When, how, what, and where .

My youth was filled with consistent fear. Don’t say the wrong thing, don’t breathe the wrong way, but most of all don’t look like your dad.

Home alone so much, the truest definition of a latch key kid.

I can go to my gramps, but would he say all that stuff, it makes me so uncomfortable. I know it can’t be right.

Was anywhere safe? Was anyone safe?

At 30 years old, I said, “I’m grown now mom. You can’t stop me, I’m taking my daughter to Germany, we will live the happily ever after.”

Mom was mean,said “don’t go, you’ll regret this you know”. Mom, I know, you just want control.

It didn’t take long, until my new husband, was far from good.

“Don’t go on base alone, they will rape you.”

“Don’t leave base without me, some of the Germans, well they don’t like us, it’s safer this way”.

It got worse, him running my life. “You’ve got to have sex with me, it’s your duty as a wife.”

Was anywhere safe? Was anyone safe?

My big break came, he wants out of the army.

Promises that military life made him like this, but things, they’ll get better. Promises that he wouldn’t be so angry, that he would provide support and love.

Instead I had nothing, no vehicle, rarely money for food. Asking for help with our son, that was never good.

Then I found the list, the pros and the cons, should he be with me or this woman, Rachel is all I knew.

I kept quiet,for months, saved every single dime, I needed to file for a divorce, before he left us.

Let’s fast forward 10 years, I’m still in fear. He’s managed to take my son from me. He knows my every move. He knows what to say to dig into my heart.

Without him scaring me, well it wouldn’t make a difference.

The fear is inside me. Too many years, too many threats, I didn’t get a break.

The fear is inside me, I want the fears to go.

Days like today they have no reason, as if to stop by and say “ Hey Girl, forget about us?”

The fear is inside me but I never know, when,how, what, and where. Panicking so hard that I want to stab myself to end the pain, yet wanting to be saved.

Panicking so hard that I want to stab myself to end the pain, yet wanting to be saved.

When I do ask for help, it’s help to keep me safe from me. It’s to keep my children safe, because they don’t need to see it. It’s to keep my soul safe, just knowing that I’m not so alone anymore.

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I’ve done it.

I have finally finished my rug. It took way longer than it needed to, because I kept pushing it aside.

I couldn’t bear watching it get stepped on, so we hung it up instead.

Now on to these 2 inch hexagons that I am hand sewing. I wanted to make a quilt, but I’ve decided I’m making a meditation cushion instead. Here is all I sewn together so far.

Ive got a way to go still and hopefully I’ve made enough hexagons.

Capisce?

Do you understand yourself?

I don’t.

Thoughts so fast I can’t even process them. Like a conveyor belt, moving too quickly to see anything gone by. Sometimes I’m swift enough to grasp something rushing by. I hold it trying to figure out why it chose me, how do I use this, and what does it all mean.

Tonight, it’s life, in all capacities. So many factors I never chose, that affect me still. Happenings that I might not wrap my head around or fully understand. Memories that I can’t shake, and ones that haven’t surfaced. It all leads to the present day me. I’m undoubtedly a woman, but often a girl. A woman and a girl that I rarely understand.

When panic strikes, I’m a child with a brain that hasn’t fully developed yet. I have no control, impulse to just run, run as fast as I can. I can’t run from myself, so where am I going?

At my least anxious I ask why I’m this way. I’ve yet to see this lesson to be learned. It’s been 13 years, I’m not a slow learner. Given what I can handle? I obviously can’t handle it, so please, have mercy on me. I’m only forty one. Dammit I’m forty one! I’m wasting my life in fear, fearing something I’m not even conscious of. Apprehensive of something non-existent.

This time is going to be it, I say to myself. I’m going to get so much better, this time. I’ve heard it a million times before, rolling my eyes, at me. I’m going to eat properly, meditate, and do yoga. I can do this without leaving my house. I assure you, I’m committed, this time. Time to make my thoughts my own, not anxieties. This is it. Until I awake with the pain, physical and mental. I’ll make myself cozy on the couch. I’ll try again another day. I’ll lay in bed at night, and try to sleep. Why didn’t I push myself today, stop making excuses. Tomorrow, you’ve got this, you have it in you, just push through it.

Ugh, I don’t understand me, do you?

It’s not you, it’s me.

