Sunday, July 31, 2011

Sheer terror of tranferring to a university and the possibility of returning psychosis

I'm absolutely terrified right now. I have been grappling with the decision of whether or not to go to this university where I was admitted to for weeks, and before that was grappling with it for the past year, long before I ever applied or got denied admission or won my appeal and got admitted. I have never known for sure if I would be able to manage going to school there, and I am definitely not sure now.

The thing is, when I tell people who know me in real life, or who are my 'friends' on Facebook that I'm not sure I can do it, they will say, "Why not? Of course you can do it. It's not going to be that hard." But these people are not me. These people have no frame of reference for what it's like to be me. These people have, to my knowledge, never experienced psychosis before in their lives, much less experienced years of it. I have lived with psychosis now for thirteen years of my life, and for the first seven years of that period it was constant, florid, unmedicated, and undiagnosed. So I know what that is like. I know the hell that I went through over the years when I literally couldn't function enough to handle daily life or keep a roof over my head or keep myself out of the hospital for long. I know the delicate balance that exists inside my brain, where any amount of stress that is TOO MUCH stress tilts things too far to one side, and all goes haywire, and life becomes a total nightmare that can only be described as 'hell'. I know that I've experienced psychosis even during the good years - the past five years - when it wasn't a problem most of the time to too much of an extent, and that I have experienced it in the past few weeks to some extent. And I know, better than anybody else can know, how important it is for me to avoid anything at all that might create that imbalance in my brain that takes me out of reality and into the nightmare world.

So what I do not know, now, is what to do. I have asked for advice from a lot of people and actually have received advice from a few of them. I have thought about it a lot, weighed the pros and the cons, and contemplated what to do. I have gone to the university - the small campus they have near where I live where I would prefer to attend rather than the huge campus farther away - and I've met with admissions, financial aid, the disabilities office, and an advisor, and also taken a tour. I have spoken via phone and email with admissions advisers numerous times about different things pertaining to attending the university. And, mostly, I decided I'd go there. That is technically my decision, that I'll go there. But do I really, really want to go there? Not right now, no.

The thing is, I'm terrified. First off, I have to take more classes at that university than I'd ever have to take if I stayed at the community college, including a foreign language (four classes of one), and a statistics course, when I am horrible at math and a bit old to be learning a language as it's been 20 years since high school. And every class at that university is very likely to be more difficult, and more demanding than the ones at the community college which I know, most of the time, that I can handle. Secondly, I have no guarantee that when I graduate I'll ever be able to work full time. I have never been able to for more than a few months in my entire life. I have no reason to believe that I'll manage it in the next five years. I have no real reason to believe that getting a bachelor's degree in any particular subject makes a great amount of sense, if I can never know that I'll be able to work full time in that field and pay off the tens of thousands of dollars in loans I am going to owe when I graduate.

There are so many unknowns with this damn illness. And there is so little that other people understand about this illness. I think the worst thing about psychosis, and disorders like Schizophrenia or Schizoaffective Disorder is how entirely alone you can feel with these illnesses. I think that is the worst thing. Because for the huge majority of the population, psychosis is an entirely foreign experience that they never go through. So telling someone, "I have this disorder, and it can cause psychosis", says, essentially, nothing. I know that some of you who read this blog have been through it, and you do understand, although for many of you it is probably also a foreign concept, but at least I know you have read some of my writings and so you have a frame of reference for what I'm talking about here, while most people I know don't know the first thing about it.

I pass. I pass as "normal". I do just enough, volunteer enough, work enough hours at my part time job, take enough classes over enough years, and people think, I believe, that I don't have too much trouble with my brain. Or they know I did once, but they think it's okay now. Or they don't know me well enough to know I've ever had any trouble with my brain at all. So most people, they just have no clue. There is nobody I can really talk to who understands well what I am talking about if I mention psychosis, except for a few people I've met through NAMI over the years, and there are really a very small number of such people who I ever have contact with. There are actually only two who know my story, and I know some of theirs, and their experiences with psychosis. I know people with Bipolar Disorder, but that is different, since many people with that disorder do not experience psychosis. I know people in my family with Bipolar Disorder. None of them ever thought they were Jesus Christ, or heard voices, or bought a gun they intended to use to shoot themselves because their delusional mind told them that they were supposed to die. I know family members of people who have mental illnesses, but they don't entirely know what it's like. I don't know a lot of people I can talk to who would really, truly, get where I'm coming from and understand where I've been. And I'm not saying that my disorder is worse than any other mental illness at all, but it is different when you're psychotic than when you're not. It is an entirely different world you're living in when you're very psychotic. It is not like you can call your doctor and say, "I need some more medication," if you don't believe you can trust your doctor because you think he's a Nazi and you're a Jew and you're about to be sent to the Holocaust tomorrow.

