Monday, November 19, 2012


I wish that there was someone I could just sit down with in real life and tell just how scared I am. I try to be strong for the sake of Steven, but my fears just keep coming out in the form of frustrations he does not understand. He doesn't deserve them, either. I just feel so weak sometimes, and terribly frightened. No one is around enough to learn about what my son needs, so what happens when I'm gone?

I know that those around me would say that I speak of my mortality too much, but outside of my son, my life has not been one that I would say is worth living. I've had enough disappointment, abuse and pain. I have buried enough dreams. I have stifled enough tears. And I could care less about what people would have to say when I'm gone, because I'm here...and I don't hear you. Nor do I see you.

I think that the loneliness is the hardest part of this whole situation. During the weekday, when everone is gone, I sit here and think about the world passing by outside my window. It's a bit easier when I actually have somewhere to go, and something to do, but most days are not like that. And I feel judged by those who watch my "drama" unfold. It's like I have leprosy, too many issues, too many problems for anyone to want to come close.

In the past I have tried to hang onto my spirituality to keep afloat, but that part of my world has been rather empty as of late. I understand that rain falls on the just and the unjust, but I can't help feeling like I'm being punished for some mistake that I don't realize I've made. And I get irritated with the people who try to tell me that my situation is not all that bad. You are not here. I'm not saying that my problems are the worst in the world, but they are prolems, and they do burden me.

I must admit that deep inside of me lies the hope that one day, even if it's just one person (and that's all there ever is), someone will look and actually see me. And in spite of all my shortcomings, wish to stay around longer than a few minutes. Because I honestly feel like I will be crushed by this situation sometimes. Since it's not just me that depends upon me anymore, giving up is out of the question.

I'm only human, though. Has anyone ever thought about that?

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Apparently it's not all in my head.

For most of my life I have avoided crying in front of people. It wasn't something that my mother looked kindly upon, especially when she was beating me. But don't mention that to her, we're not supposed to talk about all of that. The subject of my parental limitations is definitely to be brought up, but the years of systematic I live amongst people who seem to think that goodness and wisdom come from age, rather than from lessons learned in a positive way. Oh well, I give up on trying to address that. It no longer matters to me whether or not these people acknowledge what I feel.

So it's been three weeks since my doctor told me to see a shrink (and that my current one must not have been doing a good job). Had I not cried in that office, I probably would not be on the verge of a legitimate diagnosis. What I do know is that the issue is an autoimmune disease. It seems that my body is destroying my red blood cells. I ache with every movement. It's no longer just "you're fat," or "you're depressed." Um, you're damn right I am! You would be too, if you felt like this!

I went from being just another hypochondriac to being "my dear" and "my friend". All of a sudden I'm treated with solicitousness. I don't know whether or not to be scared. I do know that what I'm about to learn is going to change my life. Especially as a parent. I just hope that I can be independent in spite of all of this. I'm going to try. I honestly believe that living alone (with the boy in tow) would be good for my health. If it is true that suppressed rage causes illness, then I need to separate myself, because I'm quite angry with the world around me. I might as well go on and admit it. I don't dwell on it a lot, but I am angry at the people who have used me as a target all these years, as well as those who have come to snap judgments based upon their own shallow nature. I will not stop holding both myself and those around me to a higher standard when it comes to how to treat people. I am a human being. Treat me like one. My pain, my illness doesn't lessen the fact that I bleed just like you when cut.

I fear for my boy. Who will care for him when I'm gone? Because I accept that I will not be an old lady. People always tell me not to speak that into existence, but I feel that this is just a form of denial, one that I wish those closest to me would not fall into. So far, only two people have actually sat and listened to my concerns or need to make plans. I will not be blindsided by this. While my prognosis might not be death within a few years, there is a good chance my son will be young when I go. Can I please go knowing he won't be alone and confused?

At least today I know that it's not just depression. The blood work says that a heart attack is imminent. It says that my disease is chronic, and it's destroying my body. It says that what I've been trying to get someone to see for years, is actually there. I haven't been lying. I'm not a drug seeker (though they do work...shoot me).

