Rambling and Venting: Grocery Strangers' Judgments

I've been having trouble letting go of other people's opinions. My recent interactions and social grazes with strangers have been more negative than I'm used to, but maybe I was just never aware of the negativity before, because I assumed that everyone was just mostly neutral like I was.

Lately, when Mark and I go out to buy groceries, he has pointed out that people near us in the checkout line have been glaring at us and calling us show-offs because we often have a full cart since we typically buy a month's worth of groceries. But they don't know that at least 90% of our cart are discounted sales items; usually one or two things are not on sale. I've been ignorant to strangers' opinions because I intentionally avoid people as much as possible and usually don't interact with them (*social anxiety~ hence the only-once-a-month groceries). But Mark has pointed out these public comments to me afterward more than once. I know I shouldn't care what other people think, but it bothers me.

And to be clear, I don't feel bad or embarrassed. I'm angry.

Like, who thinks like this? I know there are people who think like this, but why put this kind of energy into the world? You don't know me, how I live, who I live with, who I'm taking care of, who I'm splitting costs with, or anything else about me. You could be saying this to someone who is struggling and who just happened to get a really nice work bonus or a gift card from their grandma and could afford a full cart this time. Or someone who saves up their money to get a full cart. Or someone who's picking and choosing all the sale items to save money where they can. Why are you gonna shame someone who is working their ass off to get this full cart and make them feel like shit? Fuck off with that mentality.

I know people don't know me and they have their own lived experiences and perspectives. But so do I. People don't know that I grew up poor. They don't know that, when I got my first job, I could only afford to live in a friend's living room and to buy enough Hot Pockets for a week at a time. I was pinching so many pennies that my coworkers at my first job pooled their money together so that I could afford better lunches and save a little more money. My friends were feeding me out of their generosity. When I was able to afford a room in someone's house, I was living off of Hot Pockets and instant ramen. I could hardly have imagined that I would be in my 30's and be able to afford more than a few days' worth of groceries at a time. A month's worth of groceries? It still blows my mind when I think about it. I've come a long way in a decade, and I'm proud of it. And everyone else who's been able to improve their lot in life should also be able to be proud of themselves for doing it every day without shitty strangers injecting their negativity. I'm glad these strangers did it to Mark and me because we can let it go for the most part, but it pisses me off that they probably also say this shit to other people who definitely do not deserve that kind of treatment even if it's just a blip in their lives. I hate people just trying to make other people feel bad.

And I know I'm very privileged to be able to afford the life that I have. To be able to go on vacations. To pay for much of my family's expenses. To have a job that pays well. To be able to save money. I'm aware of my privilege, but I'm working my ass off and burning myself out to earn it. I didn't come from money. I've never looked down on other people because of how much or how little they've had in their cart. I know what it's like to not have enough and to have other people look down on me for not having enough. I fucking hated it. People talking shit about my parents for not providing enough. People talking shit when my parents bought something expensive because they thought my parents were flaunting their money, when the reality was we scrimped and my dad worked so much overtime so that we could splurge once in a while. I just never understood the negative judgment and assumptions when people knew nothing about my family. And now to receive the same kind of judgment from strangers when I'm just another adult working and figuring my shit out, I'm just so fed up.

My parents' money mentality has been my money mentality for a long time. They did the best they could with the money they got. I was lucky that I got any college education, thanks to all the financial aid I was granted. There was no way I was ever smart or motivated enough to get scholarships. When I finished undergrad, I was proud to be the first person in my immediate family to get a college degree, probably the second in my entire extended family. Over time, I've been fortunate enough to go from job to better job and to afford necessities and luxuries. I've been able to save a decent amount because my parents taught me to save when I could. I've been so lucky with how my life has gone, and I'm so grateful for that. And I know not everyone gets that kind of luck. I try to be cognizant of that and do what I can to help others, and I know there are many people who think and act very similarly. It pains me to think that anyone who's just trying to do their best could be on the receiving end of a stranger's indignation or vitriol for some perceived BS. And again, I know strangers know nothing of me, and I'm not going to change any minds. But I just wish people didn't judge so harshly when they know so little of the people around them.

When I was younger, I used to look at my friends who had more I did and think, "Wow. I wish I had that much." But it was never with any animosity. It was more awe that people could have so much and maybe a sense of motivation, where I thought I could possibly get just as much in the future. It doesn't make sense to me to feel any other way, unless I think they didn't earn what they have.

I've lived paycheck to paycheck. I've lived off the generosity of many good friends and family. I try to pay it back and pay it forward when I can. But there will always be people who see how much I've got now and think I'm some pompous nobody because I've got a full cart. I got lucky and worked hard to get this full cart. And so did every other person in the line. Fuck off with the shitty mentality. Be happy that people can afford their groceries.

A flag is a flag

I guess this could be a political post, but I'm just sharing what's tumbling around in my head.

A symbol is a symbol. I don't necessarily put a lot of value into symbols, probably because I don't always understand them unless they are explained to me haha.

Ultimately, the flag and the national anthem haven't done anything for or to me, except act as government-supported symbols of freedom that I have willingly accepted. I don't reject the flag, but I also don't blindly love and admire it. I understand its purpose and role in our society; it is supposed to represent the American people and country to not only us but also the rest of the world. But I also just see it as what it is. A flag. A piece of cloth designed to instill a sense of belonging, comraderie, loyalty, freedom, patriotism, etc.

A flag is a flag. I wouldn't lose sleep over it. It doesn't have a personal meaning to me other than what I have been taught in school. I have a very detached attachment to the American flag. I think the closest things I've ever owned to a US flag were Old Navy shirts with the flag printed on them. And my mom was the one who bought them.

Anyway, to others, the flag represents a lot of things. It represents different things to different people. It makes them experience different feelings. I've probably felt some patriotic feelings here and there, provoked by some circumstances and situations. They were short-lived because, again, I don't hold much value in most symbols.

At this moment, I just see the flag as a flag. It has a history and lots of emotions attached to it. But when we break it down, it is a cloth and a symbol that will one day disappear and be forgotten. Unless by some miracle, humans live forever and keep a meticulous record of all history (doubtful). To hold onto something so impermanent and to hold onto so much anger toward people who do not think the same, it feels pointless. It changes no one's mind to be so angry.

"I wouldn't" does not equate to "You shouldn't."
"I will not" does not equate to "You cannot."

The wider conversation about the flag has boiled down to what people have to do. I think that's the wrong approach. Give people the freedom to show their true colors, and decide if those colors match your own. Maybe some effort in a constructive conversation will help you find some common ground. If you make a person do something you want them to do, then their action is empty.

