We talked about moving slow; she gets girls throwing themselves at her for hookups, and she's mostly disinterested in that. She wanted someone she could relate to, and somehow she relates to me. And I talked about how I can hook up pretty easily, but people are bothersome and I'm less patient for that now, and when it comes to relationships I don't really like to start with sex -- I move very slowly.
So, yeah, we're not girlfriends but we're trying to get to know each other in that direction. Since we've known each other for so long, this isn't full of pressure. The fact that she wants to discuss and be reasonable about this actually fills me with more giddiness than just rushing for a label.
I send her lots of pictures of dogs. I mean, I do that for everyone, but more for her because she doesn't like cats.
Two days ago my mother came over to "clean," with the girls in tow, but then she started wanting to pack, to take down my decor, and for that I felt deceived. If I had known it was for packing rather than cleaning, I would have prepared differently. Threw away a bunch of stuff. When we had a moment alone, I told her...
That she can't pound on my door and barge in angrily and yell at me like she did last time she came over (a few weeks ago?). When she did that, it really messed me up, I had a constant animal panic response and couldn't stand loud noises and just had overwhelming terror and anxiety. She said "Don't you tell me what I can and can't do," not even listening to the whole thing, where I also wanted to explain that I've had nightmares about that interaction for the last eight years, a huge anxiety of intrusion, and that yelling really triggers me. I did mention that all of my partners have respected my boundaries enough to avoid using raised voices around me, because it messes me up, and she said "You never treated them as bad as you treat me," and accused me of using her, and basically that she didn't care I have emotional boundaries and triggers.
So, yeah. Without a doubt, that interaction crossed the line from dysfunction to abuse. I feel afraid and unsafe, logically. But mostly numb. Mostly numb, I guess, the only way you can feel when you finally understand your parent doesn't care about you/your health.
The reason my life is shit and things don't get done is because I am depressed. Because I am ill. I am not wasting time and having fun when I am failing to get things done, I am crushed by my own shame and lack of motivation, overwhelmed constantly, scared. My mind is foggy and I can't focus on anything and I feel so much pressure, and I feel like a let down. And it's been 15 years of being treated and I'm not fixed, and that itself makes me feel worse and more useless. I can't be "using" her -- she has been giving of her own volition. I stopped asking a long time ago. If she cut me off, I wouldn't fight. All I'm asking now is that she respect my boundaries, be mindful of my health -- which one would do for any other person, even a stranger. Even if a stranger told you that they have asthma, if you're half-decent you wouldn't blow smoke their way. Why isn't it the same for mental illness?
But I talked to her yesterday, on the phone, since I missed a call from her, and she seemed pleasant enough, and surprised that I am working on things, in a good way. She wanted to arrange a dentist's appointment for me.
I'm considering leaving sooner than I had planned, because of this. I get paid soon; not much. If I just wrap up a few things, then I'd be able to cut and run. Min said she'd pay my transport anywhere. Ugh, she is so lovely and I hate being like this, I hate this.
Anyway, before I started writing this entry, Lucas was kind of terse at me, and so I started to consider myself a failure again, after being up since late last night to this afternoon, right now, cleaning and trying to get work done, high on emotions and chances. The constant up and down is really tough, because I can't always predict what I'll end up like moment to moment. Writing all of this down, I feel less sad and self-conscious than I did, for some reason, even though I'm reliving emotions by recording them.