Happy New year folkses.
After a long fabulous break…family, gifts, rearing chicken. Cool stuff.
I have no resolutions. The way I see it, my life, a skilled tormentor, is free to careen in the shit direction it has been taking, and if it feels like altering course and pleasantly surprising me, I will be honored.
Beyond that, I only intend to kneel and pray, or merely whimper.
At the beginning of the year, I had one resolution. To commit. To a living thing. Animate. Preferably a dog. Or a man. There.
"This is the year I work through my phobia", I said.
I need to be a nicer person, to stop being such a colossal b****.
I know I’m lying of course. Commitment and all that boyfriendy-girlfriendy stuff kills me!! I love nothing more than to sabotage as exhaustively as possible, a stable relationship.
Seriously if an angel appeared on my death bed and said “forsake self-sabotage while you still have time and you can live forever in the perfect relationship”, I would shit in his halo and tell the feathery fool to be off.
The part I should be clear about of course is, I don’t ‘love’ per se, but it comes naturally to me that I eat, drink, shit and self sabotage.
Actually I went into therapy about my commitophobia. My Mummy, teacher-turned shrink. (It breaks me that my mother had to rear her kids before she could go back to school to study. I just don’t get it. Shelving yours dreams like that, I love you mommy). Anyway, Mummy decided to sort me out, against ethics of course since you don’t shrink your own…you prolly caused it. There was nothing like semi-lit room sijui lie comfortably and let it all hang out. LOL…just small talk after lazy lunch.
I know my mum is fed up with it. Like she was so happy that I was with Superman for (insert time), and now sasa its shot to shiet/ or is gonna shoot, same difference, halafu she is not getting any younger in the quest for grandkids vile none of her children looks like getting hitched ever.
I mean, if you were a mum how would you feel. LOOOOL.
Anyways, it went;
Mummy: How is your boyfriend
KM: we broke up
Mummy: when? what happened
KM: Mum, I dunno. I think we have broken up.
Mummy: You love him?
KM:I think so
Mummy: Trust him?
KM: I don’t know.
(At some point, exit mummy, enter Dr. Phil)
Mummy: How are things with you sexually?
*gasp, gasp*, how am I to tell the woman who since I turned 16 asked every month if I have had my period eti I get spanked on the regular and mad cunnilingus every morning? You are kidding! Tiga wana meni…My mum can go talk sex with her deprived subjects whose husbands are banging 18 year olds, not me!
Me: Fine
(exit Dr Phil, enter Mummy)
Mummy: Have you been tested? Are you using condoms? Are you safe?
Me: Yeah mum, we got tested.
(Re-enter Dr. Phil)
Mummy: Sometimes your sexual relationship, can tell to what extent you trust each other although other things matter as well.
At this point, I am very uncomfortable, so I excuse myself to go feed the chicken.
Anyway, fast forward to hours and hours later, my mum said that I am a control freak *rolls eyes* and “you avoid situations where you might lose control. It may be due to the fact that you have witnessed situations which you feel the aggrieved parties could have exercised greater control yet their judgments contradicted to what you felt should have been done…” blab bla. As a result, I am apparently obsessed with self preservation and general disregard for other people’s feeling but my own.
WTF!! The woman, who is not my mother, I mean, tell me you picked me in a reed basket from the river and we'll be even ok?…whose mother tells their child that?
Anyway, amid tears, I picked my diagnosis from hell after mummy told me again that I may be spending too much energy on controlling situations. She stabbed me from every imaginable angle!! So I decided, fuggit, I will commit, and I promised to try. You know you are fucked up, but when your own mother tells you that, something's gotta give.
The only reason I promised was because I agreed with Ma’ that I would try to let things be ‘without compromising my ideals on what I deserve and how I should be treated”
There was also some sparrow shit about meeting people halfway nini ninii.
How can I say this? I have seen fucked up, and I avoid fucked up. I have seen people totally in love end up heartbroken. How people’s affections dwindle over years into a bored and complying acceptance really is beyond me. Whatever goes wrong? I don’t know. I don’t intend to find out.
That story of walking around with bad hair thinking of tethering your neck because another human hurt you is pure fuck. To give another human such power to crush your spirit and have you driveling in psychotherapy is surely retarded.
I have been hurt. Nothing major though. I bounce back and move swiftly along. Anything more than that and I would kill myself. That is how disappointed I would be with myself. I would rid the world of the shame.
Needless to say, 2 weeks later, I am fairly certain I have broken or will break, (same difference) that promise. I know I will over analyze, I will be a control freak. I will be the same selfish person with my feelings. I will self sabotage. I will not commit. Feed that resolution to the dogs.
Matters not helped of course by the fact that I heard this woman bitching on radio that her husband came home wearing a woman’s panties.
LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL. Tihihihihi,. LMAO. I know, I know, such grave insult really but aiiiii, now how the eff does that happen. In my head that is just too damn funny!! Halafu, LOL, yaani, that is pure madness. Tihiiii, eti a woman’s panties! Kwani he forgot to toa them after role play was over…*smh* did he dress in the dark? Did he not fel the ‘different fit’….Oh! a thousand questions!!! Tihiiii.
So, seeing as I have no resolution, there is nothing to hold me against. And for all those with resolutions, the best to you. Happy new year everybody. Blessings all around.
