because it’s too late to call my shrink

Tag Archive: because it’s too late to call my shrink

Not brave. Not strong.

Written on May 12, 2010

There are days when I think I won’t make it through the pain. That its just too much for me. That I’m not strong enough for it. I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could turn back time to the day I let my secrets show and take it all back. I wonder if I’d of been happier just keeping it quiet forever.

Each day, something comes to mind, that makes me think, I was better not thinking about it. It doesn’t help me to realize the small things in my life that could have been different, if it weren’t for what all happened to me as a kid.

It’s been a long, really hard, very dark grey winter. I need spring. I need summer. I need sunshine. I don’t need more weeks of cold and rain and snow in fucking May. I can’t handle more grey. My head is so grey some days, I could really use the outside world to be bright.

I got a phone call from my brother. Just to talk about the trip I’m taking to his house next month. I said, hey, you know what, keep this between us okay? I don’t really want dad knowing I’m coming. Oh shit sis, he said. You are about two days two late.

I am spazzing out tonight. I unfortunately am gifted at this part. I can’t let it go. I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop wishing that I could be happy to go see my dad.

It only matters that my dad knows, if he tells his wife, who may then tell her children. Shouldn’t matter, but it does. It does matter. I don’t have to see them. Honestly I won’t have time. If I did, I’d make sure I didn’t. But I don’t. That doesn’t make me feel any better though.

All I want to do is cry. I want to curl up in a ball and disappear. I want to run away to that island my friends and I talk about on shitty days. We talk about it, like it’s the island Kenny Chesney does his music videos on. Right now? I’d take the island that Tom Hanks talked to a volleyball on for years.

I am 30 years old and I’m scared of a phone call. From someone who can’t hurt me anymore. From someone who wouldn’t bother to show up where I was even if he knew where I was, because he could care less. That knowledge, doesn’t make me any less terrified.

He called me on my birthday. Because the next day was his birthday, we were born in the same year, he unfortunately is smart enough to remember this. Can’t keep a job or an apartment, can’t act like a human being, but oh he can remember my fucking birthday. Every few years he re-finds my number and calls me. I used to brush it off. I couldn’t this year. Even now? Three weeks later? I’m still having nightmares.

I am not brave enough for this. I am not strong enough for this. I want to shut this back away. This fear. This reality. I don’t want to remember. I want to forget.

I know I can’t and it sucks. I know I have to deal with it alone for awhile and it sucks. The fact that I can’t afford to send my child and I both to therapy, sucks. She comes first. Always. She is in need, she is hurting, this all I know. There is no question. I do wonder how long I can go without talking. Because talking does help.

There are people with way more problems than me. I know this. I see it every single day. I wish I had a magic wand to help, but I don’t.

I can’t even seem to help myself. I can’t stop being afraid of nothing. Logically I know that because my brother said my mom will be showing up at his house too, my dad will never tell his wife. Who won’t mention it to her children. Because really? She hates me and wouldn’t want to see me and never brings me up in conversation on purpose. Logic and fear though, don’t mix so well.

I’m afraid tonight. The fear is winning. I’m sad tonight. I’m depressed. And I can’t do a dam thing to stop it.

Tags: because it's too late to call my shrink, hard stuff, sad

Random things that could be Tweets, but then those of you who don’t follow me would miss out

Written on May 4, 2010

16 Opinions - Talk to me

See: Issa is nicey like that. Or something. Snort.

–I went looking for a picture for my husbands cousin, for her kid’s graduation photo thing. I didn’t find the one I wanted to, but I found the cutest photos of my girls as babies. They seem so old.

–Knowing that a child who you have known since they were four years old, is graduating from High School, makes one feel suddenly very old.

–What exactly does one call their husband when separated? Our divorce won’t be final until October, so it’s not like he’s exactly my ex-husband yet.

–I just heard that Apple is releasing a 4G iPhone in June. I take back all comments (see: whines) regarding having to wait until July for my iPhone.

–Am I the only one who didn’t think the: ‘May the 4th be with you’ Star Wars joke was funny the first time? The 32nd time it’s just dam annoying.