I am ill. And I didn't make it up. I just wish I had a support system nearby. The love of my family that is distant keeps me going on the darkest days, but it is very hard knowing how many people are right up the road, who don't pay me a single thought. It's like I'm not worth anything to them.

I'm tired of being ignored...

I often tell my therapist that one day I'm going to write a book. I no longer write in journals, because it just seems like I am doing little more than talk to myself. I only do it these days when I feel as if I'm going to explode.

I'm just baffled at the level of insensitivity that seems to pervade society these days. Are we that selfish? I try so hard not to be, but it's like I don't really exist anymore. From what I'm reading, it's a by-product of chronic illness; you lose the life you once had, you lose friends. Problem is, I feel like everyone walked out of my life, with the exception of those who make me even more ill by being around. It would be nice to have a friend come visit. But they're off living their lives. I don't mean to sound bitter, but I tried to be an asset to my friends before I got sick. You would think after all I've done, I would be worthy of some positive attention.

But no, I'm the drama queen. I attract trouble. Never mind the individuals around me with their own issues, who feel that it's okay to press them upon me. I want nothing more than to simply live a peaceful life, but I'm surrounded by adult children who don't want to deal with their past issues. Hopefully one day soon they won't be a part of my life anymore. I don't deserve to be abused by you, I don't care what happened to you. I have not taken my grief out on you, don't take yours out on me.

I don't get that, this idea that when you are having a bad day, or a difficult stretch in life, it's perfectly okay to walk around with a chip on your shoulder. Most of my life has been full of abuse. I didn't fight back, I internalized it all, and had to eventually un-learn all of the negative messages that were given to me. It was a long journey, it was terribly hard. I still flinch at times when I reach out, and it's like I'm totally ignored. But there is a peace that comes with not basing your self-worth upon the opinions of others. Sure, plenty of people in the world say they don't care what other people think, but if all of those "other people," their friends, family members and colleagues walked away, they would be crushed. I've had that happen to me, and I'm still here.

I'm tired of being ignored. I'm tired of being written off. I'm real. My story is real. My pain matters. Just because it's immense doesn't mean that I deserve to be left alone. I have yet another burden to bear, finally a diagnosis for what has been plaguing me for years. No support system for my son should I die, because there is none for me. Yet I still keep going. Wondering what will happen to my boy when I'm not here, because I cannot channge what will be.

And all because society is too fixated on pleasure to deal with the inevitability of pain. I am to be ignored because all I've ever known, with the exception of the joy that is my son, is pain.

I do not see how that is fair. And I hope that when I'm gone, judgment is heaped upon those who have been too busy having fun to notice me.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

"It's all in your head."

They say that depression is anger turned inward.

Does this mean that I would be in optimum health right now, had I simply beat the crap out of the people who have abused and disenfranchised me during this roller coaster that is my life? Would I honestly be better off if I had opened my mouth and fought back? I have struggled not to act upon the desires to retaliate all my life, thinking that wasn't the way to go. You mean to tell me I'm sick because I just didn't "wild out"?

I look at my life, and I wonder why I even bother. Honestly, the only reason I am still alive, is because of my son. I don't want to leave him. His love is what keeps me from giving up, and I hope that as he gets older, I will not be a disappointment to him. He is truly one of the only things that I can put a smile on my face. Him, and dark political humor. I find the antics of teapublicans extremely amusing...except when they're on a mission to my uterus. If my yearly check up makes me uncomfortable, what the %*^&; do you think I want you up there for? GO AWAY!


For the past five years, I have not been feeling well. My head has ached constantly all this time. There has been no break in that pain. My joints ache intermittently. I catch every cold and flu that comes through the community each year. I have been diagnosed with silent seizures, which have been difficult to treat. I have lived through a stroke. Been hospitalized several times. Most days I do not leave the house, and I do not get out of bed, except to clean and cook. I can sleep for eight hours, and still wake up tired. The actual feelings of sadness over my condition do not surface often, but they're there now. Thanks Doc, for calling me a mental case. I appreciate it!

