I Really Should Write More

I say this every time I post after going dark for awhile. I’d like to say the reason I went dark was because everything was going amazing, swell, and easy. Wouldn’t that be nice?! It’s far from the case.

Although I have a job now. It’s been going strong since mid-February, and it’s is the only part of my life that seems stable. My marriage is on the verge of ending after almost 2 decades together. I stopped smoking. Mainly because I realized that it was taking more for me to get the same effect, and the new job does random tests, so yeah, it was time to stop. Meanwhile, my husband, who suffers from extreme depression, upped his smoking habits.

At first I didn’t see a problem, until we ran out and I couldn’t afford to get any for several days. He would spiral, hard and fast. His meds need to be upped, but with no health insurance we can’t afford to go to the doctor to get it done. We are able to get the meds with a prescription discount card for about $25/month. But he recently stopped smoking too because he realized how much he was smoking and how much it was costing.

Since then his moods have been crazy. I don’t know when he’s okay and when he’s not okay. I made some money decisions in order to keep us afloat while I was without a job and he didn’t approve of them. Meaning I had to use money from his account to pay rent and get groceries. He wasn’t pleased. He removed my access to the account (which has more money in it than mine) and won’t use it to pay bills. It’s selfish, I know. He keeps using this against me to this day. Says I betrayed him, he can’t trust me, etc… I know I should have told him before hand, but its hard to have a conversation with someone is his on another planet from the time they wake up til the time they go to bed. Regardless, I should have told him, but I feel like I’ve done my “time” and have put that money back. We are still struggling because we are just living off my checks, which barely make it from check to check, and his checks are going to his account and not being used for anything other than to build up enough for a project he is working on.

He tells me that he loves a version of me that he doesn’t know exists anymore. I don’t even know how to process that. The other day, he got upset with me because I was frustrated with our kiddo because he wasn’t listening and was trying to stay up late. He lost it on me in front of our son. Full on yelled at me, veins popping. I had never felt so demoralized and small in my entire life. I actually walked out of the house because I didn’t know what to do.

He needs help, and he won’t get help. He doesn’t want to spend money on seeing a therapist. He won’t call the hotline when he is suicidal. I know what he is doing is wrong. I’m fully aware. No husband should treat their wife like that. It’s emotional abuse, straight up. But I’m having difficulty understanding if its because of the depression or if this is what he is like now.

My son is going home to my folks in a few weeks to stay until school starts, and the husband is going out of town for work. As much as I want to be excited about having the house alone, I’m nervous because I already feel alone in a house with other people. What is it going to be like when I actually am?

I haven’t left my house since the 4th of July. And I can’t really afford to go anywhere. So I feel stuck, trapped, and alone.

I need to write more. I need to stop suppressing all these feelings, because it has led to multiple panic attacks today, where I have ended up laying in my bed in the dark with my weighted blanket on me. But I can’t spend my time in the dark under a weighted blanket. I need to live again. I need to be free. I need, for fucks sakes, to feel loved and be loved for who I am right now, and not a version that is hoped to exist.

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There’s nothing worse than feeling lonely. Like feeling like no one understands how you feel, how you hurt, and how to help you heal. It’s mean awhile since I’ve posted. I thought things were getting better, but I let myself believe the untrue. Things aren’t better. Yes, I have a new job that I am absolutely loving, I’ve managed to weather it through the last 7 months and come through in one piece.

But that one piece is a facade. It’s not real. Upon a closer look you will find a beaten down, broken person, who doesn’t know who or where to go. I’ve lost a lot. My pride. My dignity. My sense of security. It’s all gone. I live day to day waiting for my world to come crashing down.

And really, that’s the anxiety. I get that. That’s my beast to carry. That’s my burden. That I’ll always have to fucking deal with. It’s not going anywhere anytime soon. No matter how much meds I take, how much self care I put into myself, or how much I talk about it to someone who truly doesn’t understand. It’s there. Like a ticking bomb ready to explode.

Even someone with anxiety can someone get it, but no one really knows what it’s like to constantly think about the worse case scenarios at every turn. To never be truly happy. To wonder if it will ever get better.

My old habits have come back. Crying in secret into a towel in the bathroom. Not owning up to my feelings and thoughts in fear that I will hurt someone’s feelings, despite them hurting me. And the suppression. The suppression weighs the most on me. Because why not? Suppression is the easiest choice. It’s the best way to “forget” and move on. But you can’t ever really forget can you? All the horrible things you’ve done, said, and worrying about the future.