–I have MAJOR shoe issues. Basically I hate wearing them. Which really, I blame on my mother. I mean, if you lived most of your childhood in Southern California, you’d think flip-flops were the only acceptable shoes too. I have tons of shoes. Don’t get me wrong. The problem is that I despise wearing all of them. I wear flip-flops from the second it gets semi-not-actually-yet warm-enough, until the very last second possible. I love flip-flops.

–But what went wrong??? May be the worse question one could ever ask a separated/getting divorced person. However, I hear it often. They ask it like it should have an easy answer. Like I should be able to pinpoint the date and time it all went away.

Honestly, I don’t know. I have thoughts. Guesses. No definitive answer though.

Being asked that is like being punched in the heart. I can’t answer something for others, that I can’t answer for myself. Sometimes I think it’s because they want to know for them. Maybe to figure out where I went wrong? To see if they can avoid that thing I did in their own marriage. Other times I think it’s because they feel bad. That somehow knowing will make them feel better about the situation. Because I should need to make them feel better about my situation?

I don’t know what to say when it comes up. I do know, it’s a question that shouldn’t be asked.

–Really, this is all I have. Sorry for the last one in fact. I’ve been wanting to say that for awhile. It’s just it came up again yesterday.

Tags: All about me, because it's too late to call my shrink, Issa is tired, Random facts

Just letting some of the crazy out

Written on April 27, 2010

20 Opinions - Talk to me

So often, I open and close this page. Sometimes multiple times a day. I don’t know what to say. I have words, but I’m not sure I can or should share them. I doubt my own voice, that anyone cares to hear the crazy that is currently in my head. I know that’s not true. I know all of you come back here, because you do care. It’s just me, being me.

I worry that I’m too depressing. Nothing new, I know. I could probably look back over the past six months of posts and see that same sentence over and over again. For that, I’m sorry.

Last week something happened that knocked me flat. A phone call, from a douche bag who shall remain nameless. It stopped me in my tracks. Made me question every thing. Made me scared to the core of my being. Not for any real reason, just because of who it was. It knocked me on my ass in a way, that I have yet to recover from. Yet again, I’ve let that douche take away my power. I hate myself for that.

I hate myself for ending my vacation that way. For letting it slide me into depression the way that it has. I wish I could say that differently, to not say that I hate myself for things, but I can’t. Not today. Not this week. Maybe not for awhile.

Divorce sucks. Can I just say that? Divorce sucks. My life, my world, down to pieces of paper. My life, in so many ways, decided for me, for the next sixteen years. I don’t know what to do with that either. Not by a long shot.

It’s the small things you notice. The small things that remind me. Things like I am scared of heights and have been one handed, so I used a living room light in my kitchen for two weeks, because I couldn’t reach the kitchen lights to change them. I finally had to call him to come change them, because I knew my mom was about to show up.

Things like, I got in my rental car last week and had to adjust the seat. I cried, because I realized it had been four months since I’d had to adjust the seat in my car. It’s something that used to drive me nuts. But it was sad.

Things like, I went and saw a chick flick on Sunday night. Alone. Which isn’t a big deal, except all the movies I see now are chick flicks and kid movies. I haven’t had to take turns on my movie choice in months. Funny, but I miss that silly argument over whose turn it is this time.

I worry about everything. I don’t know how to stop. I feel like I have no control over my own life right now, so I just fret about all the small things. Which is dumb, since I can’t control those things either. I worry about my kids and how much I’m screwing them up. I worry about the fact that I have no idea what I want in life. I worry about being too much work for my best friends. Basically? I worry a lot.

It’s not all bad you know? My life? It’s not. I have great kids, a decent house, amazing friends and I do know one day, I’ll figure some of this out. It’s just that when I open this page lately, it tends to be when I’m struggling. I am right now. I’m struggling.

Tags: because it's too late to call my shrink, brain dump, divorce

11 years, the new forever

Written on February 28, 2010

33 Opinions - Talk to me

Say you meet a great guy in high school. He quickly becomes one of your best friends and your boyfriend, all at once. You have fun together, you can tell him anything. A few years go by. Mostly fun times, some crappy ones. But your constant is each other. Always, you have each other. You get engaged and get married all in your first year of college. You lose a friend to suicide, gain a spouse and a condo, all in one very crazy year.

