I really should not ever go a full week without blogging. Blogging helps me to see things in a much better perspective.
The last almost week has been very busy and I've not had alot of time to dwell on issues.
Our youngest boy has had some difficulty adjusting to kindergarten this year and we are working hard at assisting him in this transition.
I was frustrated and a bit angry at the school as we made contact with them on several occasions to try and arrange a meeting.
Several times this week he was sent home with what they call skills, these are little notes that tell the parent when a child is sent to the "skills" room, which is basically a time out room.
I have no problem with the system, with the fact that he was put into time out, or the fact that he was given a "skills" to bring home.
My issue came when, in talking to our son, he indicated that before each of his offenses, he went to a teacher to help him solve an issue with another of his friends and the teacher pretty much blew him off, they say they "encourage" the children to work things out for themselves.
Now, mind you, I'm not talking about another student verbally mocking or insulting my son, one such incident involved another student kicking my son. He went to the teacher and she told im to use his "I words" which translates into "I don't like that". He did that, and still the child continued to kick him. So, my son spit on him.
In no way do I condone spitting on another person. Ever. It is nasty and disgusting, and he was punished for it, not only at school by being sent to the skills room, but, as well as at home. I simply will not tolerate disrespect from my children, not even aimed at another child.
So, the problem came when I tried to explain that my son is feeling as if he has to take things into his own hands because he is not being assisted by a teacher. I didn't expect the teacher to run over and punish the other child. She could however, have went over and stood there while my son used his "I words" to ensure that the other child was using his listning ears. Or, better yet, she could have stepped in and explained to the other child that we do not physically hurt our friends.
In trying to explain this, the teacher involved became very defensive. I tried again to explian that our son does have social issues, this is his first year around a group of children, that we in no way doubt that what she says he did, he actually did. Nor do we think that what he did was right. Nor will he go without punishment.
Even that didn't seem to satisfy her. She was still convinced that we were trying to get our son off the hook. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. I refuse to allow my children to dump ownership of their actions onto someone else. I don't care what another child does, he does NOT deserve to be spit on. No child should have to go to school afraid that someone else is going to hit them, or hurt them, or call them names, and I refuse to allow my children to become the bully.
I guess the problem comes because so many parents are more concerned with their own image. If their child does bad things, it makes them look bad right? Well, most parents can't handle that, me, I can handle that I'm not perfect, but the school is so used to defending themselves I guess that they can't accept it when I say "I know he did wrong, but, there were other factors and we need to correct this, not just him, but the other factors as well"
By other factors, I mean that when he went to a teacher, she should have stepped in. I think it sends a bad message to a five year old when he goes to a teacher, she refuses to help, and then he is punished by the same teacher only a moment later for what, in his mind, is defending himself. Again, his reaction was wrong, but, there is bound to be a reaction when someone is kickinig you. Also, my son is bored. Horribly. Acadmically he is about two grades higher then his peers. He reads, he writes, he does math, knows colors, shapes and sizes. The teacher I understand has other children to teach these things too, but, he is bored. Idle hands make for trouble.
>sighs<
So, meeting too place. I think we understand each other now. They are going to test his iq and reading and math to see if he should spend some time with the 1st graders so that he can be challenged academically. We do not think our son is perfect, and he will be punished for the things he does at school and they will call us if there is an issue that can't be worked out. They will take the time to listen to his words and help him find better solutions to problems.
On a better note, my oldest son is doing fabulous in school and despite a disability, has nearly caught up with his peers. We are so proud of him.
Chris has been invited to join a frat and I just can't help but giggle at the thought. Frat parties would never be the same once he attented.
Well, I will try to post more tomarrow for now I am heading to bed.
TW: Abuse/SA/Language/Suicide/Death A place to put down my thoughts about my past and current place to deal with my trauma and healing.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Accountability
I wanted to let you all know that I am feeling better. Still not great, but I am working on it. This post is going to jump alot because I have so much stuff swirling in my head that I need to get out before it drives me over the edge totally. If I ramble so much that something is not clear, just leave me a message or email me about it and I will try to clear it up later.
Last night one of my dearest friends and I had a long chat about motherhood and insecurities.