While these symptoms can be attributed to depression, the stroke cannot. Yes, your health declines due to stress. That is a proven fact. And goodness knows, I have seen a lot of stress and grief in my life. I've been forced to hold my true feelings about my experience inside, or write in a journal, because I was vehemently blocked from telling my truth. Most of the people who have hurt me don't even know they have. Either that, or they don't care. The idea that I was "crazy anyway" has caused many people to legitimize their treatment of me. My journals hold my hopes and fears, the feelings that I have longed to shout to the world all these years. And while some people paint me to be this belligerent, angry individual, they have not been responsible for their actions the way I long for them to be. No one has ever confronted them on the accusations leveled at me. Accusations of driving my father to his grave, being sick enough to solicit my stepfather for unspeakable things, doing drugs...just to name a few. I have never broken the law, I have always striven to be seen as a "good girl". I thought that perhaps this would make my detractors love me. Boy, was I wrong.

Still, while "depression hurts", chronic illness can cause depression as well. Depression is a beast I have been waging war against since I was a child. My short-term memory may be crap, but my long-term memory is fine. I know how I have felt both physically and mentally over the years (I kept a written record!), and prior to March of 2007, I did not feel the way I do now. I used to walk 4 miles a day, come home and do an hour of yoga, then slip on my point shoes to dance. I had an active social life, I sang. I lived. Emotions aside, if I had the status of health that I had back then, chasing my son would be no problem. I would not fear losing grip of his hand and not being able to catch him before he ran into the street the way I do. My body broke down five years ago, and I feel like I've been run around by physicians who can't explain to me why the stroke happened. Since they can't come up with an explanation, all of my symptoms are now "psychosomatic". And good lord, do not ever use a medical term with these arrogant people, they think that you are a hypochondriac. Whoops, another "big word", that us folks should avoid, who haven't been through medical school. No, I'm not a malingerer (there I go again). It's just that when all this started, you never explained in lay terms to me what words like "venous thrombosis", or "sub-arachnoid hemorrhage" meant. So I had to look them up. And they scared the shit out of me. And I use these words, because I don't want there to be any mistake with regards to what I'm feeling or what has happened.

And forgive me for this unrelenting pain in my head. I wish it upon them. Let's see how they move around, think, function. I'm sorry that the only thing that calms the pain once it flares every six weeks or more, are pain meds via IV. You don't have to whisper about me as I walk through the ER. You don't have to make jokes that you think I'm too dumb to understand.

Perhaps my current pain really is anger turned inward. I have tried to be polite, thinking that if I was, I would be treated with dignity. But now I see that many people are just selfish and cruel, and perhaps I need to let the other side of me out, and snap at a few people, show them that I'm not dumb, and not to be underestimated. Perhaps they will straighten up and fly right, and treat me like a human being.

But to just say that all of my experience has been due to depression, is unfair. I did not cause my depression. I didn't cook it up to get attention. I have been called "mental" all my life. This is the tool my abusers have used to cover up their deeds. It's called "gaslighting", look it up. It took me up until a few years ago to stop entertaining the thought that I really was a basket case, and all my memories were false. The thought of that possibility was really scary. But I put that behind me now. My memories are consistent and real. And I am not the cause of my depression.

But if my depression is the cause of my health problems, if my life has been stunted by these health problems, then I'm sorry, but that's really crappy. My whole life, and the plans that I made for it have been stunted by this illness. I have a graveyard of dreams in the back of my mind. I don't visit often anymore, but it's there. And yes, depression is an illness. My hopes, my dreams...all undone by my inability to heal from the maltreatment of others.