A few years after that, you have your first baby; a ridiculously adorable little girl. You work your ass off. Nine, ten, sometimes twelve or fourteen hour days. To make a better life for your family. You finish college, go on vacations. You celebrate holidays, watch your baby girl grow. You do this together.

Everything is better because you have that person. The person you joke with in tense times. The person who makes you happy. The person who lets you cry and stress out. You have inside jokes, you play air hockey, you stay up after your daughter goes to bed, just laughing and watching TV. You start to plan farther ahead in life. You dream out your life together.

One day, a couple years later, you have another, ridiculously adorable little girl. You’re happy; happy with your life, happy with your spouse, happy with your crazy baby girls. You upgrade your life a bit: sell your condo and buy a house, buy new cars. Nothing you can’t handle. None of that really matters though. What matters are that man and little girls you come home too every night. Everything you do, is to make a better life for them.

You start to get burned out on the hours of work. You see your husband and girls very little and you literally can watch them age before your eyes. You miss out on the small things. Things like your baby’s first steps. The first time your oldest rides a tricycle without training wheels. The first time your four year old uses crap correctly in a sentence. The time your baby “warshes” your camera in the toilet. (What? It’s not all good stuff.) You start to live for your vacation time.

One day, your husband comes to you and says that he has a dream of something better. A better life. A great career for him, less of one for you. A move halfway across the country. You look at this man, this man you adore, your best friend and you say hell no. You see the hurt in his eyes. You look around and you think about the life you are living. The crazy schedules, the hours spent in an office of a high rise, the outrageous amount of money you are about to plop down for private kindergarten, what you are missing out on and you say yes. Let’s do it. You move.

Then life gets a little tricky. Bad things happen. Loss, depression, crappy times. You tell yourself it will get better. You will get better. Things will be okay, because you have him, your love, your best friend, your constant. You get a unexpected surprise in the form an amazing baby boy. Unexpected, but none the less, adored. You start to think, hey maybe somehow this will work; this move, this dream, this new life.

One day you wake up to find that you lost everything while you weren’t looking. That you are loosing your husband and it’s too late to change it. That you maybe lost him years ago, even though he’s been next to you that whole time. Somehow you blinked and missed it. The sad part is, you are not just loosing a spouse. You are loosing your very best friend in this world. You have lost that life you thought you had. The happy home, the happy family, the dream. In one fell swoop, your life, the one you helped build? Is gone. Pieces of it are still there, but it’s different. Broken. Shattered even. You then start to pick up the pieces, because in reality, life moves on. It’s the only thing that can be done.

But inside? You are still shattered. You’ve lost. The promise of forever is gone. The dreams of one more baby, watching your kids grow together, vacations around the world, renewing vows at twenty years, buying an RV and traveling the US after the kids go to college? Dreams that no longer exist.

That life is gone. What’s left now is heartache. Pain. Shattered dreams. Unknowing. And three little kids who still have to be raised.

On March 3rd, 11 years ago, we said forever. We stood together in front of our friends and family and together, we promised forever. 11 years. That was our forever.

Forever? I suppose it’s just something that people say. Just a word we throw out there. Something we think we mean, until we don’t.

Forever.

Tags: All about me, because it's too late to call my shrink, divorce, hard stuff, Logan, sad

And then there were four

Written on January 21, 2010

42 Opinions - Talk to me

I always say that my life started the day I walked into Freshman English and met him. For me, my life did start that day. Fourteen years old and my life began. I’d never been in love, I’d never even had a boyfriend. He became my entire world in what seemed like moments. We had a group of friends that we did things with, but we were always together. We had a blast together. I knew I loved him, I knew I’d marry him, when I was fourteen years old.

I didn’t move away to go to school. He didn’t get in where I did. I choose him. I never regretted that choice. Why move away from everything I knew when I had no idea what I wanted to be? Why go to the huge school where I’d know no one, when I could go to the school with all of my friends? I don’t say this to blame him. I choose him. Consciously. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately.

Not to long after that, I asked him to marry me. He said yes and then asked me six weeks later. I, of course, said yes. We got married the following spring. Nineteen years old. I actually didn’t turn nineteen until we’d been married six weeks. Two and a half years later, Morgan was born. Planned, wanted, adored. Bailey came two and a half years after that. Planned, wanted and adored.

