Cracked

17 days.  I actually bet against myself that I would go totally nuts at Day 14 or even Day 10.  I gained 3 days.  It's been such a nightmare living at home.  This loss of control over how I go about my day is stressing me out.  I'm trying my best to find a job or even a volunteering position to keep me sane and even that isn't working out.  I can't spend my days running "errands" all day long when it's really just me driving around trying to get 10 seconds to breathe before I have to go home.

"You're not going to get outta here until you're married."

Believe me, I want to move out as soon as possible.  Everything is shared here, I get it.  My independence was castrated when our SUV pulled into our driveway.  Going back to So Cal is just going to be a visit, I can't stay there anymore.  I can't be productive here because there's always going to be this lingering feeling that I'm still obligated to abide by that invisible leash.  I shouldn't stray more than 10 miles from home unless I'm with someone, I can't sit out at the coffee shop for hours into the night because I'll be asking for trouble, I'll be banished from the family if God forbid, I find a place of my own before I'm married.

"You're being ungrateful, after all we did for you, now you're just acting spoiled."

Do you ever wonder when your parents are going to use their financial support against you as a form of black mail?  It happened today.  That guilt card.  It's a stupid piece of furniture that I wanted to use.  That gigantic piece of scraped metal that IKEA calls a loft bed, was driven over 300 miles back here for me to use, not for storage.  We agreed on that multiple times.  All I asked was for my own corner, literally!  A corner of the room to myself, without having to share a spot with anyone.  Not that I'm being highly territorial-- I just want my things to belong somewhere and not be mixed up in house that constantly looks like a garage sale.

I get the lecture that I'm asking for too much, that it's my fault for not thinking where my old bed was going, etc.  How did it suddenly become my fault?  There's no use in arguing over what we should have done.  The problem now is that I'm at home and we have to figure out where I fit in.