This is about my life, from the D/s relationship
i'm in with my Master/Husband to raising a special needs child to dealing with my mental
illness. Beware, this is not for children, 18 and over only please.
i don't know if its me or if its my loved ones or if its fate or what but i can't seem to make anyone happy anymore. i am in a state of retreat. No amount of trying seems to bring about the desired result. i just can't... get with it. i don't know what's wrong with me. i'm pushing myself as hard as i can push, i'm screaming in my head all day long and trying my damnedest to get it right and yet everything keeps coming out like shit.
i keep fucking up. Spectacularly. my house is becoming a total mess, and my attempts to clean just seem to make it worse. Every morsel of food i've attempted to prepare tasted like refried shit. i seem to be either abrasive or whiney or somehow annoying to most everyone in my life and i can't seem to find what it is that they want.
Somehow i've lost track of who i am supposed to be, where i am going, and what the fuck i am doing. i feel their impatience. i understand it. Hell, i'm impatient. What the fuck is wrong with me? i scream at myself constantly. "Get with it, get with it, get with it." But, nothing happens. If i push really hard on the house and get stuff done with it, five other things fall apart and i am down all day the next day with weird physical symptoms. When i get the five other things back in the air, i've dropped the house and it looks like a bomb hit it.
i lost it today and cried for like 15 minutes which is an eternity for me. All i can say is i'm sorry. i don't know what's wrong. i don't know why i can't perform. i don't know why i can't pull my act together.
The litany of curses i've used to motivate myself my whole life aren't working anymore. They just further immobilize me. It's disgusting. Simple choices are more than i can manage. i can't communicate clearly. i'm suffocating and i can't find the places to pull or tug or push to move on. i'm sick to death of it.
i'm exhausted all the time and i can't sleep. i just want to be someone else for a little while.
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i'm learning myself. Discovering myself. Much of it is the same. That same angry little girl limping and hating everyone who is walking with their backs straight and no bloodstains on them. But, i'm discovering there is more to my core than that.
There is a fierce warrior woman who just will not quit. She hangs on, she gnashes, she claws, and she'd be more than happy to rip out a few throats. That defiance they could never break me of has grown up, and it can be very nasty, and sometimes downright aggressive. Don't fuck with my family, this warrior woman will eat you for lunch. i look forward to the day she defends me to some degree as well.
There is a broken child. A sadness that nothing ever quite manages to erase even for a moment. A darkness that no amount of light seems able to illuminate. There is always a bloody little girl chained down in the dark sobbing out her heart in a state of complete wretchedness. i was in denial of this child for much too long, i shunned her, hurled rocks at her, berated her, and made it worse. i'm working on learning to love and care for her. To cut her some slack and eventually it will be my hands that unchain her neck and carry her into the light. But, first i have to accept her, and thus MY pain and honor it. Yes, i have the right to be sad, and hurt, and to even cry.
There is a savior. A woman hell bent on fixing or at least helping every person she touches. i identify too much with every problem, feel everyone's pain too deeply and i avoid my own shit by being the savior. This is a flaw i need to work on. Compassion and wanting to help are good. Trying to save the world isn't gonna happen and its gonna drive me nuts.
There is a little of what i've learned about me. Nothing about my alters, or parts or any of that shit. But, me. Who am i? What makes me that? Do i like it? Can i change it?
i'm working on it.
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So now i've been back off my meds since Friday. i still have hives, but i honestly don't think its related to my meds, i think its just my nerves. So tomorrow i'm gonna call my meds doc, tell him all this shit, tell him my family doc's brilliant plan of pulling all my meds, and the fact that i feel like i'm sliding down hill on a banana peel and ask him to help me get back on them. As for the hives themselves, i'm done with them. They will go away. They may itch and burn, but i can bear it, and i will not let it drive me crazy anymore. This too shall pass.
Money is so tight as to be nonexistent, but the bills are paid. i think i've found us a new more reliable respite care worker. i'm making order of my house. i have to grit my teeth to stifle a scream sometimes, but i'm doing it, i'm putting my life back together.
J and i are having to be very tender with one another. We are both under so much pressure an explosion seems imminent at any moment, but so far so good. Hopefully things will calm there as other things in our lives calm a bit and we can turn back to face one another. We badly reconnect. But, its very nice to know... i can turn my back and fight with all my strength on this side, and he is there behind me, his back pressed to mine, fighting his own battles. Weary we may be, put protected by one another's love, we by god are.
Sometimes in my dreams she walks with me still. i have a hard time holding on to the detail these days, and that makes me so horribly ashamed. She gave me so much, how can she be slippinging between my fingers already. Her hair. How we ued to laugh about her hair. Mouse colored cottonballs someone had glued to her head after magically sucking all the curl out of them. And, we would laugh. Me, my innocent daughter's laugh that thought it knew sacrifice and understood nothing of the term. What did it cost her to laugh?