Three years later, we moved here. We followed his dreams. We left everything for his dreams. Again, I made the choice. I could have said no and he’d of gotten over it. But I took a chance.

Then life fell apart. I had a 14 week miscarriage and somehow lost myself. I lost the woman I once was. I’ve managed to rebuild myself. But the new me? Is not carefree. Is not all that easy going. Is different. Damaged in some ways. I have changed. Life changed me. I am not that person anymore. I can’t be that person anymore. She stopped existing on July 26, 2007. I am not the woman he married. Not anymore. Not in a long time.

Somehow in the past few years, I lost more than I realized. Somehow in the past few years, I lost my husband. Even though, until a month ago, he was here next to me. I lost him. He lost me. Maybe we lost each other and I just didn’t realize it. He did, but he waited. He waited to tell me he was done, for eighteen months at least. He waited, because I was pregnant with our son and then, because we had a newborn. He waited because he hoped he was mistaken. He waited to make sure I was okay. He waited because he hoped I’d become that girl again. He wanted that girl I used to be. But I can’t be that for him anymore, because I can’t seem to be that for me.

So, I’m here. Alone. Just me. I get to pick up the pieces. I get to figure out what happens next. I get to learn to share my kids. I get to learn how to be without him.

The problem is? I don’t know where I begin and where he ends. I don’t know how to be without him. I don’t know how to start thinking I and me, instead of we. I don’t know how to do this. How do I do this? How do I move on? How can I stop loving him, the way he stopped loving me? I want to know how to do that. I want to know how, because this is breaking my heart. I am not even sure, I have a heart anymore. I feel like it’s been so broken, it may as well not exist.

Now it’s me. Just me. Me and my kids. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what to do next. I’m just here. Trying to breath. Trying to make it through each day. And it sucks. And it’s not fair. And it hurts. I just want my life back. I want to know where I lost it, so I can go back and get it.

I don’t understand. I want to understand, but I don’t understand.

Tags: because it's too late to call my shrink, hard stuff, Issa is tired, sad

Faking it no longer works for me

Written on January 7, 2010

62 Opinions - Talk to me

I have always been good at faking it. Faking being fine. Faking having fun. Faking, faking, faking. I am gifted at it. It’s a life long thing for me. I am so great at it, that sometimes? Sometimes I even fool myself. It was how I got through childhood. It was easier for me to be like that then to deal with my emotions. I was the good kid. Invisible when need be. The voice of reason. The peace maker. The responsible one. Always.

The problem is, I am tired of faking it. It’s too much work. Way more energy then I have right now. I am struggling to just make it. To make sure my kids make it. To get out of bed each day. I have nothing left.

I get up every day and do what I need to do. I take care of myself. I take care of my kids. My house is mostly clean, the laundry is done, the dog is fed and well cared for and there are meals made each day. I have showered each day. I have been and will keep going to therapy. I swear, I am taking my meds. I haven’t fallen of any cliffs.

But I’m tired of faking it.

You want to know the truth? The truth is my husband says he hasn’t loved me in over a year and a half. Our son isn’t even that old yet. I thought he needed space, time, to grow up or something. I was going to suggest he move out for a few weeks. He has already brought up divorce.

The truth is, I had to tell my girls about this myself, because he couldn’t be bothered to find a time to do so. He thought I’d just lie to them about where he was, until he made time for it. While it might have been easier, it wasn’t the right thing to do. Telling them, helping them deal, giving them space to rage and cry and be angry, is the right thing to do.

The truth is, I don’t have it in me to read posts, to comment, to play on Twitter or even really to play bejeweled. Instead of that? I spent half the day making a ‘Best Of’ page on this blog. Not that it was really any easier to read old happy posts of my own either. But that’s what I did today.

The truth is that I’m overwhelmed. That I started crying last Friday night at Liz’s house and haven’t fully stopped since then. I know I CAN do this. I know I WILL do this. But it’s scary. And big. And hard.

Somehow I have to learn to deal with the fact that the life I’ve had since I was fourteen years old, the life I had with him is over. My life, my kids life isn’t over. But that life, that true love that I had, or thought I had, is over.

All that’s left is my pain and my inability to fake it. Sadly, that is one of his main issues with me. I guess I have become to real. Too real for him. So here we are. This is my new life. That’s my truths and I just can’t fake it anymore.

