It’ll never happen

I talked to my mom on the phone last night, and it finally struck home to me.

I will never have her support for the traumas I’ve been through in my life.

We were talking about a friend of mine who moved back to Florida, & when she asked where she lives, I told her.

Mom: “Oh, that’s the same city *he’s* (my male sibling) lived in.”

Me: Yeah, mom, I know.

“And btw, the girls (his daughters, my nieces) are coming up to visit this summer. I need to get in touch with Youngerdaughter to see if she wants to schedule her time home to coincide, so she can see them”.

Me: It would be nice, I don’t get to have any contact with them.

My sibling made a big deal of telling me years ago that he had the passwords & logins for his wife’s social media, as well as his daughters, so I believe he would not just watch if I tried to interact with them, but actively block contact or attack me through their pages.

You can think me paranoid if you want, but he’s attacked me verbally & emotionally so many times I have blocked every attempt he’s made to contact me. He is toxic in my life, & I won’t put up with his abuse.

Mom: “Oh, honey, he’s changed.”

Me: Not enough to say he’s sorry for what he’s done & said. Last time, Mom, he said “I’m sorry if you felt hurt, but sometimes you’re just too sensitive.” He didn’t say he was sorry for hurting me, he put the blame for my trauma back on me, then told me that I was “too sensitive”.

BEING SENSITIVE TO PAIN IS A TRAUMA RESPONSE.

Me: Mom, he has never apologized for what he said, or for what he’s done, he’s always just “I’ve grown up, & want to move past this”

Me: Translation – I’m tired of being called out for the real harm I caused, & want everyone to sweep it under the rug, because it doesn’t fit my “benevolent Christian man, husband & father” persona.

Mom: “Did I tell you my dog hurt her paw? She won’t let anyone anywhere near it.”

After about 10 more minutes of basic, surface conversation, I told her I love her, & hung up.

Avoidance, thy name is Mom.

Same thing happens whenever I bring up anything regarding the sexual assault I suffered from my best friend’s brother when I was 16. Her best friend is this (now man’s) mother. Every time she comes to visit, my mom wants me to see her, & they end up, somehow, working his name into the conversation, which sends me into a PTSD- induced panic attack.

Mom once: “Its been XX years. You should move past this. Let it go.”

I was never believed, not by anyone from either of our families. I was never allowed to talk about it, except when my parents tried to send me to a Christian counselor, & then told him that I thought I was molested. Not that it had actually happened, but that I thought it did.

I love both my parents. And I’m lucky to still have them in my life.

But, that hurts.

It hurts to know that my pain will never be valid in their eyes.

That they don’t believe that one instance even happened, but that I made it up or dreamt it.

And that they don’t remember reading the actual email my sibling sent me that ripped our family apart.

“My little sister died years ago. I don’t know you.”

Oh, fucker, you don’t know how right you are.

She died at 16, when a boy she trusted sexually assaulted her, and no one believed her.

She died at 17, when her parents sent her to a counselor & told him they thought she was delusional.

She died again at 19, when she was raped in college, and didn’t feel as though she could tell her parents, because why would they believe her now, when they didn’t before?

She died AGAIN, when at 20, they accused her of being on drugs, and forced her to get tested, when she’d never taken drugs in her life.

And she dies again, and again, and again, when they excuse her abusers for hurting her.

I still love my parents.

Don’t forget that.

But, loving them, does not make what they say & do, right.

My parents have always been the “turn the other cheek” people.

I can’t. I won’t. I will NOT give you another chance to hurt me, after being repeatedly struck on one side.

I still love my parents.

They’re good people.

But, the pain is real, when I know I’ll never have their unconditional love & support.

It’ll never happen.

Entropy

~things fall apart ~ the center does not hold~

I can feel the edges crumbling, the particles of my balance slipping into the cracks at my feet.

Everything hurts, & I can’t afford anymore doctor bills.

My RA is flaring in places it hasn’t been before. Or maybe it’s not RA, but the beginnings of fibromyalgia, the same as my mother has, mingling it’s chaos with the rheumatoid I already know, and that has been diagnosed.

*sigh*

Who the fuck knows.

And, since I can’t afford more medical expenses, I can’t get anyone to believe me.

Fuck invisible illnesses.

The anxiety & depression are only worsening, as my chronic pain settles even further into my system, denying me rest, denying me decent sleep.