I realized that I was letting my fear of being a bad mother; keep me from enjoying myself as a good mother.
I have been letting all the crap from my past weigh me down, worrying about if I am a good mother or not, concerned with all that I am not doing, that it has made me shy away from my kids at a point when they really needed me to come closer to them.
That is what I am going to try to do. I am going to try to come closer to my kids instead of shying away. It will not be easy, as most of you already know, I tend to shy away when I go through the depressive state. Maybe that is normal, maybe not, but, this is a new of looking at things and I'm going to try it
I have spent alot of time reflecting on myself the past couple of weeks. I tend to do this whenever I get depressed but this time, I had alot of support from people I have known for a very long time, as well as some people I have met through my blog. I will not mention names, for they know who they are.
When I get depressed, I tend to think that the world is against me. Even the lady at the gas station is against me and it makes me almost impossible to death with. I am snappy and bitter and I tend to take everything said to me the wrong way. This has alienated a lot of good people in my life. I am so lucky to have a few friends who can see this pattern and get past it. To curb this, I normally shut down and lock everything inside of myself until I can't contain it anymore.
It erupts and heaven help the person who is in my path at that time. It is like a white hot fury that just spills out of me and man can I be hateful and nasty. I have struck Chris with my hands, I have destroyed things in our home, I have seen my children cry with fear.
Yes folks, I have issues. Serious ones. It would be easy for me to blame my mother, she is the one who lied to me and locked me away, she is the one who stood there and called me a liar because she couldn't face the facts of what her father had done. I could blame the system that I was placed into because it failed me, and man did it ever fail me, I could blame alot of people but that would all be a bunch of crap.
I recently spoke with my mother because my younger brother appeared at her home at 2am and dragged my father out of his bed by ranting and raving. What was he freaking out about? Well you see, the oldest brother in our family is a pervert, the one I won't let my children be alone with, and, well, he offered my younger brother three dollars to suck him off. FIFTEEN YEARS AGO! The younger brother said no and even by his own admission, that was the end of it. Now, I understand, that might have hurt him emotionally, but, to go over to my parents, walk in, and in a drunken rage, start spouting garbage about how they didn't protect him, how they should have know, yadda yadda yadda, at my dad (who, you might remember has a heart condition and is diabetic, oh, did I mention an insomniac who only sleeps about 4.5 hours a night) out of bed was just utterly infuriating.
So, anyway, I've digressed. You see, my mother called me to tell me this. I already knew because the older brother had also called (younger left my parents and showed up there banging in the door and screaming about how he would get a gun and kill him). So, I listened to my mother cry about what a crappy parent she was, how she wrecked all our lives, how her children hate her.
I really struggled through this portion of the conversation because I do believe my mother sucked at being a parent. I do think that the choices she made has left scars on us that will never go away no matter how hard we try.
I do not however, see my mother as responsible for my actions. I am a grown adult. Like her, I am capable of making my own decisions. I can choose to drink and use drugs and make life hell for my family, or I can choose to face my problems head on and deal with them. I don't need a weekly session with anyone, I don't need to take thirty thousand medications (one works just fine thank you very much) I don't need to blame others for my issues.
Like me my brother has chosen to get married and have a family. He has 4 children, the oldes of which is only recently turned 6. He has no job, and hasn't for about 4 years. His wife works her ass off to support them, but, he blows it just as quickly as she gets it. They have not paid my parents a dime in rent since they moved into the trailer next to my parents. The electric was shut off a few months back because they didn't pay the bill, and, if any of you reading this live in Idaho, you know how stupid this is, for the rest of you, Chris and I were paying 50 dollars a month during the hottest months when we ran our swamp cooler day and night. The bill reached 500 dollars and they cut it off. So, instead of paying it (his wife makes roughly 17 dollars an hour) they waited two months and she went down and had it put in her maiden name. The electric company then assumed that the old tenants moved out without leaving a forwarding address and have attached this 500 dollars to my parents bill. My brother and his wife both have made it very clear that they are not going to pay them a penny for it.