So at this juncture, it's "all in my head". And I don't know how to really react to that. I know I need to seek out a second opinion, but the medical community has really hurt me at this point. You label me as an addict because occasionally I need pain meds. I had no idea that receiving a pain injection once every six weeks to three months made you an addict. It must also be because I don't flinch when you stick a needle in me. Firstly, I think it's ridiculous for a grown person to be blubbering and fainting over a damn needle. Secondly, do you see tract marks? No. So I'm not an addict.

Oh, and the visits. It's not a life-threatening emergency, so I should just go home and sit in pain.

Had I done this for the past five years, maybe I would be taken seriously now. Instead of being labeled as just a mental patient.

I'm kind of blown right now.

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Weak Parents

I have decided that I am not cut out to do daycare these days. The amount of spoiled children I see screaming in stores and trying to convince their parents that they absolutely need this toy (who then break down if....IF they hear the word "no"), guarantees that I will have one of these monsters in my home, tormenting my child and raising my stress level.

It surely is not what it was when I was a nanny. I cared for indulged children, but they understood the concepts of rules and obedience. These days children have no fear of repercussion from their parents, and it shows.

For about a month I watched a neighbor's child. He showed up bawling every single day. He never spoke, refused to eat, and I had to make him go to the bathroom. But the parents swore up and down that he'd talk, he'd tell me when he had to go potty, and he was a generally happy guy. I never saw any of that. This kid felt it was okay to play with my son's toys, but would not share the ones his parents brought each morning to pacify him. Had this been a real daycare, he would not have been allowed to bring those toys, and if he didn't participate with the other children, he would have sat out. My son would try to hug him to ease his crying, and he would push my son away. And the kid's biggest gripe? I made him eat the food his parents left for him every day.

His parents came down last night and told me that his mother was now working nights with her job. As a hotel housekeeper? Yeah. Okay. But you know what, their lie saved me from having to tell one, because I was getting rid of that kid.

Children these days are pampered left and right. I understand wanting to give your kids a better life, but to me that means two doting parents, chances to go out and play, and a place where one need not feel fear. NOT tons of toys, giving in at the slightest whine, and definitely not skimping on the food issue. The child I was watching had poo that was white. That's a nutritional deficiency! You're so weak a parent that you can't manage to get your kid to eat? You need to lose them.

Parents of neurotypical kids these days really irritate me. My son is developmentally delayed and behaves better than these kids who at his age are talking a mile a minute, potty trained and able to deal with simple reasoning. Instead they are using their reasoning skills to con mom and dad into buying the latest thing they see, playing with all their gadgets, and falling out in the store. And what does mom and dad do? Nothing!

Please stop saying that the government won't allow you to discipline your kids. It is not against the law to discipline your kids. Stop saying you're afraid of CPS, let me give you a heads up. I had them called on me for a bogus reason. The worker saw that it was a bogus reason, and closed the case. Fear of CPS is not an excuse for letting your brat run wild.

My son has what seems to be unlimited energy. My body constantly aches, and I have no energy. Yet I keep up with him....every day, as he gets up at dawn. I'm constantly in pain, but I lug him and tons of groceries and other sundries around ON THE BUS, while parents of these screamers have minivans to load all their crap in. My son thinks that my every movement initiates a game of chase, and just trying to get to him to change his diaper is an event. I manage to get fruits and vegetables into a child with serious food anxiety due to his autism. What is your excuse, mom? Make a damn milkshake and take those gerber or beechnut pureed fruit veggie thingines and mix them. Serve cold to your brat.

Please be parents, not pussies! Seriously! If you have given up on trying to get your kid to eat, wear something decent to school, do chores, listen to you, and all you keep doing is buying things, then the problem is you. STOP it with all the purchases, find a creative way to involve your kid in the day to day workings of the home and stop making excuses. I read where one lady said it was tough to be a kid today. WHAT? She went on to say that it was easier to just not have them do chores because the effort you had to put into it would wear you out. Lady, maybe you need to just block out yours and your kids' "busy schedules" (they don't need to be in lacrosse, ballet, volleyball, tae kwon do and tennis all at once), and spend several evenings and weekends working on their chores. They bumble it? They fix it. They don't want to move, you fire up that butt, and they will move. Make them understand that YOU are the parent, and stop being so concerned with whether or not they like you. I don't care if my son likes me, he loves me. That's what's important.

