#FreeBetsey

I’m supposed to start an 8-week intensive dance audition workshop tonight. I should be really excited, and I was until an hour ago, but now I’m not. Why?

This class means I need to use a room with a wood floor for two whole hours one night a week. Reasonable, right? When I explained this to my parents, the response from my mother was to glare at me (of course) while my father flipped out and started ranting about me “taking over the house.” Really! All because I need to use the living room for two hours once a week to do something positive and constructive for myself so I can be a better person and heal. This is called “taking responsibility for my own happiness.”

The thing I find really funny is that every time someone says it’s my responsibility to be happy, and I take steps to do something that makes me happy, those same people always turn it into some screaming meltdown insult fest where they tear me down to nothing.

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with these people? Why can’t they just be happy for me? Why do they have to put on this big act about caring then go out of their way to destroy my big moments?

I’ve noticed this prevalent mentality within my family, which is probably why I have such a huge issue with it outside of my family. That, and I live in South Dakota, a place where 99% of the people here are just R-E-A-D-Y and waiting to stab other people in the back for funsies. They live for that shit, truly. It’s disgusting. Anyway, yeah, my dealings with the outside world definitely reflect my family dynamics.

I just wonder… why? Why must there be a screaming meltdown in response to literally anything and everything I try to do? I feel like Britney Spears all the time, except I have no money for my family to siphon off me. That makes it even worse. They’re just holding me hostage because they can, not because they are profiting off of it.

When I desperately needed a break from school after being raped in my own bed by someone I thought was my friend, I suggested taking a semester off to go be an au pair in France. Great idea, right? Wrong. Screaming meltdown.

When I wanted to transfer out of USD because I was really unhappy, the response was yet another screaming meltdown. Why? Because “ALL COLLEGES ARE THE SAME AND IT’S GOING TO BE THE SAME EVERYWHERE SO JUST FINISH HERE.” No discussion about student loans, scholarships, responsible financial planning for the future, extended breaks, transfer options, etc. Just screaming meltdowns.

Brother and sister skipped my college graduation? Who cares? Why do I feel entitled to my perfect older sister’s attention when I am such a disgusting piece of shit? She’s perfect so she can do whatever she wants, especially skipping out on her own family. Oh, I have a problem with being treated like the scapegoat while constantly being triangulated against the perfect golden child? How DARE I express such a sentiment! Cue up the screaming meltdown!

Brother also skipped my high school graduation. I was told to get over it. He gets to do whatever he wants because he has an addiction, which means he can’t work and he gets to drop out of school because he’s unhappy, and he needs to be live at home and nobody can ever say anything bad about him because of his ~ * ~ A d D i C t I o N ~ * ~. Guess what I get when I admit to having the same addiction? You guessed it! A screaming meltdown! With the extra bonus of being called lazy on top of it, even though I actually got my degree, worked for several years, traveled, and wrote multiple books. Do I get a break to get my shit together? No.

When I was out in California and needed money to try to stay there, what did I get? A screaming meltdown.

When I was staying with my cousins on the East Coast and one of them turned out to be a raging alcoholic who could not be trusted, what did I get? A screaming meltdown.

When I was in Paris and happily going to school every day, what did I get? A screaming meltdown threatening to cut me off and abandon me in a foreign country.

When I was in Utah working at the resort and needed something mailed to me? Screaming meltdown and threats of keeping my mail from me, which is illegal, btw.

When I wanted to go on my first solo cross-country road trip, I was told the police would be called and my car would be reported as stolen. Then when I needed to escape my cousins, I was told to “just go live in my car.” But if that car were to break down in the middle of nowhere in a state like Montana? You better believe it’s time for another screaming meltdown.

Screaming meltdowns, screaming meltdowns, screaming meltdowns. All I ever hear from anyone these days in screaming meltdowns about what a horrible person I am. It gets old. At least I’m trying to be happy and change myself for the better. What are these people doing? Having screaming meltdowns about everything all the time.

What am I going to do about this? Charge the invoice to their credit card and take over the room once a week, of course. I’m tired of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane. Go ahead and have your screaming meltdown. I’ll make sure the camera is on and I am unmuted so everyone can see you throwing a tantrum. Shit, I’ll just take out my phone and livestream your psycho shit on Facebook so the whole world can see. I don’t give a fuck anymore.

I’m taking my dance class and I’m going to be happy. Why? Because it’s MY responsibility to make myself happy. That’s why. If other people want to have a screaming meltdown over it, they can do that. I shouldn’t have to fight with these people over every little thing I do. I shouldn’t have to deal with everyone around me constantly insulting and berating me for wanting to dance and watch movies and write books and go to grad school and not work at a fucking restaurant. But no.

All I ever get is the screaming meltdowns.

Guess it’s time to learn how to just tune that shit out.

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