Now, I know that my parents sucked, but, as we have become adults, they do try to make things better. Besides, there is a fundamental difference between what happened to him and what happened to me. Let me see if I can make a clear graph of it.
HIM
1. Asked for sex
2. Death of sister
3. Placed in foster care for 6month
4. Blamed for nothing
5. Would never lie
ME
1. Raped
2. Death of sister, witness
3. In and out of places for 8years
4. Blamed for everything
5. Always lied
Now, as little as this list looks, these are some major differences in my opinion. He was ASKED for sex. Man, I'm a married woman, I get ASKED for sex all the time. I was raped and molested. Not just by my grandfather, but, my one brother, my foster parents, a group of boys in Denver, not to mention my ex husband on a semi regular basis.
Now, trust me, I am well aware of how the violent death of a sibling can impact you, but, imagine being a child waking up one day to find out that your oldest sister was dead. The man she loved killed her. Why?! I don't understand. Or, like me, you could find out that after beating her severely for several years, he finaly did the worst thing imaginable. Knowing that maybe, just maybe I could have done something because unlike the youngest sibling, I KNEW he was abusing her. I SAW him abusing her.
My younger brother could do no wrong. Ever. He was not punished as a child. I was horribly punished for things that the boys did because together they would blame me and of course two voices were better then one. Even now, instead of holding my brother responsible for his garbage, my mother is making exscuses for him. It's her fault, it's my fault, yes people, I did say it was my fault. How can that be you ask? Well so did I and the answer astonished me. Seems it is my fault that my brother is drinking himself stupid (I married an alchoholic in his formative years and took him in to live with me rather then allow him to go to Foster care) Why does he do crystal meth? Well, of course it is because I am a recovering coke addict. Why is he addicted to antipsychotic pills that were prescribed to his friend? Well, damn, don't you know, it's my fault because I was addicted to pain killers. Why is it he hasn't had a job in nearly four years? Why it was because Chris quit his job 6 weeks before we moved from Idaho. WAIT! Why did he quit school (both times) because >I< quit school (never mind that *I* did go back and get my GED on my own while he had to be nagged on every single day for months) Damn, I hadn't realized it, I have no idea how she can blame herself, everything is so obviously my fault.
He also is the epitomy of honesty. He would never cheat on his wife, go back to drugs, steal from her. No no, when he says he's clean it's the truth, he's not like me. How can I make up such things about him. How can I make up such horrible things about what was done to me as a child? Oh yeah, I remember her reason now, I had an overactive imagination. The bruises you say? Where did they come from? Oh, well, you know, I was a very delicate child, due to a blood disorder, the one that went away after I left home, I bruised at the slightest touch.
>stares<
Damn, no wonder I am so messed up. Hmm, blaming, yes, I blame them for what happened to me THEN. For not protecting me when it was there job, but guess what, now it is MY job to protect me. If I choose to surround myself with people who help me with that or not is up to me, but, in the end, it is up to me to protect myself. It is up to me to answer for the things that I do. To hold myself accountable. That is one of the reasons I write this. So that I can put down the things I do so that I can hold myself accountable for them. So I can go back and reflect and try to figure out where I went wrong so that I can avoid that from happening agian.
Damn, the world needs more people willing to be accountable. I wonder if it will ever really happen.
Last night one of my dearest friends and I had a long chat about motherhood and insecurities.
I realized that I was letting my fear of being a bad mother; keep me from enjoying myself as a good mother.
I have been letting all the crap from my past weigh me down, worrying about if I am a good mother or not, concerned with all that I am not doing, that it has made me shy away from my kids at a point when they really needed me to come closer to them.
That is what I am going to try to do. I am going to try to come closer to my kids instead of shying away. It will not be easy, as most of you already know, I tend to shy away when I go through the depressive state. Maybe that is normal, maybe not, but, this is a new of looking at things and I'm going to try it
I have spent alot of time reflecting on myself the past couple of weeks. I tend to do this whenever I get depressed but this time, I had alot of support from people I have known for a very long time, as well as some people I have met through my blog. I will not mention names, for they know who they are.