I have had a lot going on lately that made me really internalize and try to figure myself out.

I’m not even sure how to go about explaining this or putting it into words. I am going to try to make my feelings and thoughts a bit easier for the normals to understand. In no particular order and no clear thought process of course.

The things happening around me, even things that don’t directly have to do with me, can mentally hurt me, and hurt me more than I care to admit.

Being mean to me, because of something I’ve not done, doesn’t make me suck it up and forge ahead. It sends me into a downward spiral.

Shouting, name calling, and using me as a scapegoat, again the same downward spiral, plus the bonus of trying to figure out why I’m such an awful person that screws up everyone’s life.

Logically I know this is unreasonable, but alas, my mind spares me of logic and would rather be irrational. The joys of my head just keep shining through brighter than the sunshine.

The fun twirling slide I rush down makes simple life very difficult.

Sure I would love to walk over and see my neighbor, or invite someone to my home. nah, according to that annoying yapper with the bullhorn in my brain, I’m better off avoiding. Don’t answer the phone, don’t answer the text.

It’s easier than explaining I’m tired, sore, overwhelmed, depressed, weak, and contemplating how death would be a relief.

Don’t get all in a tizzy, I’m not suicidal. If you haven’t thought death was a good out then are you really human? The old “I hope I don’t wake up” has most likely run through your mind, or at least something similar.

I think if more people pushed me to socialize I would do better with it, or would I? I’d like to think it’s worth a shot if any of you want to come stop by and not take no as an answer. Be like “Yo, I know you are avoiding so let’s just chill at your place and have some water.” Obviously no one wants water, but you get my point.

Tell me you don’t care if the dog is barking and the kids are too loud, that I should call you or answer the phone anyway.

To better understand I’ll let you know how I feel on an okay day. I have far more bad days than okay, but I don’t know if anyone is ready to hear about one of my bad days.

I never get peace or personal space. Nope not even in the shower or bathroom. A person or an animal is ALWAYS touching me. This alone is too much for a proud introvert like myself to cope with.

Now imagine if you will, not having peace, peace in this sense meaning quiet. There is always noise, TV, talking, playing loud, and or video games and tablets making so.much.noise.

Wait though the fun doesn’t stop there. These two things are often combined which makes for one heck of a fabulous time within me. I can’t even sleep in my 3 foot bubble, it’s non existent, someone popped it and I can’t find the repair patch.

No one respects my bubble.

Now keep up, it gets better, let’s add to this bubble soup.

I am graced with a few people in my life who cannot possibly understand or believe they may actually be the one who is selfish, quick to scapegoat me, and overall be certain of the fact that they have no shortcomings, character flaws, or even a smidgen of respect for me.

This is not good for me. I’m a kind person, way too kind, even when provoked. People who know me, tell me this,so it’s not me bragging. I’m told this even when I think I’m being tough and standing my ground. I’m always trying to appease these individuals. I must be on alert to not say anything, as it will be taken as an attack. I must keep my eyes averted, because I’m a master of being able to insult someone with a glance. I have these powers, please don’t be jealous.

They say “crazy people don’t know they are crazy”. I don’t use that to insult anyone, it’s just how I’ve heard it said. Am I the one who has lost concept of reality or are those individuals?

Surely it must be me, I think to myself, while repeatedly mulling over my entire existence.

I wake up every day,with dread. Let me intervene here by stating that I don’t get to sleep like real people. I nap when my youngest naps and even then someone is bound to wake me up for something stupid as Joe sits right downstairs. He’s invisible, clearly.

Dread, because I know I’m incapable of getting through an entire day without being verbally assaulted and definitely not without constant anxiety.

Dread, because I hate myself every day, the only thing I like about me is that I’m a kind person. I can not walk up my stairs without being in pain. On most days I have no strength to push a vacuum or load the dishwasher.

My own children don’t seem to understand that I’m hurting, physically hurting, so picking up even their trash hurts. Pain that I can’t get rid of. My eldest says “Your always sick, your always tired, your always asleep” with such condemnation it takes a piece of my heart. Absolutely no regard, or maybe she doesn’t believe it?

I am sick, physically and mentally. I own up to my sickness, I try my hardest to not be sick or at the very least try and hide it.

So much dread knowing I really have no one that can help me. I don’t have a nanny or a housekeeper.