The truth is that I’m heart broken. My heart is crushed. Gone. I can’t fake otherwise. Instead? I’m going to try to deal with it. To be sad. To grieve. To try to rebuild my broken heart. Because that seems somehow easier than faking it.

Tags: All about me, because it's too late to call my shrink, hard stuff, Issa is tired, sad

Because somedays love and heartache go hand in hand

Written on December 30, 2009

76 Opinions - Talk to me

Nine months ago, I met my best friend on Twitter. Her name is Liz. Maybe you’ve heard me mention her? Once, twice, twenty-two times possibly?

Met is a strong word, considering it is Twitter. In that moment, I didn’t know she’d be my best friend within seconds. What? Okay fine, minutes maybe. Ha. Felt like seconds.

We went back and forth on Twitter for a few days. I felt a little bad when I realized she’d been following me for months and I’d never bothered to follow back. She’s quiet like that. I stopped feeling bad, when I realized she’d read my previous blog and NEVER EVER COMMENTED. Ahem. She swears she would have on this one, one day.

One night, I don’t remember what I wanted to ask her, but I didn’t think it should be out there for all of Twitter to see, so I DM’ed her. Which led to, I believe, two solid hours of DM’s back and forth, before one of us was smart enough to say, do you want to chat in Gmail? That first DM to her, is the best decision I’ve made all year.

The rest is history. We are twins. Twins from another mother. Seriously. Sometimes it’s frightening how much alike we are. Other times I wonder who this crazy woman is and why in the world she likes me. Maybe I think that often. Only because I’m really the crazy one, not her. She’d yell at me for that. Calling myself crazy. She yells often. It’s always the quiet ones, I swear.

Some find it funny when I say I met my best friend on Twitter. Some find it insane that I can say someone is my best friend, when she lives 4 states and 1237 miles away from me. I don’t know that I care what “they” say. What I know is this: nine months ago, I met the greatest friend I’ve ever had. The end.

I love saying that. The end. I *may* have stolen it from Liz. She says it to me all the time. As in: the end, I’m right, you are wrong, now go do what I said. The end. She may be bossy. And stubborn. And…oh um, I’ll stop now. I kind of need to make sure she comes and gets me from the airport this morning. See, I’m going to spend New Years at her house. I really need to make sure that she picks me up.

This had been a hard year for me. The last three months have been very, very hard. I don’t know that I could have made it without Liz. I’m not joking. She has been like a rock for me. Screw that, she has been my rock. She has been there every time I’m fallen, to pick me up and duct tape me back together again. When I tell Liz I’m sinking, she reminds me that duct tape doesn’t sink, it floats. She doesn’t flinch when I show her the worst parts of myself. She yells at me when I need yelling and reminds me to breath when I forget. She knows the absolute worst things about me, about my life and she still loves me. She loves me enough to never let me push her away, which I am really good at trying to do. It’s hard to let someone that close, to show them all of your inner scars and heartaches and not feel like you’ve shared too much. To not want to shove them away, so you don’t have to look at them the next day. But she never, ever lets me. For this? I am eternally grateful.

Today, I am, for the first time ever, looking forward to New Years. Because I am about to leave my house and fly to spend the next four days with my best friend and her awesome family. That makes today a great day. Today I get to hug my best friend a million times. Today I get to cry and be a spaz in person…okay maybe not. Am mostly joking about the spaz part. The crying…eh, I don’t know that I can help it. Or the spazziness really. Oh well.

I’ve done a lot this year. Met some amazing people. Made some amazing friends. Friends that I don’t think I can imagine not having in my life. Friends, who make me laugh, let me cry and vent and help me hold myself together. For the first year ever, I feel supported by amazing people. People who know the real me.

I’ve done some things I never thought I could do. Hai, I flew to Chicago to meet bloggers. Loads of them. In person. Alone. I talked in front of a room full of strangers and didn’t pee myself or faint away dead. Course I did have phone hand holding for oh an hour before I did that. Seriously. I flew to Vegas to meet Liz In September, not knowing for sure if she was an ax murderer wanting to kill me. LOL. I never believed that….although some people I know did.

I’ve dealt with some things that I thought would sink me forever.