When I get depressed, I tend to think that the world is against me. Even the lady at the gas station is against me and it makes me almost impossible to death with. I am snappy and bitter and I tend to take everything said to me the wrong way. This has alienated a lot of good people in my life. I am so lucky to have a few friends who can see this pattern and get past it. To curb this, I normally shut down and lock everything inside of myself until I can't contain it anymore.
It erupts and heaven help the person who is in my path at that time. It is like a white hot fury that just spills out of me and man can I be hateful and nasty. I have struck Chris with my hands, I have destroyed things in our home, I have seen my children cry with fear.
Yes folks, I have issues. Serious ones. It would be easy for me to blame my mother, she is the one who lied to me and locked me away, she is the one who stood there and called me a liar because she couldn't face the facts of what her father had done. I could blame the system that I was placed into because it failed me, and man did it ever fail me, I could blame alot of people but that would all be a bunch of crap.
I recently spoke with my mother because my younger brother appeared at her home at 2am and dragged my father out of his bed by ranting and raving. What was he freaking out about? Well you see, the oldest brother in our family is a pervert, the one I won't let my children be alone with, and, well, he offered my younger brother three dollars to suck him off. FIFTEEN YEARS AGO! The younger brother said no and even by his own admission, that was the end of it. Now, I understand, that might have hurt him emotionally, but, to go over to my parents, walk in, and in a drunken rage, start spouting garbage about how they didn't protect him, how they should have know, yadda yadda yadda, at my dad (who, you might remember has a heart condition and is diabetic, oh, did I mention an insomniac who only sleeps about 4.5 hours a night) out of bed was just utterly infuriating.
So, anyway, I've digressed. You see, my mother called me to tell me this. I already knew because the older brother had also called (younger left my parents and showed up there banging in the door and screaming about how he would get a gun and kill him). So, I listened to my mother cry about what a crappy parent she was, how she wrecked all our lives, how her children hate her.
I really struggled through this portion of the conversation because I do believe my mother sucked at being a parent. I do think that the choices she made has left scars on us that will never go away no matter how hard we try.
I do not however, see my mother as responsible for my actions. I am a grown adult. Like her, I am capable of making my own decisions. I can choose to drink and use drugs and make life hell for my family, or I can choose to face my problems head on and deal with them. I don't need a weekly session with anyone, I don't need to take thirty thousand medications (one works just fine thank you very much) I don't need to blame others for my issues.
Like me my brother has chosen to get married and have a family. He has 4 children, the oldes of which is only recently turned 6. He has no job, and hasn't for about 4 years. His wife works her ass off to support them, but, he blows it just as quickly as she gets it. They have not paid my parents a dime in rent since they moved into the trailer next to my parents. The electric was shut off a few months back because they didn't pay the bill, and, if any of you reading this live in Idaho, you know how stupid this is, for the rest of you, Chris and I were paying 50 dollars a month during the hottest months when we ran our swamp cooler day and night. The bill reached 500 dollars and they cut it off. So, instead of paying it (his wife makes roughly 17 dollars an hour) they waited two months and she went down and had it put in her maiden name. The electric company then assumed that the old tenants moved out without leaving a forwarding address and have attached this 500 dollars to my parents bill. My brother and his wife both have made it very clear that they are not going to pay them a penny for it.
Now, I know that my parents sucked, but, as we have become adults, they do try to make things better. Besides, there is a fundamental difference between what happened to him and what happened to me. Let me see if I can make a clear graph of it.
HIM
1. Asked for sex
2. Death of sister
3. Placed in foster care for 6month
4. Blamed for nothing
5. Would never lie
ME
1. Raped
2. Death of sister, witness
3. In and out of places for 8years
4. Blamed for everything
5. Always lied
Now, as little as this list looks, these are some major differences in my opinion. He was ASKED for sex. Man, I'm a married woman, I get ASKED for sex all the time. I was raped and molested. Not just by my grandfather, but, my one brother, my foster parents, a group of boys in Denver, not to mention my ex husband on a semi regular basis.
Now, trust me, I am well aware of how the violent death of a sibling can impact you, but, imagine being a child waking up one day to find out that your oldest sister was dead. The man she loved killed her. Why?! I don't understand. Or, like me, you could find out that after beating her severely for several years, he finaly did the worst thing imaginable. Knowing that maybe, just maybe I could have done something because unlike the youngest sibling, I KNEW he was abusing her. I SAW him abusing her.
