9st in A Nice Dream On Elm Street

Car was broken into this morning. I won’t have my car for my birthday, but I should have it back one day after, by next Friday, hopefully.
Both my parents had dysfunctional childhoods, though one had it slightly worse than the other. As it turns out, I was no different. It really doesn’t sit well to be pushing 40 and suddenly get this vague memory of something really, really bad that happened to you.
And you don’t even know who else was involved, you just remember a thing, it happened, maybe you didn’t want it to, maybe you were trying to leave, but now you know and realize why you are the way you are around people. Only took 40 years to figure out I’m terrified of most people because early on I learned they’d likely just hurt me.
Anyway, the cop saw some stems and shake in my driver side door..hole thing, and started harping to my mom about this and that, which of course caused her to become irrationally angry at the fact that someone was, I don’t know what her words were exactly, but talking shit about her kid summed it up I guess. This woman is strong, the strongest person I know, basically. Told me she just straight up prayed to DOG to give her strength instead of weakness and he answered by turning her into a workhorse x100.
My dad, he just hid it, and was able to hide it pretty good..I mean unless I choose not to remember everytime he seemed pointlessly angry at me or like he didn’t want to be a parent.
I have no “cope” for this other than to numb my senses or otherwise live in my astonishingly radical imaginary life in my head.
I’ll never be normal, never find “someone”, I might be content and ok, but I’ll never be “happy”. You deserve to though, mom, you do. You don’t have much now except two grown adult addicts living with you. You both fucked up, let’s be honest. I’m not so far off from the bums and losers on the street I disdain so much, except I have a car and a job and a place where I’m wanted, not needed. Has family or a loved one ever said that to you?
I’m too angry about my car almost being stolen to really process much else, but the ever present “You were fucked or worse” is always there. Always. How can therapists just sit there and say to get over it and not let it ‘rule you’. What a crock, “Oh hey you know just waltz on down to the happy store and get you summa’ that!”
Stop numbing your senses and stop letting the bad inescapable horrible things to happened to you (Because I worked and your father was an addict who put you in these places) rule you, goshdarnit! It’s doable I guess, I mean people do that shit everyday, I’ve met a few, they just up & “Huh? Oh yeah, that happened, but I’m good now.” It hurts, too, when the little kids your age in kindergarten don’t want to be around you because they know something is just off or strange about you.
..I DO remember doing something to piss off the kid in the wheelchair, though. Only like, two kids in that whole class talked and played with me.

..Anyway, I’m like. All I’m paying is the deductible for this, right?
I keep telling Dog to let me die, and the closest I come is choking on my own spit.
Calm down, I’m mostly just angry I don’t have my freedom to drive around and talk to myself while smoking weed and cigarettes! Ha! It’s like “Here in my car, I feel safest of all…”
I’m ok.