My son does not like me when I make him try a new food. He does not like me when I take him in from the park out back because it's time for me to start dinner. He does not like me when I am sluggish when he wakes up at dawn every freaking morning, and I make him lay back down for 30+ minutes. Of course he doesn't like me. So what? I discipline my son when needed, and I do my best to keep up with him. I hold him down to get his medication, and I communicate daily with his teachers. My son hugs and kisses me, and it's not because I give him all these material things. Stop trying to buy your kids' love and approval.

I'm glad the little mongrel is gone. And the ones before him, who peed on my floor, dropped food on my floor that they didn't want to eat, fought like animals, apparently never bathed (because they hated, so? DEAL WITH IT, JEEZ) and loved to have "who can eat the loudest and nastiest" contests.

I think I will stick to my kid. The parents of kids like the ones I watched do not have any real challenges. Stop using income as an excuse. Stop using single parenting as an excuse. You're a parent, you're supposed to be tired. And if you're cash poor, stop buying brand name, stop buying every little toy. When we get our son a toy, he is enamored of it for a very long time, and comes back to it regularly. That's because we're not shopping every weekend. When we do get him something, we tell him it's because he's been a good boy. And we only do it then. We do not reward falling out in the floor, throwing food, pooping in the tub (sensory issue), or general refusal to listen.

Why is it that we have a disabled child who behaves better than most neurotypical kids his age? Why? Steven hardly ever screams in the store. I can count one or two times in his almost four years of life. But each time I go somewhere, someone's brat is screaming bloody murder in aisle three.

Um, take that kid to the car and get an understanding between you. And at home, stop giving in! You subject these kids on the general population and it's because of YOU that so many people want kids banned from public places.

BE A PARENT, NOT A PUSSY. This has been a public service announcement, courtesy of Sam.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012


Lately my therapist has been bringing up the subject of me isolating a lot more than she usually does. In the 16 years that I have been talking to someone about my family issues, I have never felt the urge to flee the way I do now. I just don't want to talk about it. The suggestions I am given about how to "solve this problem" are glib and useless to me. I honestly want to be alone most days. I sometimes think that it would be for the best. I am not happy with the amount of short change I have been dealt in my life, but I do not know how to change that short of keeping to myself.

Last night I had a hard evening with Steven. I am not proud of myself when I lose patience, but it's not like there's anyone around who is supportive. Steven signs and communicates at school and at daycare when he goes. But with me, he refuses to do anything. I spend most of my time with him pulling around dead weight. And when I'm already not feeling well, it's even harder. The reactions I get are usually ones of amusement. Of course it is funny to's not happening to you. But when it does, I get to watch you drop F bombs on my son (oh, he's yours so it's okay....NOT), or spank him for peeling a sticker off the window. However, the exhaustion of his primary caretaker means little.

I cried last night. I cry many a night when no one is looking. Either that, or I pull back into myself and just think. I feel like the only life I have is the one inside me, but in honesty it's always been that way. I was not encouraged to show or have feelings when I was young. I got slapped in the face if I so much as looked like I didn't agree with the things that were being said to me. So I hide a lot. But last night I could not. My sweet son just started kissing me. Even after I lost my temper with him. I love my son. I wish that my critics could see that. I wonder if they were in my shoes, if they had been in my shoes in the beginning, how they would have acted. What choices would they have made?

Sometimes I feel like it's expected of me to remain invisible and subservient. I'm just here to be a buffer for other people's needs and selfishness. But now that I'm pushing back, there's a problem. I'm sorry, but I'm a human being. I have buried dream after dream, dealt with more than my share of abuse, manipulation and dishonesty. I am ready for that to change. And if it means that people are going to think that I'm mean, so be it. I think they're mean. I think they're selfish. I think they're dishonest. I think I'm tired of putting up with their mess.