After a long fabulous break…family, gifts, rearing chicken. Cool stuff.
I have no resolutions. The way I see it, my life, a skilled tormentor, is free to careen in the shit direction it has been taking, and if it feels like altering course and pleasantly surprising me, I will be honored.
Beyond that, I only intend to kneel and pray, or merely whimper.
At the beginning of the year, I had one resolution. To commit. To a living thing. Animate. Preferably a dog. Or a man. There.
"This is the year I work through my phobia", I said.
I need to be a nicer person, to stop being such a colossal b****.
I know I’m lying of course. Commitment and all that boyfriendy-girlfriendy stuff kills me!! I love nothing more than to sabotage as exhaustively as possible, a stable relationship.
Seriously if an angel appeared on my death bed and said “forsake self-sabotage while you still have time and you can live forever in the perfect relationship”, I would shit in his halo and tell the feathery fool to be off.
The part I should be clear about of course is, I don’t ‘love’ per se, but it comes naturally to me that I eat, drink, shit and self sabotage.
Actually I went into therapy about my commitophobia. My Mummy, teacher-turned shrink. (It breaks me that my mother had to rear her kids before she could go back to school to study. I just don’t get it. Shelving yours dreams like that, I love you mommy). Anyway, Mummy decided to sort me out, against ethics of course since you don’t shrink your own…you prolly caused it. There was nothing like semi-lit room sijui lie comfortably and let it all hang out. LOL…just small talk after lazy lunch.
I know my mum is fed up with it. Like she was so happy that I was with Superman for (insert time), and now sasa its shot to shiet/ or is gonna shoot, same difference, halafu she is not getting any younger in the quest for grandkids vile none of her children looks like getting hitched ever.
I mean, if you were a mum how would you feel. LOOOOL.
Anyways, it went;
Mummy: How is your boyfriend
KM: we broke up
Mummy: when? what happened
KM: Mum, I dunno. I think we have broken up.
Mummy: You love him?
KM:I think so
Mummy: Trust him?
KM: I don’t know.
(At some point, exit mummy, enter Dr. Phil)
Mummy: How are things with you sexually?
*gasp, gasp*, how am I to tell the woman who since I turned 16 asked every month if I have had my period eti I get spanked on the regular and mad cunnilingus every morning? You are kidding! Tiga wana meni…My mum can go talk sex with her deprived subjects whose husbands are banging 18 year olds, not me!
Me: Fine
(exit Dr Phil, enter Mummy)
Mummy: Have you been tested? Are you using condoms? Are you safe?
Me: Yeah mum, we got tested.
(Re-enter Dr. Phil)
Mummy: Sometimes your sexual relationship, can tell to what extent you trust each other although other things matter as well.
At this point, I am very uncomfortable, so I excuse myself to go feed the chicken.
Anyway, fast forward to hours and hours later, my mum said that I am a control freak *rolls eyes* and “you avoid situations where you might lose control. It may be due to the fact that you have witnessed situations which you feel the aggrieved parties could have exercised greater control yet their judgments contradicted to what you felt should have been done…” blab bla. As a result, I am apparently obsessed with self preservation and general disregard for other people’s feeling but my own.
WTF!! The woman, who is not my mother, I mean, tell me you picked me in a reed basket from the river and we'll be even ok?…whose mother tells their child that?
Anyway, amid tears, I picked my diagnosis from hell after mummy told me again that I may be spending too much energy on controlling situations. She stabbed me from every imaginable angle!! So I decided, fuggit, I will commit, and I promised to try. You know you are fucked up, but when your own mother tells you that, something's gotta give.
The only reason I promised was because I agreed with Ma’ that I would try to let things be ‘without compromising my ideals on what I deserve and how I should be treated”
There was also some sparrow shit about meeting people halfway nini ninii.
How can I say this? I have seen fucked up, and I avoid fucked up. I have seen people totally in love end up heartbroken. How people’s affections dwindle over years into a bored and complying acceptance really is beyond me. Whatever goes wrong? I don’t know. I don’t intend to find out.
That story of walking around with bad hair thinking of tethering your neck because another human hurt you is pure fuck. To give another human such power to crush your spirit and have you driveling in psychotherapy is surely retarded.
I have been hurt. Nothing major though. I bounce back and move swiftly along. Anything more than that and I would kill myself. That is how disappointed I would be with myself. I would rid the world of the shame.
Needless to say, 2 weeks later, I am fairly certain I have broken or will break, (same difference) that promise. I know I will over analyze, I will be a control freak. I will be the same selfish person with my feelings. I will self sabotage. I will not commit. Feed that resolution to the dogs.
Matters not helped of course by the fact that I heard this woman bitching on radio that her husband came home wearing a woman’s panties.
LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL. Tihihihihi,. LMAO. I know, I know, such grave insult really but aiiiii, now how the eff does that happen. In my head that is just too damn funny!! Halafu, LOL, yaani, that is pure madness. Tihiiii, eti a woman’s panties! Kwani he forgot to toa them after role play was over…*smh* did he dress in the dark? Did he not fel the ‘different fit’….Oh! a thousand questions!!! Tihiiii.
So, seeing as I have no resolution, there is nothing to hold me against. And for all those with resolutions, the best to you. Happy new year everybody. Blessings all around.