It is not like I am worried about getting too stressed out because I might get really depressed (which is a very real possibility and has been the story of my life for some 23 years), or because I might get manic as I did years ago. Those problems can be managed better with medication than psychosis can, and when I have those problems, I generally know enough to get the help that I need. Florid psychosis is different, and I have to worry that if I get too stressed out, I won't know who I am one day. I won't know what planet I'm actually living on. I won't know what period in history I'm living in. I won't know that I can talk to anybody because they're all in on the conspiracy in my mind so I won't trust them enough to talk to them. I won't know that mental health professionals can be trusted. I won't know that the voices I hear aren't real. I won't know that the CIA isn't after me or the police or the FBI or the KGB or the Masons, or whoever. I will live in terror. I will be terrorized. Psychosis is the state of being mentally terrorized.

And I have to think that the only logical way for me to manage this possibility is to do everything in my power, everything I can, to avoid ending up in that state again. And that's how I've been living for the past six years since I got diagnosed. I avoid stress whenever possible. I avoid losing too much sleep. I take many medications regularly, and I get new ones added whenever necessary. I get an injection every two weeks. I went to therapy for four years. I've had a case manager for six years. And I try to avoid crises. But I've still had crises. Three and a half years ago, my boyfriend moved out of my apartment one day and I fell apart. I started hearing voices, and I got suicidal, and I had to go into the hospital. Shortly thereafter, I quit my job, partly because everybody I worked with found out I had a mental illness and people were talking about me and staring at me and treating me badly. It took me eight months to find another job, one that paid significantly less than the other one. Then, just four months ago, when I had to decide where to move to or whether to move to another apartment in my complex, and I had to pack everything and clean, and then move it all, and unpack it all, I fell apart again. I thought I would end up in the hospital again, but I didn't. I got so anxious and so depressed and panicked so much even my therapist brought me boxes to help me move and my case manager came one day to help me pack, because I was losing it, and that was obvious to them.

Most days, I'm not like that. But when a major change happens, it can throw me into a crisis. And leaving my community college behind to go to this huge university system is throwing me into a crisis right now. I have been hearing things at work, people talking about Jews and the Holocaust, which is the way it always goes with me when I start having psychosis, and this is not a good thing. This is leading me to question my whole decision to attend the university in the first place.

There are plenty of reasons to go to this university. It has a good reputation. It's a solid school. A degree from there would mean more to a lot of potential employers than a degree from the community college would, since the community college only has offered bachelor's degrees for a few years and only has offered the program I entered there since I entered it. A degree from the university would allow me to study subjects that interest me a great deal, which would not happen at the community college, where there are no degrees in the social sciences at all. And I'd probably learn more at the university, and learn information that I would find interesting and useful, more than I would in the program that didn't really interest me, at the community college.

But is it worth the risk? The risk of losing my mind again? The risk of hell, literal hell??

Nobody can answer this question for me, and I know that. That is the worst part about it. Making the decision itself is stressing me to the max, and I am not sure I can take another day of agonizing over what to do. It is really wearing me down. It is not working well for my psyche.

If I knew that in five years there would be a cure for Schizoaffective Disorder, then of course, I'd go for the degree at the university without hesitation, because I'd know I'd be able to work full time, supposing no major accidents or any other bad events happened before then, after I graduated, and that I'd probably be able to get a job that would allow me to repay my loans. But there probably is not going to be a cure in my lifetime, and certainly not within five years. The evidence points to the likelihood that I'll be sick with this crap for the rest of my life, and that all I can do is continue to struggle on like I've been doing and try my best, and hope for the best.