I saw a quote somewhere on Facebook that sums up what I'm thinking better than I can say it: "Patriotism isn't about making everyone stand and salute the flag. Patriotism is about making this a country where everyone wants to."

It's like how I approach the words "I love you"; there was once a person who expected me to say it on the spot to prove my feelings, but I could not and would not say it. She got frustrated and upset, but I wouldn't budge. Part of it was we were in high school and I had no idea what I was doing or how I felt. But a major part of it was the obligation would have undermined my intention. If I had said "I love you" when she expected me to, then it wouldn't have meant the same. Sure, I would have said it, she might have felt the impact of it, and she would have appreciated it. But my intention would have been to appease her rather than to express how I felt.

Likewise, forcing people to stand and "respect" the flag would just be a coerced act of appeasement.

People get mad about so many things. But I don't know if it's worth it. My anger won't change other people's mind. It just scares or provokes them; the response is defensiveness or retaliation. When someone comes at me angrily, I tend to absorb that anger and to want to return it immediately to make them stop. That's all that has been happening with this "debate." I don't feel like there will be productive movement in any direction. It's just a topic to be angry about.

I have to mention, when Kap didn't stand up last year and set off the storm, I didn't think much of it. He didn't represent me, but I understood why he did what he did. I didn't necessarily agree with him at the time, but I also didn't disagree. My perspective on the situation was "Oh, I see where you're at. You do you." And I was on my merry way. I suppose this may be more of a testament to how not easily inspired I am haha.

Before anyone thinks I willfully disrespect the troops, I support the troops 100%, and I am grateful for their courage, strength, and sacrifices.

However, I haven't stood and placed my hand over my heart for the flag or anthem in many years. I often stand, close my eyes, bow my head, and thank the troops in my head. And I pray for them. That's how I express my respect and thanks. It might not be as public and showy as saluting the flag and all that. But I know how I feel about our troops, and I feel my way of expression is the best for me. Not for others, just myself. Kinda like how some people believe their private one-on-one conversations with God are more fulfilling than sermons.


Sorry, lots of rambling. It's late, and I should have gone to bed two hours ago. But I just wanted to put some words down somewhere.

Symbols are funny. They don't exist until you want them to exist. Then they don't stop existing until everyone forgets about them.

I feel like I'm always stuck in the past and can't let go of it. But I don't think I ever really confront it much either. So everything just stays stuck.

Today, Shiva and I confronted our past together. And it was difficult. I still don't know what to think. I suppose I still have a lot of anger and resentment that I never let myself express.

I want to be her friend. But I just don't know if I can now.

I've been thinking about this on and off for a long while. I just never had to actually face it.

But anyway, I got things off my chest. A lot of things I never said after we broke up. I put a lot of the blame on myself for our relationship. And I guess she took some of it off of me. She apologized.

And I don't know how I feel about any of this.

We're probably not gonna talk for a while. I'm still going to her graduation because I do want to see her graduate. But after that, I don't know what I would want from our friendship.

I guess I just need to process things and figure it out eventually.

Feeling Uncomfortable.

I feel like I should know the answer to this. But if I participated in some religious ritual, but I felt uncomfortable or even violated anyway, am I reading too much into it? Am I the one sexualizing the ritual? Maybe it's a part of the ritual. How would I know, if I'm not familiar with this ritual?

I dunno how I'm supposed to feel. I just know I felt violated. I wasn't raped. But there was a bit of physical contact that I wasn't comfortable with. But I didn't say anything. Because what do I say to the face of a Buddhist monk who's supposed to be celibate and above all these human desires? What if he really is just performing a ritual I've never heard of and that specific physical contact is a part of it?

Except I'd done this ritual once before. He didn't do the same act then. And my mom had been present. The second time, she wasn't. A part of me is wondering if he did do it the first time, and I forgot; but I'm certain I would have noticed him touching me.

My mom wants me to do the ritual again next Saturday. I never told her about the last one (I never tell her about these kinds of experiences). I don't want to go. I just don't feel safe.

If I tell her I don't want to go, she'll just think I'm a faithless delinquent with no regard for my own life and fortune. If I tell her why I don't want to go, I fear that she won't believe me; she'll downplay my feelings and call it confusion and a lack of familiarity with Buddhist practices. Except I don't think she had ever heard of this cleansing ritual until she found this temple. I certainly hadn't.

What if she doesn't believe me? What if she thinks I'm making shit up because he didn't openly fondle or grope me? What if she thinks I'm reading into it wrongly?

Even if I am misreading his actions, I still don't want anyone, especially a man I don't know, to touch me like that. Even for a brief moment. Even if it's supposed to cleanse me. Even if other people think I'm overreacting. I don't want that.

But I fear she won't see it like that. She'll just see it as me shirking my duty as her daughter to follow her instructions.

I don't know how my mom would react if I told her any of this. Honestly, I don't think I've ever thought she would believe me or be on my side in any of the situations I've been in. I really believe she'd find a way to tell me that it was my fault. She does it in every other situation, like whenever I had car issues; I brought it upon myself somehow when the truck reversed into my car. So if I tell her I felt violated by a monk that she trusts, I feel like she won't believe me or she'll somehow blame me for feeling that way.

In the back of my mind somewhere, there's a thought that she'll believe me but tell me to just not give him an opening to touch those parts of me. Or she'll stay in the room and I should still do the ritual.

I want to say no. I don't want to go.

But I don't know if I have the resolve to keep saying no and to deal with her putting me down. I wish I knew how to not internalize everything she says to me. I love my mom, but sometimes it feels like she's thrashing me from the inside with her words and her looks.

----

I think I will tell her I won't go. The thought is making me anxious. But I can't go through that. I thought about it. You know, do it once more to see if it happens again. Once is whatever, but twice is the start of a pattern, right? But I don't want to go through it again just to decide if I should feel comfortable or not. I don't feel comfortable.

Damn, I haven't felt this anxiety in such a long time. I used to feel it whenever I'd ask my mom for permission to do anything. It would take me hours, sometimes days, to work up the courage to ask. Permission for such small shit, and it always felt like I was asking her to not punish me.

I hope I find the courage this time. I hope I have the resolve. I'm an adult, but I still feel like a child with my mom. I'm an adult when she thinks I fucked up; but I'm a child otherwise.

How the fuck do other people do this? How do you tell your parents you think you were violated by someone they trust? How do you make them see that it's not some minor issue and that you're not overreacting?

I've always thought survivors were brave for coming forward. But I never truly realized the immense courage it required. I am lacking in courage. Why? Because this wasn't rape; it wasn't coercion; I don't know if it counted as groping or fondling. It just feels so minor, not serious enough. I don't know who would take it seriously. I don't even know if I completely take it seriously. Because what's the point if the people, who should take it seriously, don't?

