Damnitall, ASK FOR HELP ALREADY!!!!
Jun. 29th, 2004 06:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omimouseRight, then.
I am not a telepath. I wish to make this as clear as I can possibly make it. I cannot read your mind; if you give me no information I can only guess at what you want done and how you want it to be done, and when.
If you have problems asking, then I'm really sorry, but you're just going to have to ask. I cannot anticipate or guess everything, and trying is using up an incredible amount of my resources. Knock on the door, or tap me on the shoulder, or use fucking flags for all I care, but if you don't ask me for help, then you don't get to get all pissed at me when I had no idea that my help was needed.
I cleaned the kitchen and living room today. I helped watch and take care of the Phooka. I ran dishes and laundry. I worked my ass off. If that's not enough, then I'm sorry, but the rest of ya'll can fucking grow up and godsdamn deal with it. I'll do my best to help, but you can damn well ask for my help instead of hope that I'll notice you need it.
I have just about run out of cope on this front. I am frustrated to the point of tears, sick to my stomach, and I find myself wanting to rock and scream and open my arms to the bone. And I will personally bitch at any and all who mouse about this, because that reaction is just making this worse. It's already been rubbed in enough that there's no way I can do enough, or be enough, or be good enough to help anyone. You don't need to shove my face in it any more than it already has been. I do my best, and if that's not enough, well, there's more to give but I refuse to cut up little pieces of my soul for your convienince.
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catchild if you start trying to do housework or stuff that uses your right arm before it's healed, well you can officially add that to the list of things that will make this reaction worse. You not taking proper care of yourself is not acceptable. It also puts Ebon in a downright vicious mood, and I'm all but ready to hit his nose with a newspaper until he starts being in a better mood.
Since the last time I hit a depressive spiral like this, the general reaction was that I could 'just get over it', 'not think about it', 'just change how you feel', then that's what the whole fucking lot of you can damn well start doing. I love you all very, very much. I'm not leaving unless and until you kick me out, and you're going to have to fight me to do that.
I can still get pissed off at how you're acting, and more to the point, about how you're treating me.
I am not a telepath. I wish to make this as clear as I can possibly make it. I cannot read your mind; if you give me no information I can only guess at what you want done and how you want it to be done, and when.
If you have problems asking, then I'm really sorry, but you're just going to have to ask. I cannot anticipate or guess everything, and trying is using up an incredible amount of my resources. Knock on the door, or tap me on the shoulder, or use fucking flags for all I care, but if you don't ask me for help, then you don't get to get all pissed at me when I had no idea that my help was needed.
I cleaned the kitchen and living room today. I helped watch and take care of the Phooka. I ran dishes and laundry. I worked my ass off. If that's not enough, then I'm sorry, but the rest of ya'll can fucking grow up and godsdamn deal with it. I'll do my best to help, but you can damn well ask for my help instead of hope that I'll notice you need it.
I have just about run out of cope on this front. I am frustrated to the point of tears, sick to my stomach, and I find myself wanting to rock and scream and open my arms to the bone. And I will personally bitch at any and all who mouse about this, because that reaction is just making this worse. It's already been rubbed in enough that there's no way I can do enough, or be enough, or be good enough to help anyone. You don't need to shove my face in it any more than it already has been. I do my best, and if that's not enough, well, there's more to give but I refuse to cut up little pieces of my soul for your convienince.
catchild if you start trying to do housework or stuff that uses your right arm before it's healed, well you can officially add that to the list of things that will make this reaction worse. You not taking proper care of yourself is not acceptable. It also puts Ebon in a downright vicious mood, and I'm all but ready to hit his nose with a newspaper until he starts being in a better mood. Since the last time I hit a depressive spiral like this, the general reaction was that I could 'just get over it', 'not think about it', 'just change how you feel', then that's what the whole fucking lot of you can damn well start doing. I love you all very, very much. I'm not leaving unless and until you kick me out, and you're going to have to fight me to do that.
I can still get pissed off at how you're acting, and more to the point, about how you're treating me.