I don't want to be 80 years old, if I'm lucky enough to live that long, and look back and regret that I never got a degree in a subject that interested me, and that I never went to this university. I don't want to have a life full of what-if's, and lost chances, and I've already collected many of those over the years. I want to try to challenge myself and, more than anything, I want desperately to do something that a person with my decent intellect should, technically, be able to do, if that person didn't have Schizoaffective Disorder. But I do have this disorder, and it isn't leaving me alone. So it's not so simple, as to just follow my heart's desires. I cannot make magic happen. I cannot work miracles. And I'm not sure that I want to go through the torture of five years going part-time to this university to finish a degree that might not even be use-able, or lead to me being able to make much money in the first place. A degree in the social sciences, though it is what I would like to get, is certainly no pathway to a huge income, and I'm sick of living in poverty. That said, the degree I was going to get at the community college in public policy and administration may also not lead to a big income, and it's not that income is everything, but it is something, and I'd like to have a decent one after I work my ass off for my degree.

Things that are easy for people who don't have this illness, are not so easy, often, for people who do. I know a guy with Schizophrenia who has a BS degree and works as a dishwasher because he cannot handle a full time job in his field. I don't know anybody with Schizophrenia or Schizoaffective Disorder who has gotten their bachelor's degree while having the disorder or who has ever held down a full time job while having the disorder, except for one guy who works as a nurse's aid in a nursing home. I know people with the disorder who can manage part time menial jobs, like the one I have now, and don't go to school, and don't do anything other than that because that is what they are able to do, and they live in subsidized housing because that is all they can afford.

I guess my dream of one day moving past this illness well enough to work full time and support myself without disability benefits, and own a home, or a decent apartment in a decent neighborhood, unlike where I live now, and have a decent car that is not 15 years old and always breaking down, and to be able to even travel or do other things I'd love to do in this lifetime....this might be an unrealistic dream. And if it is, then getting a bachelor's degree might not even make sense at all.

Right now I am filled with angst and am not sure whether I should just stay at the community college, or go to the university like I was planning on doing, or give up on college altogether. I am feeling entirely overwhelmed. Thank you for listening. I cannot talk candidly about all this anywhere but on this blog, my one safe haven. I welcome your comments and value your input.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Problems living in an apartment owned by a community mental health agency

WARNING:  If you don't want to hear complaints about a mental health agency, then read no further. I  make no apology for what I am writing here.You do not have to read it if you do not want to. Thank you.

I have some things to vent about. The community mental health agency that owns my apartment building owns MANY apartment buildings specifically for people who live with mental illnesses in this county. They are the only game in town. The other agencies in this county offer no housing. So if you need a place to go, and you have a low income and a mental illness, you are likely to end up in one of their apartments.

A few complaints:
1. The construction that started about a year ago is almost finally done. In that year I was NEVER told WHEN it MIGHT ever be DONE. I was told without more than two-weeks notice when I had to move to one of the renovated apartments on the other side of the building, or move out altogether. The stress that this event caused me was written about in several other posts three-four months ago. Two of my neighbors moved out, leaving me and one tenant here. This tenant was finally told she didn't have to move, since she hadn't packed much and wasn't prepared to move and they wanted to get the construction done. This mental health agency pays no attention to the fact that this woman has barely left her apartment in the five years I have lived here, except to visit her mother once or twice a week. I visit her regularly because she is desperate for human contact but is somewhat agoraphobic and highly anxious. She needs help. She is not getting the help she needs from this agency or from the agency she goes to g for her  treatment.

2. After I had to complain to multiple people get help moving from one apartment to the other IN THE SAME TWO-BUILDING COMPLEX, fifty feet apart from each other if that, because I was being forced to move into one of the renovated apartment, I finally got some help with moving the large things from my apartment. But when it comes time to get ANYTHING fixed, you have to call the maintenance manager 15 times before you get anything done here. If it ever gets done at all.