I just don't want to be near someone who makes me question my safety, even if they wear an orange robe and are revered by everyone else.

Adding on to the previous post...

When someone asks why it's okay for women to refuse sex but not okay for men to refuse sex, I have to facepalm.

ಠ_ಠ It is not okay to force a woman to have sex. It is also not okay to force a man to have sex. In general, it is not okay to force any person to have sex. Agreed? Good. I don't know why there's a disconnect here.

When a woman does not consent to sex with a man, our heteronormative society calls her a tease, prude, or bitch. If she is raped, society says she wasn't raped because she "asked for it" and secretly wanted it. If it believes she was raped, it says she should have fought back.

When a man does not consent to sex with a woman, our heteronormative society calls him a fag, pussy, or again bitch. If he is raped, society says he wasn't raped because "real men can't be raped"; he secretly wanted it. If it believes he was raped, it again says he should have fought back.

A woman is told she should accept her rape because she looks like she wants sex (read: she has a vagina and is near men). A man is told he should accept his rape because he looks like he wants sex (read: he has a penis and is near women). We might not focus on the same excuses for men and women, but we're all essentially told the same thing.

So tell me wherein lies the double standard when neither gender is supposed to refuse sex. And when sexually assaulted, people don't want to believe us because our clothes or our genitalia supposedly imply consent.

Reading about the Amber Rose consent conversation with Tyrese and whomever. Reading the Fb comments. People aren't taking her words seriously because of who she is.

"Why would you be naked next to a man and refuse him sex? If he rapes you, you deserved it because you led him on and put yourself in that situation."

ಠ_ಠ No. No. No.

This is why marital/partner rape still isn't taken that seriously. This is why sex workers who are sexually assaulted or raped aren't taken seriously.

And don't get it twisted. Before you say it's a double standard based on gender, we never said it should be okay for men to be sexually assaulted. Our society laughs at men for not enjoying sexual advances made by women. That's NOT okay. It's the same damn issue as women being told they should be okay with sexual advances made toward them because of the way they dress.

Men are told to like sex because they are men who should have a "normal" sex drive.
Women are told to like sex because they are women who look/dress/act like they want to have sex.

That's the fucking issue. Society treats people like they aren't supposed to have any agency and just act accordingly to their gender. Fuck that.

I hit one of my lowest points yesterday.

I hadn't felt that hopeless and lost in a really long time. I made myself be alone, locked in my room for most of the day, with the wrong intentions. I drank past the point of caution. I didn't care. I knew I was going to get sick, and I still drank more than I knew I should have. And I was tempted to go beyond that. But I couldn't. I stopped. I don't know if it was because I didn't want to die or because I couldn't move anymore.

Afterward, when I could finally move again, I made that feeling of hopelessness and being lost a real one. 9:20 PM. I drove around San Jose with the hopes that it would help me calm down and think. I went up Calaveras, parked at a lookout point, stood in the cold and windy air for an hour, and then drove down Sierra. Then I drove to my mom's house. Then I drove up Bernal to IBM. Next was to turn around and reach the other end of Bernal. And I kept going. I found my way to Quimby somehow and turned right. And I kept going. At the end of Quimby, I turned right and just drove. For 20 miles. It was dark and empty. Lots of twists and turns. Lots of ups and downs. I didn't downshift. I didn't care. I could smell my brakes burning.

After 20 miles, I stopped. I didn't know where I was. Do I keep going, or do I turn around and go home? Do I stay there until the sun comes up? The thought of me dying on this road crossed my mind several times. But I had continued to drive. But at this point, when I finally really stopped my car, I realized I hadn't died. I drove as carefully (and recklessly) as I could. I was still alive. Do I still want to be alive?

I turned my car around and drove. 27 miles later, I'm on Alum Rock, heading toward a place I could fall asleep. I came back to the house I live in. 2:23 AM.

I remember almost everything I did yesterday, but I don't remember half the things I thought. But I know they were ugly thoughts.

I need to reflect on a lot of things and clear my head and conscience. Yesterday was the lowest point I reached in years. I did a lot of stupid and careless things. I didn't reach out to anyone, even though some had offered their love and time. I shut them out. All I saw was the ground, the dirt, and nothing else. I didn't deserve their love and time yesterday.

Strangely, today, I'm looking up. Yesterday's antics... I think I just needed to get a lot of shit out of me. Probably wasn't the best way to go about it, but I already feel a little better. I'm going to feel much better. I will reach out to someone. I will depend on my friends. I will learn how to not shut my loved ones out. I will struggle with this. But I will do my best not to do this to them again.

Stepping down.

So Tuesday had started off better than expected. It didn't end well. I barely made it through half of my work day.

I had a conversation with a coworker sometime before lunch. He said things that angered me. He asked about two incidents that had happened at work when he first started because he found out someone had "complained" about him. The first incident he asked about was a sexual harassment issue. I explained what happened. He asked about a specific person involved in that situation. I explained. Then he asked about the complaint that person had about him. I explained that it was not a complaint but more of a method of self-preservation for someone who was very introverted. In his first week or so, he had tapped her on the shoulder or arm several times to ask for help or to wake her up when the bosses were walking around. She didn't feel comfortable with the physical contact. She asked me to separate them.

He felt affronted and probably hurt that someone would accuse him of being a creep. I tried to explain to him that the person who spoke to me about him didn't think he was a bad person; she just didn't want to be touched, but she didn't know how to tell him that without offending him.

I tried to explain to him that many women don't know how to respond to men because they don't know what the consequences of voicing their discomfort could be. But he just got angrier. And he basically said things that remind me of the hashtag NotAllMen.

"She's got problems if she doesn't know how to trust people."
"She can't assume every guy is gonna be a bad guy."
"There are nice guys, but she won't give them a chance."
"It's unfair of her to put me in the same box as those douches."
"She needs professional help/counseling if that's how she thinks."
"I was just trying to help her out, and she took it as a threat! Something's wrong with her!"

I started to get so angry hearing all these things. He wasn't listening to me. I was starting to not listen to him. I had to tell him that we couldn't talk about this anymore. But he kept going. And I stayed there and heard more. When he finally paused, I walked away. Unfortunately, someone on the floor asked for my help with a task, and I tried to help her. But I couldn't fight my anger or my tears. And it showed. I had to leave the floor.