I hope that one day before I die, that I will have a few moments of the life I wanted for myself, instead of a life that is the product of other people's manipulation of me.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

Steven and Preschool

So my son has started preschool...

Tuesday, May 29, 2012

"You isolate, Sam..."

And that is what I've always done. And I like doing so, thankyouverymuch. Trying to do the opposite has cost me far too much emotionally over the years, and I'm really sick of the sappiness of looking for that proverbial needle in the haystack that is a person in this spoiled society who doesn't put themselves first.

I was never part of that group called "accepted", I was always the girl that was so nerdy and so awkward, as to spark hilarity. Even now, I have little idea how to comport myself socially, so I usually end up having that last gawky laugh, that makes the other members of the group that I'm in (only because of some shallow idea or outing that we have in common, like the playdates I go on because they like my kid more than me...until his autism gets in the way and he steps on their kid) cringe and wish I weren't there. I know they don't want me around. I know they feel themselves too polite to say so, but their actions speak far louder than their words ever could. I'm on the periphery. When you've spent a lifetime there, you become an expert field guide on the climate. Cold, with a touch of pity. Samantha, get tested for Aspergers.

It's soon to be summer in the Krzewski household, and cabin fever is setting in. For all of us. Only two more summers tops of being robbed blind by the "other party", and then we might actually  be able to afford to see a beach. But for now, I'm bored to death. Steve's bored to death. Little Steve is going to hate me for that six weeks he doesn't have school, and I have to figure out what to do with him during that time in the blazing heat, without a car. Our apartment complex doesn't have a pool, and there doesn't seem to be one that is easily accessible anywhere near here. The park is nice...but we need water. And my friend is scaring me about freshwater brain-eating amoebas, so the creek behind the complex is out.

Being bored does not sit well with me. I got some cross-stitch material today, so that should keep me occupied for a while. But honestly, I feel very stifled. It's in my nature to create things, and that's not happening. In talking to my therapist today, we continue to agree that the recurring theme is one of feeling stuck. Situational stressors, finances and health all contribute to me having a life that is so different than what it was six years ago. And I want out. I went to a mall (for the first time in well over a year) with a friend a few months ago, and I felt like I was in the most awesome museum ever. Then I felt bad, because I couldn't buy anything. Yes, I've eschewed a lot of the material world since I got sick, but shouldn't I be able to dip back in it if I felt so inclined? I don't want to be greedy, but it would be nice for me and Steve to afford going on a date once a month. Without the boy. Speaking of the boy, he can completely escape the apartment now, without any assistance. Meaning, unlocking doors, navigating hallways...all that stuff.

But back to my stifled spirit...though Big Steve wants to get out more, he's satisfied with watching cooking shows and reality TV most of the time. I want to go star in a musical. Can I ever make that happen?

I turn 31 in less than two months. Honestly, the older I get, the more depressed I get over the lack of action towards what I KNOW I'm supposed to do with my life. I've got to get my mojo back, somehow. Go whup somebody in a singing competition or something, before my head explodes. Ugh.

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Starting Over

That's honestly what it feels like. The situation I'm in, though with the same people, feels decidedly different. The atmosphere isn't buzzing with stress and anger all the time. My son is deliriously happy. That in and of itself is priceless. I think he feels things much more deeply than the people around him, and I know the atmosphere at my mom's was not the happiest for him.

Steve and I found an apartment, nine months after losing the first one we got. We had to each put down a couple of limbs and a vital organ as a deposit, but this place is ours, and that's what matters. It's a quiet place, has a creek and a playground (with a fence! WHOOOOOHOOOOO!) out back. We had a couple of days of cold showers (until maintenance adjusted the hot water heater), and the garbage disposal leaks water every time I turn the sink faucet on (yay buckets), but the place is clean, bright, and Steven gets to run around to his heart's content. I don't even bother to pick up his toys anymore, he's just going to pull them out when he gets home. I just sweep them aside to vacuum. Speaking of, we need a better one.