3. We were never told by the agency that they were going to be tenting the building to kill (ostensibly) termites. That's right, we were never told. I found out because I was talking to the contractor who is in charge of the construction being done, that's been going on for a year, and I asked him when it would be done, to which he said, "You know, you're moving out soon, right?" No, I didn't know this. "Yes, you're moving out for at least three days, maybe more while we tent the building. In two weeks." I called the agency that owns the building. No one returned my calls. The person I called was as high up at the agency as I could go. I called again. No return call. Finally, I reached him, "Oh, I'm glad you called," he said. "Yes we are tenting the building next week. You have two options: find a friend you can live with for a few days or move into one of our apartments in the other building (the one I used to live in which is next to the one I now live in)." Well, that was really no option since I have two cats and I'm not moving into my friend's one-bedroom apartment for four days when she has two cats herself. I wasn't going to be able to move them to my mother's either. So I had to move to the other apartment where there was a hard, little twin bed, no phone, no TV, and no cable (which I have at home) and stay there for one night. The other nights, I went to my mom's so I wouldn't go stir crazy. My neighbor, Mary, was stuck in that vacant apartment of hers for eight days while they put new windows into her regular apartment (she was told they had to do this since she hadn't wanted to move out but they still needed to put in new windows). She has no cell phone. She has bad arthritis and this, along with agoraphobia, keeps her from walking to the bus often. I take her out sometimes, so I took her  out for hours last Saturday to the recovery center at the community  mental health center where we get treatment and two a couple of other places. She was thrilled. It was the second time in her life that she had been to a Subway sandwich shop. I couldn't keep her company all weekend because I had things to do, and during the week I work. Once I moved back into my apartment (but she was still stuck in the vacant one) I asked her over to watch TV. She was very bored at "home" in that spare apartment. She is too timid to actually ask when she can move home, so she waited, and waited for them to come and TELL her that she could move home, which they finally did today, even though they were done doing the windows yesterday.  Tonight, I found that at 10 PM she was still moving stuff, and she had fallen over some wood that shouldn't be laying out where people can trip on it, but has been there for weeks, if not months, and she needed help getting up. Luckily she wasn't seriously hurt, but she could've broken bones. I found her lying on the ground after I looked outside to see what the clanging noise was from the glass jars she had dropped. Nobody else lives here. If I hadn't heard that noise, she might have been lying there, unable to get up, for some time.

4. I called the maintenance manager (who never returns calls) YESTERDAY to tell him the lights outside needed to be replaced. One of the reasons Mary tripped over the wood that shouldn't be on the ground in a walking area is because the lights are out, which is also NOT SAFE in my neighborhood. Another reason she fell was that she was trying to move all of the many, many, many belongings she had painstakingly carted to the other apartment back to her home apartment, before tomorrow morning, since they said today that they are tenting that other building for termites tomorrow, so I spent 45 minutes helping move the rest of her stuff with her, which was difficult, because she has arthritis and I have Fibromyalgia, and we were both hot, exhausted, and in pain. Did the agency that owns this building offer to help her with any of this? Of course not!

5. There was a recent MURDER in one of the buildings that this agency owns of a person with a mental illness who lived there. He was killed in his apartment.  This is not too comforting. The police still do not know who killed him but they think it was someone he knew, from what I am told, and people who live in his building have been interviewed.

6. The apartment building I live in is being turned into a place for veterans, and I have heard it is for homeless veterans. If the past is any judge of the future, this will not be a good situation. In the past, this building was being used to house the "jail rehabilitation program", which sounds great in theory, and is not so great when you're living in it and you've never been to jail. That led to many police visits, drug use and prostitution, going on here. That program was taken out, and then apartments were left vacant for years. Now they are moving in the veterans, and I am HOPING that is not going to be another version of the past, which was a really unsafe atmosphere, especially if two single women are living in it.

7. When they tented the building, which they never told us they were doing until I called three times, they also never gave us instructions on what to do to prepare for the tenting. Only because I have access to computers, know how to use the internet, and thought to look it up, did Mary and myself find out that you have to remove ALL OF YOUR FOOD, including the stuff in the fridge and the freezer, to avoid getting POISONED TO DEATH. You are also supposed to remove your bedding, and of course, your pets and everything pertaining to your pets. If I hadn't TOLD MARY THIS, she might be dead from being poisoned to death. No written instructions were given to us. No telephone instructions were given to us.

8. Yesterday, when I went out to my car I found that they were painting the building next door, where I had parked my car because they kept waking me up in the morning to tell me to move my car so they could paint this building. Well, I removed the two giant tarps they put over my car, to find that paint spots were all over the hood. Do you think they are going to pay for a paint job or replace my vehicle? NEVER! No way that would ever happen. I have dealt with these people since 2006, and I know how they operate. They wouldn't give a damn about the paint on my car if I did bother to call them about it. Since I have an old car with other minor body issues, I'm not going to sue them, but some people would.