Maybe I need help. Maybe I can’t fight this on my own. And that is probably true. But the guilt of owning up to that with my family, the stress I could cause them, takes over and tells me to not to ask for help. That I’m stronger than this weak person I’m acting like. Atlas got help from Hercules, but was tricked back into holding the world. Regardless, I’m always going to be Atlas. Doesn’t matter if I get help. I’m destined to be Atlas.

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Mental Break Through

I don’t even know where to begin. It’s been so long. I’ve been trying to relax and not focus on the fact that we are basically broke.

However, that’s about to change because I finally got a job! I start next week on the 15th. It was a long struggle to find something and for the longest time I felt like I was unhirable. This new gig is sweet thought. I’m 100% working from home, developing social studies curriculum for an online company. Both my loves in one job. I know I’m about of the routine of working all day, but I’ve been using my last class for my EdS to get ready.

I finish my degree this coming Monday. I’m in the final push and the light at the end of the tunnel shines so damn bright, I can’t believe I’m here.

Since July I have felt worthless, lost, and alone. Which I know is dumb, because I’m surrounded by people that love and care for me, but my world was turned upside down when I lost my job. Things are finally turning. I’m hoping in a few months time we will be back on our feet and in better times.

I need to do a better job on blogging. This is therapy to me. It’s great to be able to get it out of my head.

I hope you have a great Tuesday.

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Still Kickin’

I haven’t posted anything in over a month.  Things have been carrying on as about as normal as I can get them to be.  I’m still looking for a job, and with each day that passes, I feel my anxiety build even higher.  I’m getting plenty of “we like your resume, do this task, and then an interview,” but then that’s where everything stops.  I can’t get pass the last round to seal the deal so to speak.  I don’t know if they can sense my desperation, or if they are calling my previous school and getting a not true story.

I’ve basically isolated myself from everyone except my family.  I haven’t heard from any of my old co-workers, who supposedly had my back.  That is what hurts the most.  Feeling like I had a support system, and then come to find out that I really didn’t.

Things are good at home, for the most part.  I keep everyone happy in the house, but there’s no one to help keep me happy.  I’m back to suppressing on a daily basis the emotions that I feel because I can’t show weakness in front of my husband.  I’m beginning to see that I don’t really have anyone in my corner for help.  I truly do feel alone. I feel like that I’m in someone’s life for their own purpose.  I’m a means to an end for people.  I always bend over and help those in end, and I don’t ask for anything in return.  I have an pretty decent example of this.

Every year for Christmas I bake.  I don’t mean I bake a batch of cookies.  I mean I bake batches and batches of cookies.  This year I was asked by husband’s partner if I could teach her to bake.  She was never taught to bake cookies, or candy, or really anything.  I said of course!  Her husband is the one that I had a falling out with, we no longer are sleeping together, but are just friends.  He wanted all the details for when she was coming, so I gave them all, invite him to come down as well.  He said that he was going to be spending time with “Jane” (not her real name).  But this Jane is the one that started to bring forth all the drama that I’ve probably blogged about too many times.  I felt used because he just wanted is wife out of the house and occupied so he could have time with “Jane.”  Then proceeds to send me text messages trying to get information for him about what his wife was doing.  This is how all this shit happened before, so I called him out on it.  Told him it wasn’t fair to use me and put me into that situation.  Our interactions are few and far between these days, and when we do talk, I get “canned” responses not meaningful ones. Now, his wife did come down.  I’ve made 6 batches of cookies in the last 3 days, she hasn’t helped with a single one.  She’s been cuddled up on the sofa with my husband, doing the EXACT things that she is pissed at “Jane” about with her husband.  So I was used as an excuse to come down to learn to bake, but really she just wanted time with my husband.  I could continue but I’m not.

I’m sure some of you are like, why do you let that happen?  Well, it’s a swinging thing and to be honest, I know that this is coming to an end.  We’ve decided to stop come the first of the year.  My husband knows the toil this has put on me with all of the drama that I’ve been dragged into.  I don’t find it fun anymore.  I actually get annoyed 9 times out of 10 when I get a text from someone that wants to hook up.  I’m just not in the mood for it anymore.  I’d rather be home, with my husband, and my son.

I’ve changed a lot this last year, both mentally and physically.  I’ve gone through a major bout of depression with no meds, no support, and struggle each day to continue on.  However, I know I’m not defined by my anxiety.  I know my worth.  I am not the person that most people think I am.  I’ve been beaten down this year.  I’ve fallen more times than I can count, and the victories are rare.  But I live for the victories.  Those small victories is what keeps me going, because I know that I’m going to get mine soon.  I’ve paid my dues in pain, anxiety, and depression.

Until then, I’ll push through with my tears.