I realize my anger wasn't so much at the fact that he was vilifying our former coworker. It was the fact that he sounded like that hashtag. Like a significant amount of society. Like the people who don't take harassment seriously unless it's vulgar and forceful. Like people who think they could never hurt someone else, even unintentionally. I realize my anger flared up because I felt like my experiences were being trivialized and turned into irrationality. Like whenever I'm uncomfortable with a man I don't know, I'm just overreacting.

Who knows? Maybe we do overreact sometimes. Maybe it's a chain reaction in our minds that isn't realistic and shouldn't be there, but it's there. And there's a fucking reason for it. There have been times where we didn't react enough and we became victims. How do we keep ourselves from becoming victims again? We react to every little possible thing, and we watch it. It probably isn't the healthiest way to live. In this world we live in, it feels like it's the only way we can survive.

It's funny (not really). When a woman reacts negatively to a man's advances or even just friendly gestures, she's seen as cold and bitchy. But if she reacts to him warmly or positively, and he hurts her, well she just gave him the wrong message. It's still kinda her fault; she shouldn't have been so nice. As if, no matter what a woman does, whatever happens to her is by default her fault because everything she does as a woman causes someone else to do what they do.

Obviously, not everyone thinks like this. But too many people do.

I know a lot of nice people. Great people. Flawed people. I know I'm a nice person. But I don't delude myself anymore into thinking that I could never hurt someone else intentionally or otherwise. Especially in a way that I personally find detestable. I've come to realize that I can't control how someone else will perceive me. I can only alter my image so much. It's unfair for someone else to not see me as the good person I am. But I know people see life through their own lenses, their own experiences. I can't hold that against them. I won't.

Ugh. This whole thing pissed me off so much. So unbearable. I had to avoid talking to my coworker most of yesterday. Every time I thought about talking to him, I just ended up yelling at him in my head. I thought it would be best to not do that in reality.

I feel like I can't talk about this clearly because this issue affects me so much. Knowing so many people who have been harassed or assaulted, hearing all their stories and their fears. I also know where my coworker is coming from. I've been on both ends of this. I know the fear in all its rationality and irrationality. I also know the anger at the unfairness of being judged when I know I'm a good person. Being on the side of being judged and being angry, I still had power in that situation; my feelings were hurt, but I was safe. On the other side, I felt like I had no power and no security; I felt unprotected.

Ahh. My head... too many thoughts.

A person can know that they're a nice person. But how is anyone else supposed to know and believe that completely? I used to think anyone who treated me well was probably a good person. Most of the time, I still think that's true. But I've had my fair share of experiences with people who were nice and helpful but turned out to be very manipulative.

And sometimes, good people hurt others. Whether they know it. Whether they feel remorse afterward. None of it changes the fact that bad things have happened.

I need to stop thinking about this. I wish I could turn my brain off.


Anyway, I feel like I'm overreacting to this. Probably. I mean I should be pissed. But I shouldn't be so overly emotional about this. If I was in a better place in my life, I would have been upset but probably calmer than I've been. Been prone to emotional breakdowns, I guess.

So yesterday, I asked to step down as trainer. This conversation sent me over the edge when it shouldn't have. But it did. I take it as a sign that I'm not emotionally well. Not well enough to do my job to the best of my ability. I have my good days. But my bad days are too many, and they interfere with my work too much. It's unfair of me to put such sub-par effort into this job. It's unfair to the people who work under me. I've been feeling this way for months. But the past couple of days really drove that feeling home. My personal issues won't stay at home; they keep coming to work with me.

I just need to deal with them first before I could really provide more for this workplace. I need to find my peace and my balance again. I can't keep doing this whole stabilize-for-a-few-moments-and-hope-they-last thing. I really need to work on myself and my happiness.

I don't know if I'm happy with my decision. But I feel some relief, knowing that I don't have to be responsible for people soon enough. I won't have to be responsible for keeping them happy when I don't even know how to make myself happy.

I know my bosses are probably hoping that I'll change my mind. As much as I don't want to lose the pay and the freedom, I don't want this job. I don't think I can do it well if I don't want it. Especially if my personal problems keep getting in the way. I still have to train the next trainer. I'm going to try to keep myself together as best as possible until probably the end of December at the earliest.

I'm sure my coworkers are going to ask questions. I don't know what I'm going to tell them. Personal stuff? Got a lot going on? I don't know. Maybe I just won't answer.

I don't want to regret this decision. I feel like I won't. I'm stepping down. Not because I can't handle the job. I know I can do my job well. I know I am an asset to my team. There's just so much going on inside my head that I haven't been doing as well as I should, and I recognize that. I have to take care of myself. I have to remind myself to do it. I have to have other people remind me. This is the best decision I've made for myself in a while. I know that, but it is definitely hard to believe.

Holding out until January was the plan. I guess that was probably too much to expect of myself...

I should probably start looking for a part-time job to help supplement my income. The pay drop is going to be a little difficult. Also need to help out my family when I can. Can't really do that if I can barely pay for myself. They're not going to know about this situation. They can't.

Unbearable heaviness.

It's been a long time since I've felt this low.

It's that heavy, sinking, drowning feeling.

I feel like I'm back in high school. I can't control this sadness. I can't control anything. I feel all this negativity and anger. But I feel nothing too.

God, I hate this mess of emotion.

I really wanted to believe I put it all completely behind me. I'm happy with where I am. I'm amazed that I'm here. Why can't I just keep this happiness going?

Sometimes, I wonder if I'm just deluding myself into believing that I'm happier. Maybe I'm the same as I was years ago. No better off.

Everything that used to haunt me is still there. Most days, they're just there, but they don't bother me. They're not haunting anymore. But today, it feels like nothing ever changed.

I feel like that lost little kid again. I feel alone. And I feel like I hate myself.

Giving myself moments of calm...

A lot of bad news lately. Or maybe not. It just feels like it. And I don't want to face any of it.

I think my slightly rational side is recognizing that I'm starting to cut myself off from people again. I don't think it's showing. But I recognize something that happens--I don't know what it is, but it's there--when I'm about to push people away or distance myself. It's something I haven't done in so long. I was making so much progress.

I feel like I'm starting to give up on the progress. I don't want to, but I can't help it.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I hope that whatever clarity I might have is enough.

Sometimes, I can't fucking stand the filth that exists in this world.

I feel like I often find myself wavering between satisfaction with human kindness and disgust with human sickness.

Sometimes, my anger consumes me, and all I can do is cry. All I can do is think about what I would do if given the opportunity. If you would just give me a name, an address, or something to help me find these abusers... If only I could go back in time and protect you...

I know I don't always take care of myself and I don't always know how to protect myself. But I sure as hell hope I will always know how to protect others.