Thank you for allowing me to vent here. If you read this far, I just want to say that it really bothers me that the only affordable housing  I can find, which is also the only housing available specifically for people with mental illnesses in this area, is a place that has so many problems. I now wish that I had moved out of here when I had the chance three and a half months ago. But now that I have put MUCH work into moving in, unpacking, and decorating, not to mention the STRESS of finding a new place to live, packing, unpacking, and redecorating, there is no way I am going to move again right now. I am just hoping that the toxic poisons I and my two cats, and Mary and her cat have all been subjected to from this tenting, and the tenting that is going on next door tomorrow, does not lead to cancer or other illness, for which, of course, we would never be compensated. THEY DIDN'T EVEN TELL ME TO OPEN MY WINDOWS AFTERWARDS!! I had to go home, smell the fumes, open all the windows, turn the air and the fan on, and leave for another 24 hours, after it was deemed "safe" for occupancy by somebody who signed the sign on my door.

Why is it that so many community mental health agencies do such  crappy jobs at helping people they are supposed to be helping??? Of course, they know none of us have the money to sue them for anything that goes on here, and they push us around because they can.

Mary was told by the agency she goes to for treatment that she didn't need any more assistance because they needed more room for other people to enter their day treatment program that she had been going to regularly for eight years. So she stopped leaving her home. For years. She now won't leave unless her mother, who is 83 years old, picks her up to go to church. Or, if there is occasion for someone like me to offer her a place to go for a while. Otherwise, she is home bound, alone, and miserable. This is just criminal. That agency should never have told her she "graduated", or sent her off to suffer alone. It's wrong, and I'm sick of this crap.

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Good news and the weight of making major life-altering decisions

I posted here before about how I had gotten denied admission to a major, local university because I had a low "completion ratio" for classes that I had attempted to take years ago, but had to drop due to either severe depression or psychosis running my life. I read on the university's website after receiving the letter that said I was denied admission that I could appeal this decision, but that "fewer than ten percent of appeals are approved", and basically you should find another college to go to. Nonetheless, I decided to appeal the decision, because there were legitimate reasons, beyond my control, as to why I had to drop those classes in previous years, and dammit, I didn't want this to stop me from going to a university. I didn't think I'd get admitted at all, but I asked people write me letters of recommendation. I got a letter from my former therapist who saw me for most of the past four years, a letter from past presidents of NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) in my county, one from a professor who actually teaches at this university and who is familiar with my advocacy work for the National Organization for Women, a letter from the Florida president of NOW, a letter from a staff member in the office of services for students with disabilities at my current college (the community college), where I have received services for years that have helped me get through school to this point, and a letter from a wonderful former professor of mine who has remained a friend and mentor over the past fifteen years and knows all about my illness, which stated that he would personally go and talk to the dean of admissions if it would help me get into the university, and then I wrote my own letter, detailing my story. My letter was 15 typed pages. I also included medical records, such as a psychiatric evaluation that was done recently, and notes on my medications and current treatment. I sent it all in, several weeks ago, figuring it was pointless to do this but I had to try or I'd wonder forever what would have happened if I had tried.

A few days ago I found out I was admitted to the university. I was shocked! I was totally shocked.

I was thrilled and couldn't believe it. At the same time, I was instantly overwhelmed with the weight of the decisions I now have to make and the things I now have to do. I wasn't prepared to get admitted there. I need to finalize the decision on my major. I wanted to do social work, although it doesn't pay much money, because I think I'd like it, and I think I'd be good at it. I do a lot of helping people with advice and a lot of volunteering with NAMI, and I know a lot about mental health resources, so I think I'd be alright as a case manager in a community mental health agency. Then again, the fact that I have a mental illness does not need to define my life or decide my future career. Ultimately, this decision came down to the fact that, even if I got admitted to the very selective social work program, I'd have to be a full time student, and I'd have to do an unpaid internship. Being a full time student is something I normally never do, because I work, and part time college is really all I can manage with my part time job. Driving an hour each way four days a week for classes, and maintaining my job, and keeping up with the studying and coursework for all those classes just wouldn't be possible for me. Other people may be able to do that, but I am not up to that. So I am not going into the social work program.

Then I had to decide on which major I am going to do. I have been contemplating this for days, and I have still not decided. There is also another decision I need to make, and that is, which campus I am going to go to. There is a monstrous campus in a local, major city I could attend, and that is the university's main campus. Then there is a small, closer campus I could attend where there are only a few majors to choose from. The major, Interdisciplinary Social Sciences, is offered there, and this really intrigues me. Women's Studies is also offered there, but for practical reasons (like getting a job), I don't think I'll choose that major.