Oh how she loved my sunbeam boy. Nothing will every shake my faith that she loved him just a tad more than any other child who she ever touched. And she touched so many. The day she came to me with tears in her eyes and told me there was something wrong with him. Oh how i cursed and shouted and showed my ass. And, on the day she passed, the letter came. Autism. i sat crumbled beneath the weight of my mother's impending death, my son's incomprehensible illness, and my husband's pressing arrest. i nearly drowned.
And, then nearly a year to the day later, a lovely daughter. When the machines buzzed and bipped and zinged and screamed and i was so alone and terrified, i knew she sat beside me on the bed. i could feel her cool hands in my hair. i could hear her voice soothe me. She was there. In my time of need, she came to ease my suffering.
But... this troubles me. i don't want her here, tied to me and my troubles. i have too many. What if, with my puckey shit (mamaism for stupid bullshit that is really only important to the person it involves) i am holding her from the celestial paradise she deserves complete with chocolate that causes no sickness or weight gain, good wine, her family, and unending unconditional love.
Pfffttt
i'm overthinking.
i miss my mama.
She was a great person.
She inspired a love in learning in me by playing learning games with me from the earliest times i can remember. It was how we communicaticated until i was able to communicate as an adult.
She was a rarity. A Human Resources Manager with a heart. Whenever she had to lay someone off or fire them, she cried and lost sleep. She always helped them bridge the gap.
She could be a henious bitch if you pissed her off.
She was my mother, flawed, beautiful, perfect, mine. And i miss her.
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i miss you so much Mama. It never ends. i'll never stop. You'll always be in my heart.
Perhaps this is actually a good thing. This whole rock bottom thing. Yeah, i know, i've bitched your ear off, but bear with me a second. Suddenly what i had before is looking pretty damn good. Screaming kid? Managable. Forgetful, often inattentive husband? Work-with-able. Fucked up family? Eh, fuck it, whose family, exactly isn't fucked up? i mean seriously.
Nothing to give you an attitude adjustment like head to toe hives, fucked up stomach, severe puss problems (also hive related), a hemorrhoid, and muscular agony. Kinda lines up the old perspective a bit. Maybe being so stubborn i really had to hit rock bottom before i could see what i had going for me, cling to it, and start working towards those things in tandem with working on the memory work i have left to do on my childhood. Both are vital to my survival. And, both are urgent. And, both needed a major catalyst to get me off my ass and moving on them. Because its hard and i don't really want to.
Here's a news flash. i'm lazy. i don't like poking at shit that hurts. But, if i ever really want to soar free i'm gonna have to. And, i think maybe i just get a real hard lesson in that fact.
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Four little words. And the expected answer is easy. Its yes. Its sure i am. Its of course i am. i'm fine. Its im Fan-fucking-tastictic Babee!!!! But, you know what, i'm not. That's horse shit.
i'm covered in fucking head to toe hives or something damn similar, all my doctors are in a disagreement about what it is and what to do about it and its driving me ape shit. All i know is its swollen, it feels like someone is poking me repeatedly with a damn hot poker (not in any fun way either) and it sucks nuts. my eyes are swelling shut, i can't catch my breathe, and i can't keep anything down. i have these things on my fucking pussy and now i think i have a goddamn hemroid. So how is that for fucking fine? Lick my splotchy aching ass fine.
i'm sick and tired of this and pissed off. i've paid enough. Whoever the fuck i was in my last last life, i've fucking had enough and i've had enough and i want the fuck off this goddamn merry go round thank you very fucking much. i herby refuse to do the whole crying like a bitch with a skinned knee bit and if thats what it takes for me to get better then FUCK getting better. In the end i found my silence and my dignity and i'll be DAMNED if anyone will ever take if from me again. i may give it to J from time to time out of love and the ultimate trust, but i will never have if forced from me again. Fuck anyone who tries. It will never happen.
Never, Motherfuckers, never. You can come in your leather, you can come in your lace, your fucking scruffy jeans or your fucking Ann Taylor and Talbots. Eat shit the lot of you. Tell me i'm crazy. Tell me you're sane. Look down you noses at me. Write in your fucking chart. Just stand back a good distance bitches, because if i get one good chance to get a hand on your pen, its going in your fucking HEART!
So, i'm home. i got home Saturday afternoon. i have hives, the hospital was a nightmare, coming home the transition was impossible with Brad screaming, J and i at each other's throats and basic doom and gloom. Everything just S-U-C-K-S.
my blog music is fucked up because i can't host it on my own site, because of bandwidth limitations and fileden has changed its terms of service. Anyone have ideas?
Back soon with stories of the hospital that was the fifth circle of hell, screaming kids, sister going to jail, disconnections and other things that will give you hives. Hives on your pussy even. ARRRGHHH.
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