Friday, July 18, 2014


Three things needed to happen to put down roots.  A career for my spouse, a home of our own, and a career for me.

The first is done, the second is in progress. That leaves me. What do I want to do? 

I want to help people (or hide from them).
I want to matter/ make a difference.
I don't want to be miserable.
I want to help provide for my family.

I've been told I should open a half-way house for all the crazies that find me.  I could go into social work, but I think it might kill me to expose myself to that much suffering from other people. 

I've also been told I should write.  Write something, anything, everything.  It's been a recurring theme from friends, family, neighbors for the last several months.  It's written into my patriarchal blessing, if you believe in such things.  I don't want to write anymore, though.

An off-hand comment about my writing sounding like a sociopath.
The content is unpalatable for the darkness no one wants to see.  Unsharable for the secrets they hold.
One of my heroes, writer of the townrats theme song (Lost Prophets - Rooftops) got arrested for child molestation.  How can I use it anymore?
I don't think I have any skill anymore.  The talent has been hidden under a rock and wasted away.  And yet, if I take things in threes as a sign, then the dozen reminders to write must not be ignored.  The writer's group even landed in my lap (not literally, thank heavens). 

I think I'd like to write about my muse.  A set of song lyrics that follow that plot arch like Brad's did many years ago.  I'd like to write about the logical conclusion of suicide.  And yes, finish the piece that got me labeled a sociopath, because fuck you, Mr. Bear.  You speak lies.  It's the bit of lucidi/mindhacker people-analysis. 

Writing does not pay bills, though, unless you're very persistent and very lucky.  I still must find some other job to do.  Something that doesn't involve panic attacks on a regular basis. 

I should sleep.  Sigh.  If I can make it through the home-buying and Paychex process that'd be nice. 

Monday, June 23, 2014

"Still, she smiles at me.
And I can't take it.
No, I can't help but wonder,
Why do we sacrifice the beautiful ones?
How do you break a heart of gold?" - Poets of the Fall

Saturday, June 14, 2014

"He got violent during sex today. He hit me as I cried for him to stop. I got sodomized. Because I couldn't stop crying, he became angry and choked me. He then restrained me for 3 hours before I was able to run out the door."

She's hiding at the shelter for abused women.  All her belongings are in her car.  She asks me to help her transfer to a new city and to remind her of the thousand reasons not to go back to him.  Because she knows she'll want to.  She's been so broken for so long, he felt like home to her.   

I hope she takes precautions against him coming after her. 

I just.  


Wednesday, February 5, 2014

this too shall pass

Depression cycle. 
Having trouble remembering that this will pass.
That I've been here before many times.
Logic and experience vs. chemicals -
right now it's a tie.

It feels like everything is caving in.
That life is a never ending nightmare
from which I cannot wake.
That nothing matters, and fading away would be

I'm trying to eat and sleep and exercise.
Taking vitamins and antidepressants.
Writing out my cognitive behavior lists.
Fighting to stay above the darkness.

Everything is a struggle.
Getting out of bed instead of sleeping into oblivion.
Eating in very small portions
because that's all I can handle.
Forcing myself to interact with people,
"fake it until you make it"
and hope they don't notice I'm on the verge of panic and tears.

Objectively there is nothing wrong.
I can point to the trigger and tell you that's not the cause.
This internal sickness knows no reason.

People ask how they can help.
They send gifts and hugs and words of encouragement.
All of which are interactions I cannot handle in this state.
Just be patient. 
I see you there on the sidelines
cheering me on.
I appreciate it,
but back off. 
Be patient.
I'll come see you when I'm ready.

Tuesday, January 14, 2014

Today was going better than yesterday. I got back on the bandwagon, ate oatmeal for breakfast, came home ready to get stuff done.  Then I went to pick up kids from school. 

Yep, that's my kid in the principal's office, where he's been most of the day after punching four kids and then threatening to blow up the school.  Why?  Because someone was throwing a ball at him during a game during P.E. 

It's not like we haven't been over how to handle bullying situations a hundred times. It's not like he hasn't been in one on one counseling for a year and a half to learn to control his emotions / responses.  It's not like we haven't kept in constant communication with his teacher, giving set consequences for every day he doesn't behave appropriately in school.  It's not like we don't do everything we can to make sure he has a safe, loving home to make him feel secure and not need to lash out at other people. 

I don't understand what else I need to be doing.  Obviously I'm failing at something.  If I pull him out of school and put him in the online K12 program, I will have to quit my job and be the mean person who rides him to get his schoolwork done. I don't know if that will help him.  I know it will help everyone else who has to put up with his punching, fits, crying, disruptions... My child is terrible in school, and I feel like it's my fault. 

I feel like I'm failing at everything. That I've tried so hard, and it's all for naught.  That everything's hopeless.  I want to give up.  Why does everything always have to be so hard?

Monday, January 13, 2014

Trying to stop using caffeine and melatonin, so I haven't slept well at all this week.  I remember how much I hate going to bed. 

I try not to write anymore, but sometimes I can't help it.  The words must go somewhere. 

Feeling pretty withdrawn from everyone.  I stop writing. I stop talking to people. I filter everything. If you can't say something nice...

Pretty frustrated with humanity.  I speculate it's the new job and having to pretend to be someone I'm not, and to play nice with people who grate on my nerves.  But I really just don't know. 

Frustrated with David's students for being stupid and apathetic.  Frustrated with myself for being stupid and apathetic and knowing better.  Frustrated that I have no idea what will make me happy. 

I like my music and my headphones and my books and my husband and my kids.  Threw in the towel today and watched a movie with kids upstairs, on a couch!  Pleased to be able to do so. 

Had my head down for so long, I need to find a new purpose now that there's room to breathe.  There's legacy work to be done.  Do I write?  All the townrats are grown, and teenagers today can bite me, and my Lost Prophets have gone down the drain.  What do I even have to offer anymore?  Angst I should have outgrown?  The mindhacker theory no one believes in but me?  My family of friends has grown distant and broken.  We've all become so...ordinary. 

Tired.  Weepy, and not sure why.