I have spoken to advisors at both campuses on the phone, and then, the other day, visited the smaller campus and spoke with an advisor, turned in my final paperwork for financial aid, spoke with admissions representatives, and spoke with someone in the office for disabilities services. I came away from that still unsure as to what to do.

The degree that I was getting at the community college was Public Policy and Administration, and there is a possibility that I'd get a better-paying job with that degree than with a degree in social sciences. I have no way of knowing for sure if this is true. I have been in a low income status for so much of my life that I really want to get myself out of poverty, be able to get a decent car, someday buy a house or at least get a nicer apartment in a safe neighborhood, and do some traveling sometime in this lifetime. I do want a degree that will allow me to make enough money to do those things. This is assuming that I will be able to work full time, something that I've never been able to do for more than a few months in my life, so this is all still hypothetical anyway.

What to do....what to do???

I have to figure this out, and fast, because classes are starting in a few weeks. I have been running around trying to get things done to be able to take classes in the fall, and I really wish that there was someone I could ask who could help me make this decision. I've asked the few friends I have, and people basically say different things, but of course no one can make the decision for me, all they can do is tell me that I should make the one that is best for me. I am just not sure what that is.

If you have any thoughts on this, I'd be interested in hearing them. I am open and willing to listen to all opinions on the matter. Heck, I even posted a poll about it for my Facebook friends to respond! I'm that desperate for help.

I'm trying to maintain my sanity and not get too anxious during this stressful time, and it's rather hard. But I'm trying, and I'm trying to make sure I get enough sleep which isn't working out too well these days, as usual. Right now they're treating my apartment building for termites and I'm spending the nights at my mom's house or at a spare apartment the landlord owns, because they made the tenants evacuate to put a tent over the building. Because of all this that has been going on, I have not been able to keep up with other people's blogs lately. I also took a trip to Baltimore to visit relatives, and a trip to a conference for NOW, so that has all kept me very busy in recent weeks. I apologize for not visiting your blogs and commenting on them lately. I know it's unfair to expect anyone to comment on mine when I've been absent from yours, but if you are here and reading this, I would be very grateful if you would say what you think about this topic.

Thanks, as always, for listening. I truly appreciate all of you readers.

Sunday, July 03, 2011

Things I wish I could tell my mother (and negative people in general)

1. I'm sorry you're miserable around the clock. Your constant need to vent your misery to everyone around you spreads the wealth. So, thanks for that.

2. I'm sorry the world doesn't revolve around your happiness. If you need to leave your job every two months for twenty years, and get a new one, then perhaps there is an issue you need to deal with related to yourself and not the other people at every place you ever work. Just a thought.

3. I'm sorry you hate the world. I wish you could see the beauty that I find in it every day. I feel sorry for you that you have blinders on and can only see everything wrong with everything. It must be hard to live like that. This is one of the reasons I make efforts to be there for you. I know you're miserable. It would be nice if you tried, just once in a while to see something good in something. Just once in a while. You might find life worth living if you could do that.

4. I'm sorry nothing is ever good enough for you, and nothing anyone says is ever right. I'm sorry that everywhere you go you spend your time wishing you were somewhere better, so you never enjoy the place you're actually at. It must be hard to live like that.

5. I'm sorry that everything in your life is a problem, and you feel the need to constantly talk about these problems to anyone within earshot. It would be cool if you realized people don't always like to hear all about all your problems all the time, because the funny thing is, most people have their own problems to worry about,  not just yours.

6. I'm sorry that you alienate everyone you come across. It must be lonely when you do that. If you actually tried to do therapy, like I've been pleading with you to do for years, perhaps you would learn how to navigate the world without doing that to everyone.

7. I'm sorry neither myself nor anybody else has ever or will ever live up to your expectations of them. I don't know if it's ever occurred to you that maybe you don't meet up to my expectations either, but I choose not to remind you of this fact on a daily basis.

8. I'm sorry that going on a trip means to you that you're being ripped off because you should have been able to go on a better trip to somewhere else, and you therefore decide to spend the entire trip complaining non-stop about how miserable you are, because, once again, nothing is ever good enough for you. I'm also really, really sorry I made the mistake of going on this trip with you, and you've taken advantage of this opportunity to ruin my visit to see my grandmother by drowning me in your misery.

