I hurts so much.
When I try, when I reach out, when I am needing help, when I try to talk, when I ask,
Why Do You Push Me, and laugh?
It is not funny to me. It hurts.
I know I am not always stable, not always right in the head. It is not by choice.
You say I don't handle stress, but you don't do anything to alleviate my stress. You act like you have the answers, like you understand what is happening, like you have adjusted, like you are normal, like you care. You even say at times, "I love you." And that is nice to hear, because I believe.
But when I call you, when I talk to you, when I am seeking help or need a change or to get on track or to move one step away from the edge or to make progress or to make life better...
You PUSH me... you rattle on with jokes and laughter, it's a game, you twist my words and laugh. You make up riddles, jokes and play on words. You wont get serious; you don't take me seriously. Around, and around, and around we go. Poking, laughing, questioning, laughing, telling and laughing.... anything to beat around the mulberry bush and never address the point of why I asked to talk.
So, I coil in, steaming for a blow up. I cry, get angry, force myself to walk away. I wail, talk to myself, want to run, want to be put away, want it all to end. This is not how I want to live, no one would want to be treated this way... and I am especially fragile, still.... and no matter how many times we have repeated this ACT in our 'play of life' .... we don't ever rewrite the script.
One person can't change a whole cast.
I try to take a different part, to be under control, to be regulated, to be stable, to be kind, to not raise my voice, to not nag, to interact in positive ways, to listen and to talk, to encourage and help, to take and respond when you need something or to go somewhere....
And when you dream, I focus and listen and try to imagine your dreams being real with you... and do what I can to make them so.... I want you to embrace who you are, and to be and to have and to know.....
But whenever I start getting overloaded, when things pile up, are left out, spilling over, lying around, I aim to tackle what needs to be done. I work as best as I can. I pick, I pull, I put, I load, I place, I call, I write, I run, I answer, I deliver, I get, I fix, ..... and then it happens. I weaken... I tire... I can't keep up and I think.... oh why do I ever think ... "I will just ask, that's it. We just need to talk about it, surely if they knew, surely if I shared, surely if only I told what my needs were, that I needed help, that I needed everyone to do their part, that I needed someone to work, to give, to be unselfish, to lift a finger not in their own personal luxury or delight or benefit, they would listen, receive, understand and respond in a caring way. They would help.
BUT, No....
When I try, when I reach out, when I am needing help, when I try to talk, when I ask,
Why Do You Push Me, and laugh?
It is not funny to me. It hurts.
I know I am not always stable, not always right in the head. It is not by choice.
You say I don't handle stress, but you don't do anything to alleviate my stress. You act like you have the answers, like you understand what is happening, like you have adjusted, like you are normal, like you care. You even say at times, "I love you." And that is nice to hear, because I believe.
But when I call you, when I talk to you, when I am seeking help or need a change or to get on track or to move one step away from the edge or to make progress or to make life better...
You PUSH me... you rattle on with jokes and laughter, it's a game, you twist my words and laugh. You make up riddles, jokes and play on words. You wont get serious; you don't take me seriously. Around, and around, and around we go. Poking, laughing, questioning, laughing, telling and laughing.... anything to beat around the mulberry bush and never address the point of why I asked to talk.
So, I coil in, steaming for a blow up. I cry, get angry, force myself to walk away. I wail, talk to myself, want to run, want to be put away, want it all to end. This is not how I want to live, no one would want to be treated this way... and I am especially fragile, still.... and no matter how many times we have repeated this ACT in our 'play of life' .... we don't ever rewrite the script.
One person can't change a whole cast.
I try to take a different part, to be under control, to be regulated, to be stable, to be kind, to not raise my voice, to not nag, to interact in positive ways, to listen and to talk, to encourage and help, to take and respond when you need something or to go somewhere....
And when you dream, I focus and listen and try to imagine your dreams being real with you... and do what I can to make them so.... I want you to embrace who you are, and to be and to have and to know.....
But whenever I start getting overloaded, when things pile up, are left out, spilling over, lying around, I aim to tackle what needs to be done. I work as best as I can. I pick, I pull, I put, I load, I place, I call, I write, I run, I answer, I deliver, I get, I fix, ..... and then it happens. I weaken... I tire... I can't keep up and I think.... oh why do I ever think ... "I will just ask, that's it. We just need to talk about it, surely if they knew, surely if I shared, surely if only I told what my needs were, that I needed help, that I needed everyone to do their part, that I needed someone to work, to give, to be unselfish, to lift a finger not in their own personal luxury or delight or benefit, they would listen, receive, understand and respond in a caring way. They would help.
BUT, No....