Okay

I’m confused.  I’m torn.  I’m trying.  I’m failing.

My girl moved out (again), yesterday.  She was home for 6 days.  She caused disruption, angst, turmoil, and a flood of emotions I can’t begin to describe.  I say she caused it.  That makes me feel guilty.  Did she cause it or did her disorder cause it?  Or is it both? How do I separate that?  How do I separate her from her disorder?  Can I separate it?  As much as I tell her that she can’t let her disorder define her; I feel like that is what I am doing.  

When I think of my girl, the first thing I think of, and feel is chaos.  I no longer think of my little pink princess.  I hate that.  

How do I know when I have done enough for her?  I don’t think I have.  Should I be making appointments for her to psychiatrists and therapists? Should I be picking her up, taking her to appointments, watching her walk inside, waiting in the parking lot until she is finished and then take her back to him?  Should I take her to another state?  Will distance help?  Should I stop working to care for her?  How far do I go?  How much is enough?

I feel myself breaking a bit more each day.  I get annoyed at things I wouldn’t have a year ago.  I don’t like it.  I drink too much, and I eat too much.  Why am I so weak?  Why can’t I get a grip and control both?  I need to feel in control of something.  With everything else that is happening around me, why do I sabotage myself by doing things that I know are not healthy for me?  Yes, the drinking makes me forget for a bit; makes me fake happy, makes it easier to pretend I’m okay.  The food is my comfort, as fucked up as that is.  

I’m not okay.  

I AM NOT OKAY, but my girl is worse.

Here we go, again

Even though I knew it would happen, I didn’t think it would be so soon.  My girl is home, at least for now.  She moved out March 9th.  She called me crying and screaming on March 23rd.  He had her cornered in the bathroom.  She was sitting with her back against the tub, feet on the door, trying to hold the door shut.  She begged me to get the phone that was once on my plan activated so she could let the phone he “bought” her at the apartment. I did.  I must give a shout out to Verizon for their quick work and dealing with a frantic mom.  Anyway, he eventually left to go to work.  I stayed on the phone with her, she was packing her things, loading her car and coming home.  When I felt she was stable enough I hung up with her (since I was at work), and we communicated through messages.  I would check in, she told me she was getting things together.  At one point I asked what was happening and she told me there was just a shooting right outside the apartment, at a high school across the street and there were officers everywhere, the school was being evacuated, etc.  I checked the local news and sure enough, a 17-year-old was shot dead in a park next to the high school.  She used this as an excuse not to be able to leave.  I checked in with her again, now she told me she talked to him on the phone and how it was all just a miscommunication on her part, and they were communicating really well now, and he was finally understanding what her thoughts were and how she feels, blah, blah, blah.  So, she did not leave.  

On March 24th, me and my husband left for Florida for a family party.  She did not go.  I do not have to explain why.  But I was scared shitless that while we were away something would happen.  I chatted with her a few times, and she seemed okay.

We returned the evening of March 28th.  On March 29th it was back to work.  I received a call from her at 8:01 AM.  She was crying, screaming, and yelling.  I heard him in the background screaming at her.  She was begging me to help her, to call someone in the family to come and help her get her stuff and get out.  While she was on the phone, I called my middle son and asked if he could go to her.  He said yes.  I called my husband and told him to get on the road and get to her, which he did.  Both asked if they should stop and get their handguns.  I said no.  Although, drippy dick is known to carry illegally (shocking).  I stayed on the phone with her, he eventually went outside, and she was able to get to her car and leave, without any of her things, including her cat.  I told her to stop using the phone that was on his plan, the same phone he was screaming at her for using and he was threatening to call the cops and have her arrested for theft.  I told her to let him call the cops.  (He has multiple charges that he hasn’t responded to, which means he has active warrants.  But I did not tell her that.) I had her drive to a public place and told her to wait there for her brother and dad. I hung up with her. She called back a few minutes later the “old” phone and told me that she drove back to the apartment, reset the phone he “bought” her, and she threw it in the back yard. All this was apparently witnessed by drippy’s Uncle who lives in the same house, different apartment. That was the first I heard about that. 

So, her rescuers get there. They all drive to the apartment and get everything possible loaded into the three cars and drive her home. The home that now has her room cleaned out. No carpet because it was destroyed by her.  No bed because she took the bedframe and box spring when she moved in with drippy.  No dresser because she took that as well.  We had started to redo a room for our grandkids and were using her old room to store things.  

I get home from work, call an order in for food and leave to go pick up food and get groceries since we were away and needed the basics.  Got home, ate, put groceries away and started moving shit around to make room for an air mattress, her cat, the cat box and all her shit that had been taken out of the house.  I now have her clothing hampers all over my downstairs because there isn’t any place to put it.  