My younger brother could do no wrong. Ever. He was not punished as a child. I was horribly punished for things that the boys did because together they would blame me and of course two voices were better then one. Even now, instead of holding my brother responsible for his garbage, my mother is making exscuses for him. It's her fault, it's my fault, yes people, I did say it was my fault. How can that be you ask? Well so did I and the answer astonished me. Seems it is my fault that my brother is drinking himself stupid (I married an alchoholic in his formative years and took him in to live with me rather then allow him to go to Foster care) Why does he do crystal meth? Well, of course it is because I am a recovering coke addict. Why is he addicted to antipsychotic pills that were prescribed to his friend? Well, damn, don't you know, it's my fault because I was addicted to pain killers. Why is it he hasn't had a job in nearly four years? Why it was because Chris quit his job 6 weeks before we moved from Idaho. WAIT! Why did he quit school (both times) because >I< quit school (never mind that *I* did go back and get my GED on my own while he had to be nagged on every single day for months) Damn, I hadn't realized it, I have no idea how she can blame herself, everything is so obviously my fault.
He also is the epitomy of honesty. He would never cheat on his wife, go back to drugs, steal from her. No no, when he says he's clean it's the truth, he's not like me. How can I make up such things about him. How can I make up such horrible things about what was done to me as a child? Oh yeah, I remember her reason now, I had an overactive imagination. The bruises you say? Where did they come from? Oh, well, you know, I was a very delicate child, due to a blood disorder, the one that went away after I left home, I bruised at the slightest touch.
>stares<
Damn, no wonder I am so messed up. Hmm, blaming, yes, I blame them for what happened to me THEN. For not protecting me when it was there job, but guess what, now it is MY job to protect me. If I choose to surround myself with people who help me with that or not is up to me, but, in the end, it is up to me to protect myself. It is up to me to answer for the things that I do. To hold myself accountable. That is one of the reasons I write this. So that I can put down the things I do so that I can hold myself accountable for them. So I can go back and reflect and try to figure out where I went wrong so that I can avoid that from happening agian.
Damn, the world needs more people willing to be accountable. I wonder if it will ever really happen.
Friday, September 16, 2005
Don't give up on me.
I am still here. I am still struggling.
Thank you all so much for your kind words, thoughts and prayers.
It isn't just the money though. I wanted to make that clear. Matter of fact, the money is only a means to an end.
I have been poor my whole life. It is how I was born and raised, and I have done alot better for my children that was done for me.
I remember a time when we had to eat our goverment cereal with water because we couldn't afford milk. My children have never had to do that. We might not eat steaks and caviar every night, well, never caviar, yuck, but, the point is our children are well fed and it will always be that way.
You see, I'm so tired of fighting. I have had to fight all my life for things that should be basic things for most people. Food, respect, love, and safety. Now I have to fight to give those things to my children.
I do not want them to grow up telling stories about how poor we were. I want them to remember their childhood as a happy time. A time where they were loved, protected, and provided for.
Love, protection, that I can provide. For the rest of it, money is what it takes. It sucks, but, that is the bottom line of it.
If we don't have money to get the van fixed, I have no way to get to work, I lose my job, and Chris can't make it to school.
Thankfully his family has stepped up to help us out. As painful as the story is, the van is being worked on and with a little bit of luck and the touch of an angel's wing, it will run properly, or, more to the point, stop properly. They have been picking up Chris and taking him to school because his dad went on a terrible rant saying that there was no way in hell that he was going to let Chris drop his classes after all that we've done to get him where he is.
Even though things are looking up, the darkness lingers. It is part of my bi-polar and it is something that I have to struggle with for the rest of my life. I have no sex drive, hell, I don't have the drive for anything right now.
I have turned to those who have supported me in hopes of finding my way out of this. I hate this feeling. I hate the suffocation. I want to laugh again, I want to smile and stop being so paranoid.