I still think about the survivor stories I've heard from friends and strangers. From their childhoods, from their teens, from their college years, from so many different points in their lives. In the back of my mind, I'm always asking for more details. So I can find the fuckers who hurt them. I don't know what I would do to them. Or maybe I do. Whatever I would do, those fuckers deserve it.

I just feel this great sadness and this pure animosity right now. And I can't get it out.

Angry. What the FUCK?! Rape is rape. Whether the victim was under the influence of anything or not, he or she should not be raped. Whether the perpetrator was under the influence of anything or not, he or she should not rape. Plain and fucking simple.

It doesn't matter what age you are; at any age, you should know taking advantage of other people in any way is wrong. We can argue about moral relativism or whatever. But in our fucking world, rape is wrong, end of story. When is rape ever right, ok, or excusable? How can any rational, caring human being be capable of defending and/or excusing a rapist's actions and disregarding the victim's hardships?

AAAHHHH!! I'm so angry right now. I'm raging at the fact that there are people in this world that think some rapists should be forgiven so quickly because of the circumstances of the rape, including the rapists' age. It shouldn't matter what the circumstances are. The only facts that matter are that there are victims, there are rapists, and we only need to punish one party. That we, as a society, get confused about whether to punish the rapists or the victims just pisses me off so much.

I'm so angry I want to cry.

I just wanted to feel better.

I finally started to feel better today. Then Brother had to go and ruin my lifting mood.

At work, I was on autopilot. Didn't really talk to anyone. Though, my trainer had the new hire shadow me, so I had to talk to her for a bit. Mainly just kept to myself, trying to not think about Rahul. That failed. Had a good cry in my car during my lunch break.

I felt a lot better when I got home from work. I actually felt it.

I went to Brother and Karina's place to eat dinner, as is my routine for most Mondays, and to share with them this calm I've found myself in today. Their landlord brought an electrician over to try to fix the outlets in their room because half of them stopped working. Karina and I sat outside on the steps with Dexter (their dog) for maybe ten minutes before we heard Brother scream, "Fuck you!" and the electrician reply with "Fuck you, motherfucker!" What followed were a string of things from both sides that vaguely sounded like "Come at me, bro!" except with much more anger and hatred.

I feared that there would be a fight right then and there. The electrician walked out of their room, yelling for Brother to come at him. Brother yelled the same things at him but at the same time telling him to get the fuck out. Eventually, the electrician left. This left Brother yelling and swearing at his landlord for "fucking up [his] house." I laugh bitterly at that because it's actually the landlord's house. The landlord could kick him out, which I think would have been a wise decision on the landlord's part a long time ago. Or maybe he's used to angry people. He offered to help clean up the mess the electrician made of the room. It wasn't that big of a mess. The electrician broke some eggs, which had fallen out of the fridge when he moved it out of the way of the outlet to test it. Brother didn't understand why things had to be moved out of the way for the electrician to reach all of the outlets. The electrician probably got impatient with Brother breathing down his neck and got sarcastic with Brother, which prompted the initial "Fuck you."

It was an explosive situation. Dexter was terrified. Well, he had been terrified when the two strange men first walked into the room. Maybe he smelled trouble before we heard it.

I feel like I've been in a relatively fragile state lately, which would explain why I started crying when I heard the yelling. I couldn't really understand why I was crying. I think a part of my brain thought, "Brother will die early because of his stupidity and anger. He could die tonight." I honestly believe that if he dies from non-natural causes, it would very likely be caused by his short fuse. He'll piss off the wrong person. That person will have a gun or a knife and come after him. Or worse, come after someone Brother cares about, like Karina or his soon-to-be daughter. I don't know why he never thinks about the consequences of anything he does. Anything could happen. We don't know anything about the electrician; what if he's a vindictive person? What if his vindictiveness makes him come back and do something worse than swear at Brother?

Does Brother not realize that much of the "bad luck" he's had in his life has been a result of his own folly? DUIs, his fault. Car accidents while under the influence, his fault. Incarceration several times, his fault. Fights, plenty of which he instigated. Enemies, some of which he created by being an asshole. His current living situation, his doing. Yet, he's so mad at everyone else in this fucking world.

After the landlord left, I had to leave. I couldn't stay. I lost my appetite. I was scared. I was angry too. When I got in my car, Karina brought out my food. I thanked her for it. I worry about her. She's pregnant, and she's still gotta deal with Brother's explosive behavior. I can't imagine the stress that it adds to her pregnancy. Is this the first thing that their daughter is going to remember from her childhood, an uncontrollably angry father?

Karina apologized for Brother's behavior. She doesn't need to apologize. But if she doesn't, who would? Who cares? Brother apologizes all the time, but he doesn't mean it. If he meant it, he'd try to change. Sure, he apologizes because later on he feels guilty for how shit went down. If he would just stop and think, if he would just learn how to control his anger, he wouldn't end up situations that make him feel guilty, and he wouldn't have to apologize all the time. If he would actually try to become the person he wants to be, he would never have to apologize for anything.

Aahhhh! I was feeling so calm earlier. So much happier than I've been the past few days. Now my body is swinging between anger, frustration, and sadness. I was so hoping to finally get some good sleep tonight; now I'm just too upset. And I know I'm going to get hungry, but I don't want to eat. But I need to eat. I just want some fucking peace in my mind.

There's a quote on a mug somewhere: "Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart."

I want that. That kind of peace. Question: How do I calm down my heart? It's been racing on and off for days.

The heaviness won't leave.

Chau's End-of-the-World/Christmas get-together happened last night. That was fun. I ended up driving Harrison and Vivi there.

Shiva, Mai, Jen, Karishma, Ash, and Don were also there.

The events of the night included decorating stockings, Toy Story 1 through 3, Mai attempting to prevent Shiva from watching Toy Story 3 because Shiva didn't remember the second movie, alcohol consumption, White Elephant, Cards Against Humanity, YouTube karaoke, broken glass, panoramic group photos, and generally silly behavior.

While the night overall was fun, I was in an off mood. A really off mood. A part of me feels like I really shouldn't have gone because I wasn't being very involved in anything. Another part of me is glad that I got out of the house because of the family stuff. But really, I probably should have spent more time alone. Outside but alone.

Being around my friends, while comforting, was a little difficult because I didn't want to talk to anyone. But I was, I did, and I tried to engage myself in a few activities. I managed to get lost in the fun for parts of the night. But once I simmered down, I could barely smile at times.

I focused on the movies instead because I think movies have always been able to distract me. Besides, the Toy Story series is awesome. Movies that taught me to talk to my toys when I was a child. I learned to apologize to my toys when I dropped them or hadn't played with them in a while haha. I was very nice to my toys. Oh, memories.