All of which, are causing migraines, as the stress of it all builds.

It’s spiraling, & I can’t ask for help.

I’ve tried explaining, tried telling family that things are sliding Sideways.

But, it’s just not a priority.

They don’t hear me.

They don’t understand, that the smaller pieces I’m telling them, are tests.

And no, fuck, it’s not fair to test my loved ones, but in the state my brain is right now, I can’t bring myself to let it all go.

Because, if they don’t hear the little pieces… The times I continually say “It’s really hard trying to do this on my own”…

If I keep getting blown off…

Why say any more?

It doesn’t make a difference.

There is no help out there.

I have to do it all.

And I’m alone.

I’m always alone.

In the end…

Entropy always wins.

AU

I imagine there’s an alternate universe where I became a horse trainer, & lived alone on a farm with all my animals.

I imagine there’s an alternate universe where I died from suicide at the ripe young age of 16, because – emotional trauma.

I imagine there’s one where I became a published author, famous or not, I finally finished writing a damn book & sent it toddling out into the world, instead of having children.

I imagine there’s one in which I actually finished college, and became a psychologist, only to realize I got too depressed over my own problems to help anyone else effectively.

I imagine there’s one where I stayed with my love of acting, even with crippling stage fright, & became a bit actress, only to become a diet-pill junkie, who died from complications due to extreme yoyo diets & depression.

I imagine there’s one where I became a famous horror writer.

I imagine there’s an alternate universe in which I have more friends than I know what to do with, because I can be so extroverted with the emotion switch “on”, and a complete recluse, with the switch “off.

I imagine there’s one, where I retreated into the woods to become the swamp witch of my dreams, leaving everything behind to live off-grid, because I had no one left, after pushing everyone I knew away due to emotional issues telling me I’m not worth loving, which is why everyone leaves, refuses to commit, or plays on my heart strings until I collapse & lose my shit, running screaming into the void.

I imagine that there’s an alternate universe in which I am living a happy life, with someone I love, who loves me back.

Wild imagination.

Silent Sunday 3/15/2020

– _ –

In 20 years, I’ve never said these words out loud about *this* subject.

I don’t care anymore.

I’ve been struggling for over a year, now. I fell into the deepest depression of my life for over 12 months, and no one noticed.

No one cared that I pulled away, that I chose isolation over socialization. That I chose silence instead of community. No one cared to try to talk to me about it, or to help at all.

(None of this refers to my Nephew, or my children).

I’ve been having a really difficult time since I had to stop taking the antidepressant. My moods are all over the map, no matter what I try to balance. I swing wildly between crushing grief & borderline rage, all the while, flailing chaotically with a happy-faced smiling mask, trying to distract the masses.

Trying desperately to NOT break down into tears at my desk.

I’ve been patronized & ridiculed for my mental illness, told “You should do –*this thing* — and you’ll be Totally healed. If you don’t do this, you obviously don’t want to cure your anxiety, depression, migraines, etc.” #theyknowallthesecrets #becausetheysayso

As though I’ve never done any research into the medical issues I have. Who, ME? No, I don’t do research….. *oozing sarcasm*

As though mental illnesses that are exacerbated by a chemical imbalance can EVER BE CURED COMPLETELY.

I’m so fucking done. I feel like tossing all of my social media platforms (barring WordPress and tiktok) onto the ground before me, dousing it in mental gasoline, & burning those fucking bridges to ash.

I am quickly reaching endgame.

That point where, when you have nothing left to lose, you throw every-fucking-thing to the wind in a last second Hail Mary pass.

When the unknown is preferable to what you can see in front of you, it’s time to light that match, cross that bridge, & toss the flame behind you.

I’m done sitting down for others to try to walk over me.

I’m making plans, & cleaning house.

The silence only gets deeper from here.

• 

• 

• 

Sharp Corners

The glass is shattered. Red droplets splash over the fragments, painting pain.

Overwhelmed, the sharp corners cut.

And when the only solace is found in the music and the darkness…

That’s where you go.

My Floor is Lava

My emotions are all over the place right now.

Ever since my ER visit, & subsequent withdrawal from my latest med, I’m a sobbing hot mess, who can’t seem to figure out if I’m ok, or if my floor is lava.

So, I had a visit with my regular doc today, & I was hoping she could put me on a different med.

