"Working"

So I think my meds are working. Or "working" rather. They seem to only be helping in a few small areas, and even then it's really not much help. It seems to have gotten rid of a lot of my lethargy, I want to go outside and work in my garden or sew or something. But it just seems pretty mindless to me, like I'm going through the motions but it's not actually engaging? But that might just be how flat my emotions have gotten. Sure I don't get depressed necessarily, but I can tell when I would be depressed, because I feel nothing. I feel listless and misplaced, like I'm floating on the surface of a flat grey ocean and while I'm not drowning I'm still not dry. Other than that I'm just angry. A lot. Everything pisses me off. I can't stand being around my mom because she makes it flare up the worst. She just stalks around the house with too much free time on her hands since Dave broke up with her so now she's not working but still on his payroll until she can find another job. She's decided that since I'm no longer in school I can't possibly have any reason to be depressed so she's "cracking down." In other words being un-godly obnoxious with her constant hounding me to do petty inane tasks and gift unto me all her untold wisdom of how to do literally anything and everything. All she's doing is making me want out. It's really funny, actually, because she always said she was afraid Jordan and I would leave and never come back. I don't know in what context you tell that to your ten year old but by golly she told us all the fucking time. And now, that's what she's making me want to do. Not leave all the way, I don't hate her, by any means, but I just want her to get her fucking talons out of my life. She always brags about how she isn't a helicopter parent, how she has other important things in her life aside from her kids, she's not like all her friends. The only difference is that she doesn't see it. She doesn't see the way I cringe every time she says she wants to talk about her ideas for San Fran (don't care abbreviating it like that is insulting, san fran can suck my cock because it's bullshit to type out all the time) because that just her into into "Here's how I'm going to tell you what to do with every aspect of your life from how you grocery shop to the furnishings of your bedroom!"I just want to get out there, take her pile of fucking annoying ideas, and hurl them into the bay. She wants to raise good kids? Well in my opinion she's already fucked that bit up, but she needs to let us go to see how she's done. I just want to stand on my own, I don't care how scary it's gonna be. I want to fuck up grocery shopping, I want to accidentally blow all my money because I didn't manage it right, I want to realize that my interior decorating is fucked an inefficient (Fat chance of that though, I'm the shit at organizing shit.) But she's not gonna let me. She's hung so much of her own validation on my success that she can't bare to see me fail, because to her that means she's failed. But part of me wants to fail. Part of me even knows I will. Catastrophically. It'll be devastating. It'll fuck me up for years to come, but it will have been my fuck up. Mine. No parenting can save kids from fucking up, just by having a kid you've already doomed them to being scarred and fucked over by your parenting. Pity my mom refuses to see that, that she's fucked me up. I don't care that she has, but she needs to stop trying to put a big over-attentive bandage over it and pretending that anything she's doing in these last few months is actually going to help me in anyway.

See? Angry. And alone. I know I have friends. But most of the time it feels like I don't.