I wasn't letting myself have a completely good time though. I wasn't letting myself get excited about anything. I think if I did, I might have started crying at some point. I also partly felt guilty because I had left my house during an important family discussion. "Maybe I should have stuck around and participated in the discussion." Really, it was part discussion, part yelling fest. I tried to add my voice in, but I don't think anyone but D listened to me.

When I got the call from Harrison asking if I could drive, I jumped at the chance to leave immediately. I probably should have stayed. But how would I have been heard? Besides, Brother seems to have a plan. A plan to try to get the smallest possible sentence for his third DUI. Not a plan to change and improve his life. A plan to impress the judge when he goes to court. Not a plan to learn how to understand the consequences of his decisions and actions. A plan to pay his DUI lawyer. Not a plan to protect his future or his own damn life.

Yeah, this kept reverberating through my head throughout the night, and I couldn't do anything to make it go away. I should have been alone.

But my friends are amazing people. Harrison and Shiva knew what's been going on. So they were comforting me here and there. Harrison had some of his own things to work through, so we were literally leaning on each other or holding each other's hand at times. It was reassuring.

I realize I never eat much if anything when I'm feeling down. For the past 25 hours, I've had a cherry tomato, a poptart (this afternoon), and two chocolate chip cookies (also this afternoon). I felt the hunger, but I couldn't make myself eat. Blah. I need to learn to take care of myself better.

I need to get all this heaviness out. But I can't. I haven't been able to. Shiva and I talked about stuff this morning. And I cried a bit, and she held me, which I so very much needed. But I couldn't let it all out. I just can't right now. But I know I need to. I just need to get to a point where I can. I dunno how. Maybe it will just happen. Unexpectedly /:

And Harrison, I know you're reading this. I hope you're doing better. I know you want to be there for me, and I'm trying to open up. But it's very difficult. So please don't think that I don't love you or that I don't want you around if I can't confide in you, cry in front of you, or ask you for help or anything. I'm still learning. Just ask Shiva.

Really, that previous paragraph is addressed to any friend who's reading this. If you're reading this blog, especially through a link that I've personally given to you (y'all know who you are), you should know that the level of trust and comfort that I have with you is deep. I might not know how to show it, but I know I feel it. And I hope you feel it too. I might not always act like we're really close, but we are. If you're someone that I actually know in person and I'm letting you read the thoughts that I can articulate, then damn we're close. I hope you all know that. I hope you know that I love you, even if I don't say it :) I want you to feel the love that radiates from me to you. Can you feel it? If you don't, I'm gonna have to fix that.


Oh, I have a decorated stocking :) haha. I didn't decorate one because I didn't feel like it. Not in the festive mood currently, you know. And some people just thought I was strange for not wanting a stocking because I couldn't really explain why to anyone. But some friends thought I should have one anyway. I know Harrison started it and put my name on it. Vivi added her penguin. Shiva added Chubby Kitty XP And "Chau was [t]here" haha. I don't know who stuck on all the styrofoam presents, snowflakes, gingerbread man, or the bell. But I nearly laughed when I saw this stocking that mysteriously had my name on it haha. Awesome friends, I tell you. Even when I wasn't adding any fun to the party, my friends still included me somehow anyway. It felt nice.


Sorry, my thoughts are all over. That seemed kinda random and out of place haha. Well, now I'm feeling better thinking about my friends and my love for my friends. Ah, I'm feeling so much better now. Maybe the end of 2012 won't be so bad. Maybe I just need new perspectives.


Hmm, I think the surprise stocking may have been one of the biggest highlights of my night. You know, aside from being with friends in general. I should have hugged my friends more. I can't stop smiling about the stocking. I'm gonna keep it with me for the rest of my life! :D It's one of those personalized gifts that I can't get rid of.

Thank you, friends. While my increasing happiness may be a day late, I'm grateful that you made my weekend better. A nice, simple gesture that has had a resounding effect on me. I love you all so much. And no, I'm not drunk. That is not the reason I'm suddenly all happy and loving in this blog post. This stocking just really means a lot to me. Who would have thought this stocking was going to have such an impact on me?


The heaviness is slowly leaving...

Just keep it together.

I feel like if anyone touches me, I'm going to fall apart.


Later, Mother is going to take me to see a Buddhist monk or something. The monk told her that 2013 will be a bad year for me unless he blesses me. Someone's going to steal my car. Or rather, someone will dupe me into giving them my car.

So Mother is gonna take me to a temple. So we'll have good luck.

Normally, I wouldn't care. But right now, I'm fairly confident I will find a job soon. It's gonna be all on me. Except when I do get a job, Mother is going to believe it was because of her and her virtue that I get a job. I'm not going to get any credit for it. But I know it will have been from my effort. 100%. Mother just won't recognize it. She won't see that I try. She'll continue to believe that I don't do anything for myself.

Is it stupid that I'm upset about this?

She thinks all the good things that happen to our family is because of her virtue. All the bad things come from everyone else's vices.

I'm not upset. I'm angry.

She thinks prayers and blessings will help or save Brother. He's going to jail. His third DUI, caught speeding, while on probation. There's no getting around that. Why would any judge be lenient on him? I wouldn't. The only reason the last judge was lenient on Brother was because Mother had been in the courtroom bawling and the prosecutor took pity on her.

If prayers and blessings don't do shit, it's not Mother's fault. It's ours. If something bad happens next year, it's automatically due to the inherently wrong things within us, not her. Or we just didn't pray enough. Or we didn't listen to her and do as she said. We didn't care enough.

If we don't care, why does she have to care? I never said she had to care. Where did she get that idea? If she wants to stop caring, go ahead. Do it. I'm not the boss of her. If she wants to stop caring, who am I to stop her? But I know she can't help but care. So why is it our fault that she cares too much? Why does she have to complain that she has to care about us much?


Rawr. I just want to do things on my own. With the help of those who will help me when I ask for it. I don't ask for more than that. She throws her "help" into it and acts like it's the only help that will do anything for me. Even more than what I can do for myself.

She's so used to taking care of Brother and helping him out of his problems that she thinks I'm exactly like him. I am fucking sick and tired of her acting like and believing I am exactly like him. I am not my brother. What have I done that proves I'm just like him? Nothing! So why can't she see that?

She doesn't want to treat me any differently than she wants to treat him. What she does with me is what she wishes she could do with Brother. Lock him up in his room, yell at him for every minor problem, yell at him for everything that doesn't matter, control his movements, control his behavior, give him approval before he does anything.


Gahh! What kind of holiday spirits are we in? This feels like the worst spirit I've been in at this time of year.


