It just slipped out...

I am stupid.


I promised myself I wouldn't write about my love life here, because I know my amour occasionally reads this. You know, to avoid my big stupid mouth running off at length and perhaps saying (writing) something I don't mean. We all do that, right...but it's so much more crummy in writing. At any rate that is precisely what I want to chit chat about. My big stupid mouth.

To call me impulsive would be a major understatement and because of this I am prone to make a lot of stupid decisions and stupid mistakes. And let me tell you 'it's not my fault' only has so much weight. Very little actually, if you aren't a ten year old. And even with the clarity the Ritalin has given me, my misfiring, pre-drug brain has created habits that have become very hard to break. It's as if I have to re-learn how to be in the world.
So as I clumsily manoever this life of mine, tripping and stubbing my toes the whole way, the crazy fools who choose to be with me ( thinking that cause I look like an adult I must be one) get burned. And sometimes badly.
The impulsiveness also translates into impatience and frustration and rage at not being understood. But also heaps of guilt...I experienced this tenfold after having started the Ritalin. It's as if a window opened on all the tumultuous situations in my life and shone a light on the culprit...ME.
So with my impatience glaring and obvious in these little flashbacks, I experienced those heaps of guilt I talked about. I think guilt is one of the most unhealthy feelings, because it's so amorphous, it teaches you little or nothing and is always directed at yourself. Guilt is the emotional equivalent to shooting yourself in the foot.
Good rarely comes of guilt..(and I'm not talking liberal guilt that makes rich people donate to charities...I'm talking about making yourself feel lower than worms). This is where I tended to abuse the hell out of myself. Drinking till you puke and pass out, anyone? Ganja till my eyes turn green, chums? Self-destruction can actually feel productive when you think you're an asshole and don't deserve to be loved.

But that, too, is an immature response. And I'm trying really hard to upgrade instead of taking steps backwards off this cliff. Thing is, for the man I love, it may be too late. Because I have made SO many mistakes...I've tried to hurt myself, tried to hurt him. I've tried to cover it up, because of guilt and stupidity and a brain that needs a little help with its homework. And I'm not sure he knows how much he has helped and how patient he has been and how much I appreciate and love him. I tell him, but it always seems to me that it comes out sounding needy, and I don't want it to. I want him to realise that with all of my faults and handicaps, I am a strong and nurturing woman capable of great things. I don't offer a needy love. I want my love to support him, hold him like a hammock, to make him realise he has someone always looking out for him, someone to break his fall.

This is another reason I need this place to write. I need to admit...to myself, to the world...(okay to the, like, TWO people who read this) that I have fucked up royally but am trying to mend.

In Sudbury, they have these things called slag dumps where the molten nickel from the mines is poured on top these large dumping hills and the locals will grab beer and watch it dribble down the hills on Saturday nights because it's all lit up like a bright, glowing lava sundae. Basically, it's nickel run-off....it's the junk that's no longer useful. It's the stuff they separate from what is valuable. So that's what this is....my slag dump. And occasionally, even though I don't want my junk anymore, it looks pretty brilliant being dumped on a dark website in Montréal.