I tried talking to her briefly about drippy and the situation, however she stopped me very abruptly and got nasty.  I stopped.  I knew if I started on her, I would not be able to control what I said.  

This morning, me and the hubby get up as usual to go to work.  After being at work for a few hours I sent her a message and asked how she was.  She said OKAY.  I asked if she talked to him and she said yes, they messaged on Snap Chat.  He told her that he slept in his car at his mom’s house because the apartment was so empty without her and her stuff.  Really, dickhead?  I told her it was yet another one of his games.  She didn’t say much to that.  

My prediction is she will go back to him.  We will then need to decide what we are willing to live with.  We cannot keep living like this.  Do we kick her out completely?  Tell her if she goes back, we will not be able to rescue her again?  Tell her we will rescue her, but she has to find somewhere else to live?  What is right?  What is kinda right?  She needs fucking help.  So fucking bad.  She would not agree to committing herself to give her mind and body a break.  She is thin, too thin.  Is there more happening than we know?  Probably.  It scares me.  She scares me.  He scares me.  Together they are toxic.

Here we are, again. No closer to having answers or helping our daughter.

Let me be your light

On the days when you feel sad and unhappy with the world

Let me be your light

On the days when your best just doesn’t feel good enough

Let me be your light

On the days when you don’t want to get out of bed 

Let me be your light

On the days when you question everything

Let me be your light

On the days when you feel like giving up

Let me be your light

On the days when you seek comfort in the darkness

Let me be your light

Let my light guide you back to me, back to love

Let my light help you find your way home

Let my light be your beacon

International Women’s Day

I had no idea it was International Women’s Day.  I had no idea there was an International Women’s Day.    My first failure as a woman.  Not my only failure and certainly not my last failure.  

How should I feel on IWD?  Empowered?  Uplifted?  Kick ass?  Take on the world?  I don’t feel any of those things.  And that’s no one’s fault except my own.  I TOTALLY own that.  I actually feel similar to that of a beached whale.  Bloated, sloshy, swollen, poke me with a stick and I will ooze grossness.  Others are staring at me, seeing what I’m feeling; I know they are.  Like the little old lady in Sixteen Candles; making squishing noises as I walk.  

I completely do it to myself.  I talk to myself all the time.  Make the right choices.  I know what the right choices are.  I don’t always make bad choices, but we always focus on the negative, right?  I ate a small bag of Goldfish.  I shall now perish in the flames of hell and feel like a fat cow the rest of the day.  But I promise myself to do better tomorrow.  But why should I do better tomorrow if I already failed today.  I know I’m just going to fail again tomorrow.  Might as well just say fuck it now and roll in a tub of Crisco and order some muumuu dresses right now for the upcoming spring and summer.  No reason to try to change, nothing ever changes anyway.  

I want to say nice things to myself.  I try to.  I fail at that, too.  I don’t have those tools in my toolbox.  I love helping others feel good about themselves and try to raise others up.  That makes me feel good.  Knowing I might have helped brighten someone’s day, even for just a brief second.  Why can’t I do that for me?  Wait!  I know this one!  Because I hate myself and I know I’m not worth it.  It takes much more time and effort to be happy and positive. 

I want to feel empowered; I need to feel empowered.  I want to feel uplifted; I need to feel uplifted.  I want to feel kick ass; I need to feel kick ass.  I want to take on the world; I need to take on the world.  So why the fuck do I let my size dictate that?  GODDAMN IT.  

Can I make the necessary changes as I am about the enter my 52nd year in this world? I can, but will I? Can I make me a priority? I can, but will I? I must at least try. I need to make a promise to myself to try.

Just one of those days, again

Some days I think I have my shit together and under control. And then there are days like today, where my shit is all over the place. Thoughts and feeling whirling around my brain like the twister in The Wizard of Oz. Images of important people in my world swirling around my brain evoking emotion after emotion. I can feel the turbulence in my chest. The pressure and force of the feelings is tremendous. I wish I had a magic pill to make it all go away, to make it all okay again. I don’t even need it to all be perfect, just to be okay.

I took a little me time a few weeks ago. I still can’t believe I had the balls to do it, but I did. I left my home and all the cozy comfort it brings me. I was fortunate to have a place to go and feel safe in. Why did I do it? To think, to feel, to cry, to scream. Did it work? I don’t think it did. I have been questioning my marriage and relationship with my husband. I can’t say exactly how long, but long enough. In the past I have tried to explain my feelings to him. I know I already wrote about that.