Steve has finally come to the realization that he needs to tend to his health and his inner wounds. Things are a lot different between us, it didn't feel like this when we first moved in together. Maybe it's because things are the way they're supposed to be, we're married, settled, and we each have individual projects to work on, as well as ones as a family. I feel hopeful. I have not felt that in a while.

On a more troubling note, both of us have health problems. Steve started drastically losing weight a couple of months ago, and when he finally got in to the doctor, they told him that his sugar was so high, he was on the verge of a diabetic coma. Insulin is expensive, and at that point, he hadn't had any in almost a year. The doctors are helping us with that. The insurance we were forced to get doesn't completely cover the insulin. There's a $300 copay for maybe 3 months. We used to pay at most, $40 for a month's supply. He also has other health concerns to address. But at least he's taking his proper medication. His son and I want him around for a lot longer.

Me, I still have the constant headaches. Now, I get dizzy each time I move too fast or go from a sitting/lying/crouching position to standing. It's annoying. It definitely limits my movements, and I'm afraid to go too far from home. I don't go anywhere alone now, it's just too risky. My resting heart rate is often above 120bpm, so I have to address that as well. Several years back, a neurologist that I had at the time told me that I could have a tumor near my pituitary gland. The current neurologist mentioned the possibility of a cyst (same thing). So, possible brain surgery in the future. Meh, I take it in stride. I just wanna figure out what's going on.

But over all, I'm happy. I have my own again. Even my mother is being nicer. She seems to like me better when I'm not living with her. Go figure. I like her better when I'm not living with her, too.

Sunday, March 11, 2012

I's Free!!!

Escape from witch mountain. That is all I can say right now. I shall blog more this coming week. Steven is determined to pluck my last nerve today. He loves his new place so much, that he is determined to explore every little bit of it. And don't let me walk out of his sight...meltdown.

Lots of new things to share!

Thursday, January 26, 2012


I'm sitting in the local library because I do not want to go back home. I hate the fact that certain words in my life have zero meaning whatsoever, or that they are so hollow, I might as well not use them. I refuse to believe that this is just my depression, I've had this all my life. No, I feel that what I am going through is the direct result of purposeful disenfranchisement. And I long to escape.

Years ago I had a "day-mare", a nightmare in the middle of the day...and it's coming true for me right now. I'm in the prime of my life alone, surrounded by people who choose to either ignore me or ridicule me. My mother's smear campaign is ongoing, her family seeks to undermine me any chance they get, people I once called friends don't even bother to call anymore...and all I mostly get in the form of "advice" is to get over it.

I'm honestly at the point where I don't even want to bother anymore. I don't want to bother with my health, I don't want to bother with my future, I don't want to bother with relationships or dreams. I only bother because my son didn't ask to be conceived, and I owe him a decent chance at life. But it's so hard dealing with my special child with the grinning monkeys that are my parents dancing around every time it's time for me to struggle with any aspect of taking care of him. I hate both of my parents, I'm not even going to be in the least tactful about it now. They have declared all out war on me, and if I cannot fight back, at least I'm not going to sit here and smile and act like nothing is going on.

My brother told me that I just "let mom get to me". What? From the time she reluctantly squeezed me into this world, my every movement was controlled by this woman. She has crippled me, and I'm trying to make a life out of the rubble. I sit and feel ashamed of myself because someone stepped in to block my natural progress, and at 30 years of age I should have more to show for myself besides a stroke history, depression and a kid. I'm tired of everything being such a damn struggle. But I don't trust anyone enough to take care of my I just try to keep moving. But I don't know how long I can. I need help. I deserve a support system, more than just a half-assed family who only appears to jeer at me. I long for peace, to be able to have a quiet day, instead of the turmoil that is my everyday. I run as fast as I can from dysfunction and addiction (not mine), and they still follow me. Still.

For the first time in many years I can honestly say that I am back in the valley again. And I have no idea what I'm going to do now. Mild depression is one thing; you can move and fight through that. But when you just don't give a shit anymore?