This is all stuff I have to do. I cry over this at least once a day. I sit and cry, because I’m too tired or in too much physical pain to go on.

Sometimes I cry just because Im pretty crappy at this thing called life.

That’s some of my day. This is real. This is not living. I’m broken and lonely.

Sadly I’ve made myself pretty lonely since only a few people really show that they understand and support me. It’s nice when someone lets you know they are ready when you are, or even bug you until you just do something with them. We need more people bugging others. Just watch, it’s probably a fine line between that and stalker.

As discussed this has no order, or thought process. I have bad grammar and horribly structured everything. 😒.

Maybe I should write these things out beforehand to proofread and make necessary adjustments.

Who am I kidding,I won’t do that, at least not this time. Do I even have a point? I don’t think I do so take it as it is.

When I Grow Up.

When I was a child I always envisioned myself doing something that helps others in some form. I also wanted to be a Janet Jackson back up dancer. As we can see I’ve yet to meet those goals. Okay, so I may be a backup dancer at home when no one is watching, but, still not exactly what I envisioned.

I guess overall I haven’t been a complete waste of space. I’m not sure I have any accomplishments other than raising children. That’s a pretty big one considering I kill every plant I touch.

What bothers me most is I don’t know of anyone I have truly helped. Like really helped. Not in a financial way, but in a soulful way. I don’t think I’ve touched anyone in a way that is life changing.

I did and do want to be a therapist, however a therapist that can’t leave their home or drive is probably a bit off putting. I know volunteer work brings out an energy in me that I don’t normally feel. Volunteer work isn’t very realistic when I can’t go somewhere to do so.

I love my arts, sewing, painting, and just making a mess in order to make something beautiful. That’s what really sets my soul on fire. Finding the time and energy to be creative is like a looking for a needle in a haystack. I’m usually too anxious or too tired. I have times when it’s not me at all, times when I pick up a paint brush and my children want to paint also. That just becomes more of a chore, making sure they don’t get paint all over the house or paint on each other’s papers, it’s exhausting. Ugh, plus they do that thing where you mix all the colors to make one grotesque one, then want new paint. I can’t deal with all that.

This blog has no real point, but then again a lot of what I say has no point. I saw a journal prompt that asked what you wanted to be when you grew up, and I thought I would answer that for you. It’s not like I’m trying to sleep or anything. I really should be sleeping. I am tired, but I have a man next to me that seems to be doing the jitterbug while he sleeps. I attempted to go for the couch, but then cats attacked my feet. I need my own bedroom, with tons of blankets and pillows on a nice soft bed THAT I DONT HAVE TO SHARE. I also need the Fisher Wallace Stimulator, but that’s neither here nor there.

Now that I have written some nonsense I’m going to try to sleep, again.

What is happening to me?

I’ve got a million things running through my mind at any given time. It never stops. Some things I talk about and some I don’t. I’m going to start with the ones I don’t, and well, that’s it, just the ones I don’t talk about.

I feel like my mind is getting worse. I’ve been working with this book titled “Dare” for panic attacks/ ending panic attacks. I’ve read it for maybe a year or more now. Just reading it and rereading it. Not being able to really grasp the concept. Not being able to be “Okay” with the panic sensations.

Here is where things take a bad turn. Lately I feel those sensations so much more on a daily basis than I am willing to tell anyone. I’ve got two people I know would drop everything to help me as in come to my aid when I really lose my mind. That being said two is not a lot, that puts a massive burden on those two people. In my mind this is horrible, I don’t want these people to view me as the burden I am. My solution to this has been to take my meds. The meds that I am supposed to use if I have a panic attack. I am taking them before the panic hits, just trying to be a person who can get through a day like an adult should be able to. I am so completely overwhelmed with thoughts, I just don’t know what else to do. I have no one to run to me aside from those two people. It’s my only way to not bother them or be completely alone if I happen to have a full blown panic attack.

Every day I am just making it through. I’m so lost with my 3 year old. He is such a hard headed child, smart, curious, and bold. Most days I am broken down by him. I can’t leave his sight. He’s constantly busy. He is getting naughty, like kicking, throwing, screaming, more and more daily it seems. Probably, because he feels the panicked vibes I throw off. Nonetheless I at times can’t handle the situation as I should, as in correcting his behaviors. I am too worn down and I just go on with my day.