Tonight at work, I almost walked out because my nerves were so shot, my hands were shaking and my heart was thumping in my chest. I talked to my supervisor and I told him I needed some extra breaks for the night and he told me to do what I needed to do. I went into the bathroom and cried for a long time.
Please don't give up on me. I know I've not be consistant in my posting, and what I have posted has been depressing and probably not a lot of fun to read, but, honestly, I am trying as hard as I can to get back to a better place.
Again, I want to say thank you to those who have supported me. You know who you are and my heart constricts when I think of how lucky I am to have such wonderful people in my life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you all so much for your kind words, thoughts and prayers.
It isn't just the money though. I wanted to make that clear. Matter of fact, the money is only a means to an end.
I have been poor my whole life. It is how I was born and raised, and I have done alot better for my children that was done for me.
I remember a time when we had to eat our goverment cereal with water because we couldn't afford milk. My children have never had to do that. We might not eat steaks and caviar every night, well, never caviar, yuck, but, the point is our children are well fed and it will always be that way.
You see, I'm so tired of fighting. I have had to fight all my life for things that should be basic things for most people. Food, respect, love, and safety. Now I have to fight to give those things to my children.
I do not want them to grow up telling stories about how poor we were. I want them to remember their childhood as a happy time. A time where they were loved, protected, and provided for.
Love, protection, that I can provide. For the rest of it, money is what it takes. It sucks, but, that is the bottom line of it.
If we don't have money to get the van fixed, I have no way to get to work, I lose my job, and Chris can't make it to school.
Thankfully his family has stepped up to help us out. As painful as the story is, the van is being worked on and with a little bit of luck and the touch of an angel's wing, it will run properly, or, more to the point, stop properly. They have been picking up Chris and taking him to school because his dad went on a terrible rant saying that there was no way in hell that he was going to let Chris drop his classes after all that we've done to get him where he is.
Even though things are looking up, the darkness lingers. It is part of my bi-polar and it is something that I have to struggle with for the rest of my life. I have no sex drive, hell, I don't have the drive for anything right now.
I have turned to those who have supported me in hopes of finding my way out of this. I hate this feeling. I hate the suffocation. I want to laugh again, I want to smile and stop being so paranoid.
Tonight at work, I almost walked out because my nerves were so shot, my hands were shaking and my heart was thumping in my chest. I talked to my supervisor and I told him I needed some extra breaks for the night and he told me to do what I needed to do. I went into the bathroom and cried for a long time.
Please don't give up on me. I know I've not be consistant in my posting, and what I have posted has been depressing and probably not a lot of fun to read, but, honestly, I am trying as hard as I can to get back to a better place.
Again, I want to say thank you to those who have supported me. You know who you are and my heart constricts when I think of how lucky I am to have such wonderful people in my life. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
Stench of Sorrow
No matter how hard we try, nothing seems to go right.
We recently had to borrow money from a dear friend of ours just so that we could cover bills. We had sat down and worked out plan to help us get back on track, having had one bad thing after another happen. We are totally tapped out, but things were looking up.
We had planned out taking our van in at the end of the next week to have the brakes looked out. They were recently replaced by a family member. Remind me to never fucking do that again.
I skated home on a wing and prayer tonight. Meaning, the brakes on one side went out completely. With my heart in my throat the entire way, my hands gripping the steering wheel and driving 15mph in a 45 zone I made it home.
We have no money. No way to get any more without asking another friend of ours for help. I don't want to do this because I know he will help. I am so sick of having to borrow money. I'm sick of not being able to do the mundane crap that everyone else does.
My 30th birthday was on the 6th. The 9th, was our Anniversary, and today is Chris' birthday. He doesn't even get to sleep in because we have to find a way to get me to work, not to mention how we will fix the van.
It's a never ending sucking darkness. It's been lapping at my feet for several weeks now and I'm getting too tired to fight it anymore.
I don't give a fuck. I work my ass off and we still are barely scraping by. I've worked as much overtime as I could and still, it does me no good.
I have not seen my daughter in four days because of our schedules, I see my boys only about 20 minutes a day. Oh, well, except today, when I had the pleasure of dragging my baby out of school to take him down and have his arm stabbed with sharp needles so the school would get off my back about his fucking booster shots.
