Injustice

If there is justice in the universe, I am failing to see it.

I can’t comprehend why things happen to certain people, and more often than others.  I don’t get why some seem destined to suffer, often silently, while others complain about the equivalent of hangnails while enjoying the seemingly “good life”. 

I’ve tried diligently to maintain a consistent persona and stable presence, in the face of absolute tragedy and soul-crushing reality.  I’ve sacrificed everything to make others comfortable around me - I’ve neglected talking about my daughter for fear of making someone else uncomfortable.  How screwed up is that?  I put complete strangers comfort and ease ahead of my own, my family’s.  Their personal bubble of ignorant bliss comes ahead of my sanity.  What am I gaining from this?  How much have I already lost?

 I wish I could be selfish.  Just once, I wish I was able to say “screw everyone else, I want this and I’m going for it” no matter what the cost.  But I never do.  I always second guess myself and all my actions, even when successful, I doubt. I hated being on my meds – they made me fat and practically bald.  But at least I had more confidence.  Now I just have doubt and fear and paranoia.  I won’t even send back food if its bad.  When did I become such a doormat?  Was it in between being yelled at and told I was selfish for not doing what someone else wanted? 

I relate so much to Elphaba’s struggle in Wicked – in trying to do good, I fail miserably and become this horrible person incapable of righteousness.  No good deed goes unpunished, indeed.  I wanted a daughter, a child, with my husband who I love and who loves me.  That wasn’t good enough, I didn’t deserve it, and it was taken from me because…. There is no reason.  So I try to hold my head above water and maintain and plow ahead, but every time I open my mouth I fail to express myself eloquently.  I can’t convey my feelings, so I just cry and become miserable.  I can’t concentrate so I distract myself with the entertaining fictional lives of others, just to escape.

I’m damned either way.  If I talk about her, then I’m an “attention-seeking whore”.  If I don’t, I’m a “cold-hearted bitch.”  If I don’t try again, I’m a “quitter”.  If I do, I’m “selfish”.  At this rate, its not even an attempt to avoid a negative title – its just which one am I more comfortable living with?  Should I be a selfish bitch or a quitting whore?  Decisions, decisions...

I really with MMFN would shut up.  He got a hold of me last week and has been making the last few days nearly unbearable. Top it all off with people getting things they (in my honest opinion) really don't deserve for being stupid and playing the system.  I wish I was everything my parents told me I was when I was younger - selfish, spoiled, a horrible person, a bad daughter.  Maybe then I wouldn't care about what people think of me.

I'm sinking in on myself.  The invisible weight surrounding me is crushing the air from my body, strangling the last shreds of my self-esteem and creativity.  I want to be acclaimed for my work, my hard work - I'm willing to put the effort in, but no matter how hard I try, I am hyper-critical and self-doubting, and it kills any creation I make.  

There's a constant comparison.  I don't know where it comes from, but I am constantly lining myself up against other people and women and even men and trying to compare myself with them and their achievements.  Instead of being proud of my own, I point out all the times I've failed to accomplish one of theirs.  This is why I suck at marketing myself, why I can't even promote my own articles and writing - I don't believe in me.