Instead, she told me that, because we’re having difficulty finding a med that works for me now…she’s referring me to the psychiatric clinic.

Now, back up a little.

I’ve been on anti-anxiety meds since 2008. Yes, it took a couple of trial-and-errors to find one that worked for me, but then I was on that one for about 12 years, with almost NO side effects.

Then, in October of 2018, I hit a depression so deep, I lay at the bottom of it for a whole year.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for my kids, my Best friend/Nephew, & my parents, I had 3 severe times that winter, where I would have “taken too many”, and just ended it.

I waited through the nice months of 2019. Normally the return of sun, warmth, & natural Vitamin D, can drag me from the seasonal depression.

But, it didn’t happen.

I finally told my doc when it was time for my annual physical (because I couldn’t raise any “give a fucks” to call sooner). I needed an antidepressant.

This was at the middle of December? maybe? Time gets weird when your brain is not balanced right. It’s slippy, & stretchy.

After a couple of weeks, my depression started to peel away like a bad sunburn.

Cue the side effects.

Then the ER visit capper.

Annnnnnd, here we are today.

My LOGIC says that my doc is right, & that a referral is probably the best thing. She’s not a psychiatric specialist, even though she does see a lot of depression/anxiety patients.

My INTELLECT tells me that this is fine, right & good.

My EMOTIONS, colored by the liars and thieves of anxiety and depression, tell me that my doctor has now washed her hands of this nutjob hot mess, who’s making shit up for attention.

And, since the doc told me that she’ll send my referral in, THEN the new clinic will contact me to schedule an appointment…

My lying emotions are now sobbing that they’ll never call, because my doc is just brushing me off, & I’m on my own on this from now on.

Logically, I know better.

Emotionally, the fucking floor is lava, & I’m going to burn.

And I’m having trouble even contacting my Trusteds, because I don’t want to lay this mess in their laps.

I know each of them would slap me on the back of the head & tell me that’s what they’re there for, & to stop fucking around & call them…

Again Cool Logic/vs/Emotional lava.

I just can’t right now.

I can smile, but it still burns.

Some of it works out…Some of it just pisses me off.

All my tests (EKGs, blood test, & Chest Xrays) came back normal. This is the good news.

Figured y’all would want that up front.

So, my symptoms on Tuesday, really were just side effects of one of my medications. And yes, I have an appointment with my primary to switch my scrip.

But…it’s been a long damn week. And there’s been some stuff that’s happened that just -flat out – pissed me the hell off.

So, I’m not talking about it here yet.

I know me.

If I give even an inch of my rant over here…it’ll be verbal diarrhea, & I’ll end up being the one with the regrets.

If I keep shut for a little longer…work on it in my head, talk it over with my Trusteds – then when I AM ready to spill, it will be tea, not gasoline.

I’ll leave you with a quote I found in a book I’m re-reading:

Question everything. Learn something. Answer nothing. ~Euripides

Beautiful Creatures -by Margaret Stohl & Kami Garcia

Uncle Jeff

My Uncle Jeff passed away last night.

His son, my cousin Cody, passed away August 1st.

Once again, I will not be able to go to the funeral, because it’s 13 hours away. Also, my ElderDaughter & her family are coming this weekend to visit.

My head is a mess.

I’m glad I’ll get to see my grandbabies, EldestDaughter, her husband “Moose”, & her friend who’s traveling with them.

But my heart is also in shreds, after losing yet another family member to cancer. Father and son, both gone within weeks of each other.

“At least he’s not suffering anymore”…they say

My head knows this is true.

My heart just wants to stop the pain.

My mom couldn’t even call me to tell me today, she texted me the news.

He was her baby brother.

My thoughts are so random and disjointed.

And I still have to clean house before the kids get here tomorrow night.

It doesn’t help that my water heater started leaking on Sunday, so I had to have a new one installed yesterday.

Another expense I can’t really afford…

Which just means that even if the kids weren’t coming this weekend, I still wouldn’t have been able to go to Iowa for the funeral.

I just can’t deal right now.

And yet, here I sit, again, trying to get through another pain-filled night by myself. I just really need someone to fucking hug me & tell me it will get better.

Just for a minute.

I want someone to comfort me, instead of always having to try to get through it alone.

I miss my family, but there’s no way to fix it.

I wish I could be there for my Aunt & my other cousins, but I can’t go.

I want to run.

Cody’s Gone

.