Communication. Communication is something I need desperately. Any major decision that needed to be made over the last 29 years of our marriage has been made by me. Why? Because there was no discussion. I would ask a question and get an answer of I don’t know. So I just made the decision I felt was best. Now that we are out of the kid stage, now that our lives have calmed down and there is more time to think and talk and make decisions I still get the answer I don’t know. And it makes me crazy. So, I left home the day after my birthday. I sent my husband an email from work telling him I wouldn’t be home that night and where I would be. He knew me leaving was a possibility from previous conversations. Yes, I sent him an email. I have also sent him text messages trying to explain how I feel and why. I do this because it gives him time to process, which I think he needs, but also so I don’t sit across from him staring at him waiting for an answer that never comes. That is the absolute worst.

I went to my safe place on a Monday evening after work. It was hard, incredibly hard. What was I expecting to happen? I don’t know. Isn’t that fucking ironic? What was my hope? That he would call me, text me, come to me (because he knew where I was) – anything to show me he cared and wanted me and that I mattered. I wanted him to fight for me, damnit. Why doesn’t he want to fight for me? Is it just assumed I will always be there, no matter what?

Monday night, I received nothing from him. Tuesday morning, I received nothing from him. Tuesday afternoon, I received nothing from him. Tuesday evening, I received nothing from him. Tuesday night, I was a puddle of tears and I broke. I called him and hung up. He called me back. Hearing his voice was a knife to the heart. Thinking back, I really don’t remember what was said. I was an emotional wreck. But we decided he would come to me Wednesday evening and we would talk.

He came to me. It was painful seeing him. The emotions, memories, feelings. It was overwhelming for me. We decided to go to dinner and have a kind of neutral place to talk. The drive was……..awkward in a sense. I asked a few question, but mostly surface stuff. We got to the restaurant, sat and ate. We talked, I guess. I asked him if he thought we would make it and if he wanted to make it work. He said he did. What else did we talk about? I’m not sure. I don’t think we really did. I think I thought it was more than it really was. We went back to where I was staying. He came in with me. We sat on my bed. I stared at him. I saw love in his eyes. I wanted him to hold me and stay with me. I think we talked, didn’t we? Did I do it again? Did I just let things slip back to the old ways? He didn’t stay. He honestly couldn’t, I knew that. Three dogs at home to take care of and all the other home responsibilities. I just wanted that to be the time he fought for me.

I went home Thursday evening after work. It was strange and weird. Do you go back to the old routines? Do you act like everything is suddenly okay? I think that is what I did. Why? I guess because it’s easy. Does he truly want me or is it the convenience of having someone take care of everything? Has our relationship become a convenience? Were we so busy during those early years of marriage, buying a house, having kids, raising kids, dealing with kid issues, working to pay the bills, that something just faded between us? I don’t know.

Does anyone else play the what if game? What if there is a person out there that would fight for me? What if there is a person out there that would sit down and talk to me? Would someone else find me valuable and beautiful and special? Do we love each other, but aren’t really in love with each other anymore? Does he deserve/want more than I can offer him? Do I deserve/want more than he can offer me? What if we separated or divorced? What does that look like? What happens then? Can I be alone? Can he be alone? How will I feel if he finds someone else? How will he feel if I find someone else? Is it time to find someone else? He knows all my scars and what they are from. Will someone new overlook all my flaws? What about my love handles? What will they think when they feel or see them? What does he think when he sees or feels them? What happens to the house I love; the house that we created together? What happens to the unfinished projects that we are both excited about? What happens to the stuff in the house? What happens to our kids and grandkids? What if he becomes a drunk? What if he doesn’t stay in contact with the kids and grandkids? What happens when there is a holiday or a birthday party? He has no one else. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? What does starting over look like? Why is my heart racing right now? Where do I go from here? How do I know what is right?

I found myself staring at him many times over the weekend. What is happening in his mind? What is he thinking?

To top things off, I also received an incredible job offer. After three or four years of applying and interviewing, I received an offer. It terrifies me. As of June 19, 2021, I will complete 32 years at my current job (please remember I started at the ripe old age of 19). I am 51 and seriously considering switching jobs. Am I fucking insane? Is the universe trying to tell me it’s time for a change? How will I make the right decision? Will I make the right decision? Do I want the stress of a new job? Do I want to feel like I am valuable again or stay where I am comfortable and just a convenience to those around me? Why do I feel like I am being pushed out the door in my current position? Is money and leave time all that matter at this point in my life?

Fuck. It’s just one of those days………………..

Tired

I am tired

I am tired of fighting for happiness

I am tired of fighting for love

I am tired of feeling useless

I am tired of feeling worthless

I am tired of giving my all to others

I am tired of playing pretend

I am tired; mind, body and soul

I am tired of feeling out of control

I am tired of my spinning world

I am tired of living the lies every day

I am just tired