I’m also really finding it difficult to have my step son here now that he lives with us. It’s nothing he is doing though, it’s me. It makes my heart ache that he’s here and my eldest son is not. I’m doing all the mother things for him, and not my son. I don’t mind doing them, that’s not the issue. Its just something inside me points out that I don’t have my son at home. I just want my son home, and that cuts my soul more and more by the hour.

So that’s that. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I’m feeling like I’m more and more alone. To make up for it, I’m taking pills. I used to take one, maybe once a month. Now I am taking at least two a day. I’m just getting worse. I just don’t want to feel so panicked and alone anymore.

Unsaid

I am lonely, surrounded by my children and fiance. Yet I feel alone.

I don’t like ‘living’ the way I do. Yet I’m terrified of dying.

I feel awkward and unlikeable. Yet I’m interested in people.

I can’t visit anyone that lives further than three minutes away. Yet I wish people would visit me.

I have had a rough week, mentally. I know blah blah, every week is rough, but this one more so. I’m having a really hard time knowing that this is my life. This is it, I haven’t had a visitor aside from Jamie, Bernadette, and Beverly and Joe’s family in years. They are the only people who seem to really take an interest in me, and how I am doing.

I get more bothered by this sort of thing around Birthdays and Holidays (Ethan will be 3 on the 2nd 😁) . You see, I’ve invited people to parties in the past. They don’t show up, no reason given, they just don’t show. I’m grateful that Joe’s family understands, I may never visit them, but they visit us. They even come at the last minute, because I suck at sending texts and Facebook invites. My children don’t know my side of the family though. They don’t know Aunt’s, Uncle’s, cousins, not my maternal or paternal side. Hell, I don’t even know them any more. Perhaps it’s due to busy lives, or perhaps it’s due to the fact that I can’t reciprocate a visit. Maybe they think they will catch a mental disorder. I’m not sure. All I know is it hurts my children when someone is invited over, and then they don’t show. I know that hurt, as I take that hurt for them as well. It’s an awful feeling to have to tell your child why someone didn’t come. Especially when they are repeat offenders. I always save face, say there was an emergency, or they had to work. Something of that nature. I think it upsets me more, because they have nothing stopping them. I just can’t do it, my brain does not allow it.

I’m tired of living this way, tired in the sense that I don’t want to ‘live’ like this.

I think about

how lives would be easier if I wasn’t here to be a burden,

how I don’t deserve to ‘live’, because I’m not living,

why the hell am I here,

why am I so incapable of living my life,

why can’t I be a good mother and enjoy even an hour at the playground with my children,

why can’t I get some groceries without a chaperone

why can’t I go visit my friends or family

why can’t I keep my house tidy all the time

why do I bug out and retreat from things

I really don’t see a purpose. I can’t even maintain a relationship with a therapist. One thought they helped all they could and I was no longer showing progress. The next, bad scheduling and not thinking times through on my part partially the issue, and I started to become terrified to drive there. Even though I’ve driven there before.

I don’t want to die,I’m not suicidal. I don’t want to die, ever, I basically want to be immortal so I can meet my childrens, childrens, children, and so forth.

I’m just not ‘happy’ living this way. I haven’t been since I became like this. Every day is more of a struggle to find some silver lining. I just want to be well and I honestly don’t feel like I will be, ever. At least not until amygdala transplants are a thing. Yes, medication people say, but I say no. They all destroy the human body and mind faster than being panicked. I use meds to go get my son and yes, I may be giddy and delightful ( annoying) for an hour or so. Then I crash, I sleep an entire day after a dose of that poisoning. Even worse, my body and mind feel it for weeks, months, and years after. It causes permanent damage that I am not willing to cause any more than I have to in order to see my son.

I’m trying to get my shit together otherwise. I’ve thrown so much away this weekend that I have no idea how we are going to get rid of it. The sanitation workers only take a limited number of bags, and I have exceeded that. I am also writing down Birthdays, and addresses. I am going to try and be a person who at least sends a card for important days, since I probably won’t see anyone anytime soon. I learned a lesson since this is the 2nd time I am writing every thing down. I will not leave my book laying on the table where a bunch of crazy ass cats will dump my drink on it. It was a sticky ink running mess.

Until next time.