I was able to do it all, because I knew I had someone holding my hand, reminding me that baby steps are okay; reminding me that it is progress to get to the next day. Someone who lets me hide sometimes and other times, does not let me hide at all; for knowing the difference and knowing which I needed most in the moment.

I have wanted this year to end for a long time. Next year may not be any easier. I know the first part of the year won’t be. I know that because last night, my husband and I decided that he needs to move out. Meaning, last night he packed some bags and left. It was not just his choice, but I wasn’t/am not prepared for the things I heard. For the reality that is my new life. I’d like to say he’s moving out for awhile, but from what I hear, it’s probably for good. There is a lot I could say, a lot that needs to be said. But right now, I just can’t yet. I am broken. My heart was shattered and I need a few days before I say anything more about it. It’s been hard enough to say it at all.

For me, today is a mixed day. I am wrecked after last night. I am numb. It hasn’t fully sunk in. I knew it was coming, had weeks to prepare for the actual conversation, but it didn’t make it any easier. It may have been one of the longer, harder nights of my life. I don’t know what my life holds when I get back. But today I get to go away from it.

Today is not a day for this. There will be tons of time for it later. Today is a day for happy stuff. I get a break from this for a few days. A break from my life. Today I get to go see my best friend. And that makes it all better. At least for the next four days.

I hope you all have a wonderful New Year. Hopefully 2010 will be a better year for us all.

Tags: All about me, because it's too late to call my shrink, bff's, hard stuff, love, sad

Can you be a pessimist with optimistic moments?

Written on November 22, 2009

20 Opinions - Talk to me

I can look at things from all sides. Generally.

Some days though I have a real hard time seeing the positive in anything. I am not the world is ending type. I don’t believe in the 2012 hype. I don’t believe that California is going to fall into the ocean. I don’t worry about the polar ice caps melting and us all being frozen alive. At least not in my lifetime. I don’t worry about dying for some reason. Probably a good thing too.

No, it’s the smaller things that I worry about. The things that I have no real ability to control. I wouldn’t say I’m a pessimist. I am close though. Maybe a pessimist with optimistic moments?

I am the girl who envisions car crashes. I get nervous when anyone else is driving but me. When I get a phone call from someone I haven’t talked to in forever, I assume the worst. I have this weird theory that if I think about all the possibilities, it won’t happen. I think about possible injuries before I even do something. I picture in my mind how I will deal with it. I don’t worry about things as I am doing them, just before.

What can I say? I’m an over thinker. I think about conversations that are going to be awkward, before they happen. I think abut everything the other person could say and how I could respond to make it easier. Doesn’t always work, but I try.

I am the mom who doesn’t watch her kids climb on playground equipment, because if I watch I envision the worst. I sit there on my phone, or watch other kids. I am the mom who holds onto her kids shirts on mountain adventures. If I am holding their shirt, they won’t fall off the cliff that is 35 feet away. I *may* be a bit of a control freak.

Climb a mountain? No. Dive off a high dive? Heck no. Sky dive? ARE YOU INSANE!!!

The thing is, despite this, I enjoy life. I do. I have fun. I am not afraid to try new things. I just know that there are certain things I will never do. This won’t make sense, but I’d love to para sail, even though I’m afraid of heights, but I’d never even consider bungee jumping.

Where this really comes into play is when something happens, where I have no control, I freak first, think later.

Last week and for the few weeks prior my husband and I were having major communication issues. All we did was fight. He couldn’t seem to talk to me without starting an argument. As time wore on, I was convinced it was me. I was convinced he didn’t love me anymore. That he wanted to divorce me.

Like I said, I freak first, think later.

The truth is so far from what I thought. Unfortunately this is where I stop talking about it. I know that sounds like a cop out and for that I’m sorry. But my husbands personal issues are his story to tell, not mine and he doesn’t want them shared on here. He’s okay though, just having some issues that he needs to figure out. He didn’t know how to talk to me about it, which just made it seem so much worse.

I wanted to apologize to you all. I am sorry if I worried all of you. I am a freaker. I am a pessimist. I was scared. I thought something and it clouded my world for a few days. It turned out to be not true. Although, since I’m not a mind reader (my crystal ball seems to be defective) it was hard to know what the heck was going on. Thank god it wasn’t what I thought. What we have to deal with, what is going on with Logan is fixable. Deal-able.