I need to keep it together. But I feel like I'm going to snap. Or break down. I just want to break down. But I'm going to keep it together. That might mean I can't see anyone for a little while. Or maybe I should. Just to get away.

Please, just get through today. Tomorrow, I can try to get away.

I need distractions.

Don't fucking drink and drive.

Anger. So much anger.
 

Brother got another DUI this morning. D and I had to go pick him and Karina up from MVPD. Also had to pick up his car from the freeway.

I only had about three hours of sleep before Karina called me at 2:30am. Waited about another hour for the next call. Went to pick them and the car up. Took two hours because D and I didn't want to get a speeding ticket. And they didn't know exactly where the car was. We wasted more than half an hour going in the wrong direction and heading back in the right direction toward the car. Then took them both to their home. Brother had the fucking nerve to be irritable when he's the one who caused all his own problems.

My brain doesn't function well under little sleep. I've learned this many times. I can drive; it's almost perfunctory. But complex thoughts and ideas are lost on me.

So when I came home and Mother asked what happened, I responded with "He got a speeding ticket." For some reason, the conversation in the car had convinced me that Brother had only gotten a speeding ticket. (That was the reason the police initially stopped him) D corrected me and said that Brother got a DUI.

I spent the next hour or so trying to go back to sleep. But I couldn't. I was angry. Mother was angry (still is). She kept ranting for the next hour. She started cursing my name (or it felt like she was) for lying.

I didn't lie. I honestly believed that Brother only got a speeding ticket. It was only after I was in bed that I realized he couldn't have just gotten a speeding ticket. His BAC was way above the legal limit. Supposedly one-point-something. He's still on probation. Just under two years into it. That should have clicked in my head, but it didn't until after I answered Mother's question.

So she ranted about Brother. She also spent a good amount of time lying in her bed, calling me a liar and a witch. A no-good daughter. A disrespectful, selfish daughter. So on and so forth.

I couldn't say anything. So I just laid in bed and felt angry and hurt. Couldn't do anything. Couldn't leave. Couldn't call anyone. I just had to lie there and listen.

Eventually, she stopped. I still couldn't sleep.

I dunno when I fell asleep. But next thing I knew, I woke up at 8:30am. Had breakfast with D and talked to him about everything that happened this morning. Explained to him what really happened when I answered Mother's question. He believed me. Mother came out and started yelling at me for being a liar. "Ungrateful, disrespectful little liar!" She didn't even try to listen or understand.

Why would I lie? She's going to find out about what happened anyway. I had no reason to lie. I just misunderstood the situation. It's what happens when I'm not completely awake and aware.

So she spent a large portion of our morning yelling at D and me. D for "defending [Brother's] actions" and for "not caring enough about this family." Me for lying and being a horrible, disrespectful daughter. (Yesterday, she had annoyed and pissed me off when I was trying to help her, so I snapped at her. I often get annoyed when I try to help her with something because she gets mad at me if I can't do something for her or teach her something well. I also spend a disproportionate amount of time on the computer, watching movies and applying for jobs. I don't respond to her quickly enough when I'm on the computer because I usually wear my earbuds or am responding to emails. Oh, and I'd rather die having fun with my friends than die being yelled at by family.)

She just ranted and ranted. Repeating herself every so often.

Whatever she convinces herself to believe about situations and people while she's angry is what she'll believe when she's clear-headed. So she's already cemented everything she said in her mind. And she's twisted everything that D and I have said. She's just finding reasons to be angry at us because Brother isn't here for her to yell at yet. When he gets here, she'll start it all up again. I know it.

Anyway, our morning "conversation" eventually led to her lambasting me for not finding a job yet and living off of her and making things harder for her. Then D and I had an actual discussion about me finding work and moving out, while she interjected just to criticize what we were saying. I've always had an idea of a plan; she just never wanted to listen and she always thought her ideas were better, so I've tried to follow her ideas. Obviously, I haven't gotten anywhere. But if she thinks all I do on my computer is play around, she's fucking wrong. Does she really think I don't wanna get the fuck out of here, away from her? I'm trying to get out of here but by her rules so that I won't mess with her living situation when I leave.

So D and I talked. I have an idea of a plan. But I need to talk to some friends.

Anyway, now she's calmer. But she's still jumping down our throats any chance she gets.

I love her. I hate her. She becomes the most vicious, scathing, vitriolic person I know when she's anxious and angry. I can't be around her when she's like that. I get so anxious and terrified that I don't know what to do. I get angry too because I feel like it's so unfair that she's taking out all of her anger on us. For small things. For things she wouldn't be angry about if she just listened to us. Since I really don't know how to express my anger, all I can do is cry.

I've said this before. If I'm angry and not crying, I'm not that angry; it's something I can get over quickly. But if I'm angry and crying, you know I'm fucking angry and I'm not coming down from that for a while and not without help.

But now, I can't be around people.

You know what's so sad about this for me? This is probably the first time I've felt so depressed and torn down since April.

What's worse? Mother never once thought about how Brother could have died or killed someone. All she cared about was him going to jail. If she did think about it, she didn't say anything. Every time I hear that Brother has been arrested for a DUI or whatever, I'm always grateful to hear that he didn't hurt anybody else. But I can't say anything about it because Mother will twist what I'm saying against me and I can't defend myself.


So that thing about me preferring to die with friends instead of family? Not what I had said at all. I had mentioned End of the World parties happening on December 21. I was explaining the idea of the parties was to poke fun at the predictions. Also, in case it does come true, at least you'll be having fun with family and friends before you die instead of panicking and not enjoying your last moments being alive. My Vietnamese may not be the best, but how the hell did she think I meant that I would rather die with friends than with family? I didn't say anything remotely close to that. I didn't say anything about me either. I was explaining the concept of the parties. She misinterpreted, and now she really believes I don't love my family enough.


I hope I won't ever be like Brother or Mother. I hope I learn from my stupidity and my anger. If I ever end up like them in any way, please slap me.

Anyway, I'm done. I want to stop thinking about all this. But she just keeps reminding me of all the crap we went through this morning. I need to stop thinking. My head hurts so much.

I can't be around anyone, but I so desperately need to cry and yell and be frustrated and be held by someone. What a perplexing feeling.

I feel like I ruined Thanksgiving for my family.

Last night, Brother and his girlfriend, Karina, took me and Vivi to Singlebarrel. First time there for us two. Pretty awesome. Would like to come back eventually. I had a Pink Lady and an English Cosmo (Shiva's recommendation). Liked them.

