Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Silver Linings

Some days are sunnier than others. I remember how to breathe and dress myself and even smile. Some days.  Some days are darker, and I can't find the silver lining even if it's trying to strangle me for my stubbornness.  I am all alone.  I am not alone.   I am angry, and hurt and healing.  I am single, but taken.  I am me.
I've been bawling about being homeless for the last few weeks, and while it's true that I don't have my own home, I'm not homeless.  M says we are "Ownless".  We have a home, we just don't have one of our own.  Big difference, and IF I can start seeing the differences, I can start the long uphill climb.
Eric is surviving in that place that he shouldn't be in.  I still shy away in saner moments of saying where he is.  Jail.  Jail, Jail.  nope, repeating it doesn't help.  But there he sits. He has been able to get out and do community service, which means that instead of working his butt off for any living, he's doing it simply to be doing it.  He worries about supporting us, but for now, that's my responsibility. That thought scares the crap outta me.
My sister reminded me that while I've lived alone before, and supported my kids, I haven't had to after being beaten down so badly.  I know that I can find the strength, and as soon as I allow my self to heal from the torture my soul has endured, I'll be okay. I needed to hear that. I feel so weak, I feel like I should be standing on my own two feet taking care of business. But right now, I can't.  She helped me realize something, that just like a physical beating that has to heal before you function normally again, I've taking an emotional and spiritual beating the likes of which all most killed me.  I need to heal.
 The Lord knew this and sent the angels into my life I needed the most.  I will never be able to thank Jon and Tina enough.  They have given me the care and love and safety that I need while I learn to heal.  And I have to learn to heal.  I don't know how to not be in charge of every aspect of life.  It's always been my job, what I do.  I've been so broken that I'm not strong enough to do it right now. That's okay right?  To admit that?  To acknowledge that I'm broken, and not ready to be the adult in charge right now?  I think so, I think that's some of me learning how to heal.  It would be easier on me if I had only been physically beaten within an inch of my life.  It hurts when you use bones that haven't healed or stretch skin still mending.  The pain tells you, "hey stupid, you can't do that yet" and you stop.  Emotional and spiritual wounds are harder to accept, and let heal before you try flexing.  It's harder to accept that your mind needs time to heal and recover, to be able to adult again.
I'll have my good days, and they will be more than the bad.  I will make the strides to heal and be the strong person people keep accusing me of being.  But it will take time, and today, I can see that.  Tomorrow who knows.  I have angels hiding as friends that keep reminding me that it's okay to take time to heal.  That I don't have to know where I'm going yet, because right now, I'm home.  And for now, I know that that is the Lord's hand in this.  His angels on earth helping my family until I can take over.  So for today, I will start to heal, and quit doing things that make that process harder.

Wednesday, April 6, 2016

if

I see the pictures and quotes all over Facebook asking "if I die tomorrow what would you remember about me?" and as self serving and attention seeking as they are, it makes you wonder.  If I simply ceased to exist, or if I had never existed, would it really be so bad?  Now stay with me here, I'm fighting some major depression and anxiety, but I have enough sense to know the damage me ending my life would would instill in my babies, so simmer down.  But really, would the world be better off without my presence in it?
I inflicted my older daughters into this world.  I raised them and tried to teach them right from wrong and look where that got me,  I'm ashamed of them, so much that I cringe when people ask how the are.  I'm ashamed to be their mother, and call them mine.  I'm ashamed.  And for that, I'm a terrible person, I get that. I really do.  I tell my self that a thousand times an hour.
I've become a burden, a waste of space, a parasite living off a host, though that host is a pretty amazing person and family.  I don't interact with the world correctly, and even talking to my husband is challenging because if I say how messed up it is he's in there, then it reflects on him, that he isn't compliment with sex offender classes by not being properly sorry about what he did.  How messed up is that?  He shouldn't be there.  The end.  He did nothing, but I better not say that or the judge may take my little ones away because their daddy is a threat.  It simply pisses me off.  If I had money, I could find justice for my sweet spouse.  I don't, so he sits in jail, worried sick about how he is going to provide for his family in a future that is to scary to look into.
And the best part is???  I'm not supposed to feel this way.  I need to put on my big girl panties and deal with it.  Life's hard, quit bitching and do what needs to be done.  You know what?  Today, I CAN'T.  Judge away, I do it to myself in my head all the time.  I am the cause of all the pain in my family.  If I had been a better mother, if I had gotten K help as hard as I was trying to get E help, if Eric had never met me, and on and on.  It's never ending, and for a while, my mask can hold it in so that socially, I'm doing the acceptable, strong thing and getting on with it.  Inside is such another matter.
I am not this strong, amazing person people keep telling me that I am.  I am broken, and lost and hurt and shouting and mad and crazy and so very messed up.  I have no idea what I'm doing.  Most of the time, I can't remember to breath.  I write it out because if I keep letting it run wild, it truly will kill me.  I can't even find the words for a small fraction of what I need to put down to paper and get out of my head.  What I can find words for seems so shallow and weak.  I want to shout to the world, yet I don't want to go outside.  Outside has become a terrifying place, a place bent on destroying my family and stealing my children and husband.  But none of that came from outside now did it?  It came from me.  So we are back to my original mind wander, if I were to die tomorrow, would the world be a better place?   Would I then cease to unleash my brand of horror on the rest of an unsuspecting planet?
Just for today, and let us be honest, most likely a while longer, I simply give up.  My strength is gone, I've worn my mask until it no longer hides what I need it to.  My pain and anger are leaking through to often now.  My rock is missing, the glue holding the messy bits is gone.  So I'll lay my anger and pain and sorrow and fear and whatever else ugly I have at the Master's feet, and hope for just  a moment, He will lift my burdens and ease my soul.  I know he hasn't left me, but someday the pain is so strong, it's hard to remember.