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Deceit is Heavy on the Soul

I’m learning that deceit is heavy on the soul.  The longer you let the deceit play out, the more it weighs on you. I came home for the next week.  I wanted, no I needed to see my family.  I’ve been deceitful with them for the last 4 months.  I thought seeing them would help with the situation.  However, its not.  The only thing it’s doing is making me feel worse.  I want to tell them, I really do, but I don’t want to crush my mom.  I don’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes and face when I tell her I’m a failure.  That I lost my job because of a mistake, and someone who back-stabbed me.  I don’t want to hear about how she feels my husband doesn’t take care of me and my son.  So I don’t say anything.  I lie and lie and lie some more about what is actually going on.  I spin the truth to make it less like a lie, but I still know it is.

I’ve cried 4 of the 5 days I’ve been here.  Sunday was particularly bad.  I went with my parents to church.  Let me be frank, it’s not because I went to church that I had a bad day.  I enjoy going to my parent’s church. Their preacher isn’t your typical preacher.  He is more down to earth, more easy going, and doesn’t get too preachy on you during the sermon.  The sermon hit close to home, and things I’ve been working on, being authentic.  What does that mean?  How does one become authentic to themselves WITHOUT worrying about what others think.  That is the bulk of my anxiety.  The perception of other people.  I have modified myself to fit other people’s expectations of me to the point that I don’t know what and who I am anymore.  I’ve made modifications to how I act even around my husband, by not showing how messed up I am currently.  I don’t know who actually knows the real me.  Who would still be around when I show the real me.

I look put together.  I look 100% fine.  I look like I am mentally stable.  But I’m not.  I’m more of a wreck than I let on.  I fight day in and day out with who I am, and who I want to be.  I feel like who I want to be is so far out of reach that I don’t know how to get there.  I keep hoping that once I get a full-time job things will get better, that I will go back to normal, but I don’t think that is a solution, it’s a bandaid.  I need help.  I need help that I don’t know how to get.

The deceit is changing me faster and faster every day.

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Homeward Bound

I’m going home in a few days.  I haven’t been home since last Christmas. My parents don’t know I’m without a job. Time to put my game face on.  Hopefully my poker face is a good one.

I’ve been applying for jobs all the time.  Last time I blogged I mentioned I had a week set up of interviews.  They were all disappointments.  All insurance gigs that wanted me to sell insurance policies to people.  Evidently because I have a background in teaching, I would be good at it, because people would listen and trust me.  I’m sorry, but I’m not all about that.  Telling me I’ll be making 6 figures in a 6 month time frame is a joke.  My mother in law sold insurance and she made less than what I did before I lost my job, and she sold it FOR decades.

I’m excited to get away.  I’m excited to enjoy some crisp fall weather and spend time with my family.  I need a break from this current struggle I’m going through.  I need a check on what’s going on outside of my world of chaos. My mom thinks that I’m arriving on Sunday. Taking my time leaving Saturday and making the drive in two days with my son.  However, we are actually leaving very early Friday morning and making the drive in a day.  My dad knows that I am doing this, but we are going to surprise my mom.  Tomorrow will be a busy day to get everything I need done, but I can do it.

Anxious C

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I want to empty my head…

All these thoughts. All the worry. All the pain. All the guilt. I want to stand on my head and pour them out… I want to let everything go. 

What good is worrying anyway? It accomplishes nothing. So why am I wrought with it? Why does my mind spend hours replaying conversations, days obsessing over interactions and outcomes that I have no control over?

Oh, right. Because I have anxiety. So I know that the irrational parts of me have a cause. Seems like knowing that would make it easier to turn them off… But that’s not how it works. Knowing that it’s because my brain is sick doesn’t make it easier to deal with, and it makes it even harder to understand. 

I’ve been isolating. Only talking to those who text me first and only in regard to whatever they’ve text about… avoiding phone calls… ignoring social media notifications. I know I’m not supposed to isolate – it triggers the depression – but I have nothing to say. All I can think about are the worries. The fears. The what-ifs, and the I-should’ves. I spend a lot of time in tears, unable to articulate exactly why except that I’m overwhelmed. The only person I talk to is my husband, and that’s only because he’s unavoidable but talking to him always starts a fight. He thinks I’m being difficult. I’m sure that it is difficult for him… but I wish he could see how hard it is for me. In here. Stuck in this dark place, all alone. Trapped under the weight of all of my worries, feeling as though suffocating would be a reprieve. 

“I want to empty my head. I want to stand on my head and pour everything out… I want to let it all go.” I just keep repeating it, hoping that something in the universe hears my plea and has mercy on me. I don’t know what else to do. 

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