It's like a suffocating darkness. It sucks you in, overwhelms you, makes you completely helpless.
I know that I'm over reacting. I know my bi-polar is kicking in. I can feel myself hovering on the edge.
I feel like the whole damn world is against me. I don't feel like I have anyone to turn to. I can't complain to Chris because he lives this shit too. I hate dragging bad shit back up when I know that none of us can do a fucking thing to stop it, or make it better.
My hands are shaking even now. I fight back the tears. My skin is tingling. I feel a crushing weight bearing down on my chest. I am afraid. Afraid I am going to fail in my role in this family. I am supposed to provide for my children, for my husband. I am not doing that.
I can't even desribe properly how it feels. As close as I can get to is, is to compare it to tar. It slowly sucks you in. You know it's going to happen. You are stuck, you can't do anything to get out. The smell of sorrow begins to overwhelm you as it begins to close over your head, filling your nose, your mouth, covering you in the fifth of depression.
I hate this fucking illness. I hate myself. I hate what I do to my family and my friends. I hate the failure I've become. I've even managed to let down the few friends I have.
There is no end in sight, why fucking bother. I feel like my children would be better of without me. I know what it was like for me growing up with a mom who was crazy. I do not want that for my children.
If Chris did half the things to me that I've done to him, I would have left him. Yet, he has always put up with me.
I hate myself.
We recently had to borrow money from a dear friend of ours just so that we could cover bills. We had sat down and worked out plan to help us get back on track, having had one bad thing after another happen. We are totally tapped out, but things were looking up.
We had planned out taking our van in at the end of the next week to have the brakes looked out. They were recently replaced by a family member. Remind me to never fucking do that again.
I skated home on a wing and prayer tonight. Meaning, the brakes on one side went out completely. With my heart in my throat the entire way, my hands gripping the steering wheel and driving 15mph in a 45 zone I made it home.
We have no money. No way to get any more without asking another friend of ours for help. I don't want to do this because I know he will help. I am so sick of having to borrow money. I'm sick of not being able to do the mundane crap that everyone else does.
My 30th birthday was on the 6th. The 9th, was our Anniversary, and today is Chris' birthday. He doesn't even get to sleep in because we have to find a way to get me to work, not to mention how we will fix the van.
It's a never ending sucking darkness. It's been lapping at my feet for several weeks now and I'm getting too tired to fight it anymore.
I don't give a fuck. I work my ass off and we still are barely scraping by. I've worked as much overtime as I could and still, it does me no good.
I have not seen my daughter in four days because of our schedules, I see my boys only about 20 minutes a day. Oh, well, except today, when I had the pleasure of dragging my baby out of school to take him down and have his arm stabbed with sharp needles so the school would get off my back about his fucking booster shots.
It's like a suffocating darkness. It sucks you in, overwhelms you, makes you completely helpless.
I know that I'm over reacting. I know my bi-polar is kicking in. I can feel myself hovering on the edge.
I feel like the whole damn world is against me. I don't feel like I have anyone to turn to. I can't complain to Chris because he lives this shit too. I hate dragging bad shit back up when I know that none of us can do a fucking thing to stop it, or make it better.
My hands are shaking even now. I fight back the tears. My skin is tingling. I feel a crushing weight bearing down on my chest. I am afraid. Afraid I am going to fail in my role in this family. I am supposed to provide for my children, for my husband. I am not doing that.
I can't even desribe properly how it feels. As close as I can get to is, is to compare it to tar. It slowly sucks you in. You know it's going to happen. You are stuck, you can't do anything to get out. The smell of sorrow begins to overwhelm you as it begins to close over your head, filling your nose, your mouth, covering you in the fifth of depression.
I hate this fucking illness. I hate myself. I hate what I do to my family and my friends. I hate the failure I've become. I've even managed to let down the few friends I have.
There is no end in sight, why fucking bother. I feel like my children would be better of without me. I know what it was like for me growing up with a mom who was crazy. I do not want that for my children.
If Chris did half the things to me that I've done to him, I would have left him. Yet, he has always put up with me.
I hate myself.
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