I couldn’t have fixed what I thought was the problem. I couldn’t have fixed him not loving me anymore. Luckily I don’t have to try.

Tags: All about me, because it's too late to call my shrink, Full Disclosure, Logan, Random thoughts, What was I thinking

Yet another post I shouldn’t publish

Written on November 15, 2009

19 Opinions - Talk to me

I’ve sat here with this page open for ten minutes just hoping I could find some words. Any words. Writing normally helps me. It focuses my mind, helps me find my words, but so far, no go. I am having trouble with words right now. I don’t know what I think. I don’t know what to say.

Not to you all, who deserve them, for all of your amazingly sweet comments.

Not to my husband, who I am having trouble talking to at all. When we do talk, all we do is yell, argue and name call.

Not to myself.

This weekend has been horrible. I was wishing for Monday, by noon on Saturday. It hasn’t improved since then. Nothing I have tried to do has worked. Everything I have touched has turned to shit. Every word I have said has been perceived as mean.

This year has just sucked. If I could press a button and make it the week of New Years, I would. Next year just has to be better. It has too. I can’t handle another year like the way this year has been. I am not strong enough to handle another year like this.

When I look at my life, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how to make things better. I don’t if I can make things better or if I just need to learn to accept that this is as good as it gets.

What I do kow is that something has to give. Something good has to happen.

I feel so lost right now. I don’t even know what would make things better. I would love to blame this all on not being pregnant, but it’s just not that simple. That’s just the last straw on this year.

I am barely keeping my head above water. I think I’ve lost myself this year. I only hope I can find myself next year.

I shouldn’t publish this. I know. I know it will worry some of you and for that I am sorry. But I’m going to anyway. I need to, for myself. I need you all to know that I will be okay. In two days, maybe a week, I will see something positive and be okay. Right now though, I am not seeing it. I am not seeing the good. I have had a really bad weekend that has made me question everything, including my marriage. And that breaks my heart.

I will be okay. I always am. I have gotten out of bed every day and I will continue too. But I am going to publish this. So that I remember. When that day comes this week, next week or next month; so that I remember how much has changed.

Tags: because it's too late to call my shrink, hard stuff, notes to myself, WTF

Because it’s my blog and I’ll cry if I want too.

Written on November 12, 2009

34 Opinions - Talk to me

Today I went to the doctor. I’ve been sick since Sunday; fever, achy, the whole nine yards. I’ve also had lower back pain since Monday morning. I was diagnosed with a massive (or I believe the word she used was impressive) sinus infection, the flu (not the bacon type) and I’ve pinched my sciatic nerve. Oh, and I’m not pregnant.

Yeah.

For two and a half weeks, I thought I might be. But I’m not.

I’m angry. I am so angry right now. Angry at the world. Angry at my body for making me sick and late at the same time, so I confused the two. Angry that it just isn’t easier. Angry that my fucktard of a cousin can keep having kids (each with a different dad, each one dumber and less employable than the last) that she doesn’t want, mostly neglects and lets the government pay for, but that it isn’t easy for me. I am angry at myself for how much I believed in something, just because I want it to be true. Angry.

Mostly though, I’m sad. Very, very sad. Because I wanted to be pregnant, very much so. I wanted it so bad and it hurts. I felt my heart shatter into pieces when my doctor told me. I wanted a baby. I want a baby. I want to be pregnant right now. I would have done anything to change her answer. I cried when I called my husband. I cried when I called my mother. I cried as I called my best friend. I am crying as I write this.

It’s more than just this time though. It’s not that easy. I should be complaining to you all right now about the end of my pregnancy. I should be planning into my holidays the very likelihood of going into labor on Christmas. I should be buying a little stocking and baby’s first Christmas ornament, just in case the baby came a bit early. If I’d not miscarried in April, I’d be so close right now. But it wasn’t meant to be.

It doesn’t matter how many kids you have or don’t have. When you want a baby, when you want to add to your family and you can’t seem to be able too, it’s a horribly empty feeling. When you think you are pregnant for a few weeks and you are so thrilled, only to find out you are not, it is so sad. In fact, it is heartbreaking.

I am heartbroken tonight. Sick and broken.

Tags: because it's too late to call my shrink, hard stuff, Issa is tired, sad