9. I'm sorry you've never learned manners. It would be nice if you tried to get some, and stopped being rude to people on a regular basis because you feel it's your prerogative to do so since everybody owes you something they never pay you.

10. I'm sorry that no restaurant serves good food or has good service or puts you in a good seat or has the temperature right or gives you free dinners since you think everything should be free for you.

11. I'm sorry nobody ever treats you "right" or well enough, because you are the perennial victim, the most victimized of all victims who have ever lived on the face of the earth. This must seem pretty unfair to you. I'm sorry genocide, holocausts, famines, floods, hurricanes, nuclear disasters, terminal illnesses, brain damage, murder, and other things that have caused people misery on this planet throughout the history of time have never entered your consciousness, and you never think about them at all.

12. I'm sorry you lack the ability to feel empathy, as you not only hate yourself, you don't like anybody else much either.

13. I'm sorry everything I've ever done or said in my entire life has been wrong and not good enough and caused problems for you, and that I am to blame for all of your misery whenever there's nobody else to blame around. You must be pretty pissed at me for that.

14. I'm sorry airplanes are too small, traffic exists, babies cry, neighbors gossip, cars break down, jobs are hard work, and life can suck. It's too bad everything can't be perfect for you like you believe it should be. This must frustrate you a lot, and your frustration is pretty obvious.

15. I'm sorry the world doesn't revolve around you. I'm sorry the universe doesn't either. I'm sorry you are not the focal point of everyone's attention at all times. You are really getting ripped off here, clearly.

16. I'm sorry that all of my 36 years have been spent being stressed out by you, worrying about you, being mistreated by you, or generally being blamed for everything that makes you unhappy, and you have never notice this.

17. I'm sorry your husband left you 22 years ago. You obviously should remain pissed off about this for life. There is no other way to live, I guess.

18. I'm sorry the universe rains on your parade all the time, and nothing ever works out well, and there isn't anything positive you ever have to say about anything. It must be hard to live like that.

19. I'm sorry you never have enough money and nobody ever gives you enough money for you to have enough money, life somebody obviously should, so you would be able to live comfortably continuing your method of never budgeting money at all. The lottery should just be given to you. All of the money. On a regular basis. Maybe then you would have enough, but probably not since somebody like Bill Gates might still have more money than you, and that's just not right.

20. I'm sorry nobody lives your life for you so you don't have to worry about managing it yourself.

21. I'm sorry you expect me, and the rest of the planet, to feel sorry for you at all times, forever, because you are the most victimized person who has ever existed. People obviously fail to have enough sympathy for you. I can't imagine why.

22. I'm sorry you choose to live your life like it's a death sentence to have to function in society, rather than choosing to actually just go about your day like everybody else without hating everything you have to do to manage your life.

23. I'm sorry you don't know how to have an intimate relationship based on mutual respect with another human being, and that the only way you know how to relate to people is to be codependent or to be angry at them since they never do anything right. I'm sorry you hate the world.

24. I'm sorry I've never learned an effective way to live with you in my life without being constantly stressed out by you, because some magical fix should have occurred to me by now.

25. I'm sorry I resent the hell out of you for all the stress you cause me and for the fact that you have never even realized you caused me stress at all or cared about whether or not you did, and you never will.

26. I'm sorry I'm not sorry enough, and even if I spend the rest of my life trying to be sorry enough I never will be sorry enough for you.

27. I'm sorry you create chaos all around you all the time with your misery and your anger, because even though you don't care about this, it actually does harm to other people besides yourself.

28. I'm sorry you don't have everything you want or think you deserve and you never will, and this is obviously unfair.

29. I'm sorry you have few close friends and don't know how to keep any friends. I wonder why that is.

30. I'm sorry you feel the need to use me to be your sounding board and proverbial punching bag, and you expect me to be your mother because even though you don't care about this, that has actually left me with no mother at all.

31. I'm sorry you will never realize or believe that anything I have written about you here is completely true. Because it all is. And you'd be a lot better off if you knew that.

32. I'm sorry the Brownies and the fairies don't show up to clean your house, do all your dishes and laundry and fix everything you've broken or destroyed in your house for you like they obviously should do on a daily basis so you wouldn't have to concern yourself with those things like the rest of the planet does.

33. I'm sorry the rest of the planet doesn't even exist in your mind except as the people who constantly persecute you and fail to meet your standards.

34. I'm sorry you're going to remain miserable for the rest of your life.
This truly makes me very sad.