Though, the thought of alcohol right now makes me queasy >.<

We went to Brix afterward. Vivi and I split a Tokyo Tea. (queasy again) I had to keep her from drinking too much too fast. But I ended up doing that. At some point, Brother and Karina came to us with two more drinks. Did not finish.

Whether I finished them or not, I would have gotten sick anyway. Before midnight.

A lot of firsts last night. First time Vivi and I got seriously inebriated together. First time I've gotten totally messed up in public. First time I've ever been escorted out of a club. First time I've ever puked out of a car window.

I have vowed to stop drinking for the next four months. Not even beer. Not even for New Year's. I'll be a DD if I go clubbing.

Oh man, people at Brix are gonna remember me... I was wearing my teethy hat. If they see it, they'll remember me. Bleh.

Spent the night at Karina's. Puked throughout the night and morning. Didn't leave to go home until 1pm.

So Mother is really pissed off at me and Brother because she thinks I never tried to call her to tell her I wasn't coming home. I tried. She never answered her phone. She called me, but I never heard her call. So she thinks I was ignoring her call. I wasn't. But she won't believe me.

I do feel bad that she couldn't sleep because of me. I don't feel bad for staying out though. Though, I do feel bad for drinking too much -_- Again. Ugh.

I should have continued trying to call her, but I think I just got too wasted to remember to call.

I wish I could apologize for worrying her so much, but she won't listen.

So what now? The angry, silent treatment. And no more Thanksgiving dinner with the whole family /:

I feel absolutely horrible for ruining that. Can't do anything about it now. Just have to wait out her anger. But she's probably going to hold onto it and bring it up every time she gets mad at me.

I hope I never turn my worry into anger so easily...

Stupid, angry, drunk brother.

"Why am I related to an idiot?"

My anger speaking.

Frustrated and exhausted.

Brother is an idiot.

Today was supposed to be a chill day with Shiva, watching movies, talking, and making tofu jerky.

Instead, we had to waste two hours driving back and forth because Brother can't communicate, because he can't be upfront the first time around or at all.

Short story: Drunk brother couldn't start his car and ended up twisting his car key somehow. Angry, drunk brother punched his driver side window. Stupid, angry, drunk brother does not share any of this information in the first phone call, making me drive all over San Jose when all of it was unnecessary.

Two hours and about three gallons of gas used up, ending in a major waste of time. My time, Shiva's time, Brother's girlfriend's time, and my friend Killol's time.

All he had to fucking do was tell me he wanted the spare key. I could have driven home, got the key, and dropped it off. But no, he told me he wanted me to give him a ride home. I got to his friend's house in East Side after he didn't even give me the right directions, and he told me he wanted the spare key to his car. I had to drive all the way back home in South Side to get the key. Then I went to downtown to pick up Killol, so he could drive Brother's car home. We got back to Brother's location, and he decides he doesn't fucking want to go home anymore...


I don't know why I've been getting so angry or triggered so much the past few weeks/months. I feel sorry for my car. I was gunning it in the two hours I wasted because I was so angry. Reckless, angry driving. I'm sorry, car.

Really, I wanted to cry because of how angry I was today. So much crying I've been wanting to do, but I haven't. I feel like it might happen at an inappropriate time.

Ahhhhh! So fucking frustrated. Why am I so angry?


I'm tired of being angry...

I'm starting to remember my dreams...

Well, I remembered them the past few days when I woke up.

Today's dream involved the person who isn't talking to me right now (I'll call her Person). We were at the center, sitting next to each other (I was on her right) on the white couch with the brown cover. She was talking to everyone else but me. I just listened and nodded along with the conversation. Suddenly, Person said something to me. I was shocked, except I couldn't hear through my left ear. So I turned my head and asked her to repeat. She was laughed when she said it, and I got upset.

I woke up to my parents talking in the next room. It soon turned into an argument. I listened. What my dad said made sense. What my mom said didn't. She proceeded to deride his argument, essentially told him he was stupid for not seeing how she saw things, and shut him out. Reminiscent of "I don't have to listen to you if I don't like what I'm hearing."

I lay in bed and contemplated my dream and the argument happening next to my room. The first thought that hit me was "Person reminds me of my mom." Not that my parents' argument reminded me of the situation with Person, even though the situation with Person occurred way before this recent argument between my parents.

So I think I get it now. I get why I am still so angry with Person about the situation we're in. Even almost two weeks later. She doesn't act exactly like my mom, but her actions remind me of what I dislike in my mom.

They both stop listening when the conversation isn't favorable to them. They shut people up and shut them out. My mom yells and/or gives the silent treatment. More often than not, she yells and rants for hours and hours. But she does give the silent treatment, which isn't any better or worse than her yelling. Either way, I can't tolerate her attitude and her treatment of me. Person, on the other hand, is giving me the silent treatment. Granted, I told her she didn't have to talk to me. But I also told her I wanted us to talk but I would wait for her to talk to me. Despite what I said, I still hoped that she would've talked to me anyway. But no, she said she needed her distance from me. (Maybe this is a self-serving thought, but if anyone should take distance from someone, it should have been me getting my space from her)

I was ok with her getting her space until she started posting her Facebook statuses about me again. Well, not about me. She talked at me, but not to or with me. And this is just like my mom, even if it's not as aggressive as my mom's words. It still hurts. I am still a target. I would prefer if Person wrote those statuses, copied and pasted them into a Facebook message, and sent them to me. But alas, she wants to ignore me. Yet, this isn't ignoring, is it?

Ugh. I should just send her one more message to let her know what I've been thinking. Except that wouldn't be respecting her need for space from me. But this isn't taking space away to think of what she can say to me. She's made it pretty clear in her statuses that she won't try to talk to me. And that's what hurts. That's what hurt the first time; she didn't talk to me. I told her that. And now she's doing it again, and she thinks it's supposed to help me. How is repeating how you hurt me the first time any better the second time?

I'm not going to send her a message because I don't want to tell her what to do. She needs to grow up and talk to me. And be honest while she's talking to me. If she tells me she can't be honest with me, then we can't be friends. Because honest friends are the only ones I want.

I generally don't have any criteria for my friends, but here are some basics I should state: You should be somewhat nice. You definitely should be honest, especially about any problems you have with me. Don't lie to me about things I should know! You should be as blunt as you can be with me. You don't give up on our friendship at the first sign of trouble.

I don't want to bring this up anymore. I know this will eventually blow over whether she talks to me again. Right now, we're not friends. I'm hoping she'll give our friendship another chance, but she has to work for it too. She has to take the first step to rebuild our friendship. I took the first step in improving our friendship when I offered a chance to talk about our problems. She refused, and she left me hanging. So our next conversation, if there is to be one, is about how to become friends again.

Waiting, waiting...