Winter blues

Despair sinks into my bones

Slowly but surely

Like winter’s chill.

Every year it’s the same,

And I hate it.

 

I take every precaution.

I wrap myself in comfort

And make sure I get enough food and sleep.

I allow extra indulgences.

I try to keep communication lines open.

It’s not enough

To stave off the darkness.

 

My body grows leaden,

Exhausted and heavy.

My mind is buried in snow.

Everything is too much.

My give-a-damn breaks,

And I just want to sleep until spring

Or forever.

2020 update

Things are going fairly well, but I feel like everything that was settled is up in the air again or will be in the near future.

We may have to move.  If Matt gets out of jail and moves to Logan, we will.  But I don't know if he'll get out, and then I don't know where he'll move to.  But I can't/won't subject my family to the possibility of running into him at the grocery store or Grandma's house or wherever.  I need them to feel safe.

If we don't move, I probably want to change jobs.  This one is a dead end, and it's frustrating even on its good days.  I don't want to lose the proximity to David and Kyle, or the flexibility of hours, or the pay.  But I'm tired of beating my head against a wall.  I don't know what I want to do, though.  Something with limited humans, a steady stream of work, and where I can listen to music.  I know I've got to find something to do this summer for work while David finishes his book, but I'm not sure about that, either. 

David says he wants to go back to church, but then makes no attempt to follow through.  He's so depressed, and I think going back would make it worse. And then Rachel decides she's (mostly?) gay.  And I can see how well that will go over at church functions, or with grandparents who are all holding onto the church as their emotional lifeline.  While the church may work well for a lot of people, I think it would be currently damaging to my family in multiple ways. 

I do not want to visit my mother this summer.  I know I probably should go help her, because we didn't go last summer.  But AAFLSKDJASDLF.  She drives me crazy. 

I'm tired and I want to go home.  I want it to be spring.  I want to work part time and spend the rest of the time at home.  Sigh.

"My stomach hurts."
"Why?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"....."
"It's just that seeing his picture makes me feel sick."
"Oh."

Saturday afternoon errands

"I thought I was going to do something stupid, like take all the pills in the house.  That's why I called you.  When you showed up, I immediately started to feel better."

Because basic needs have not been met for so long, she's this black hole that sucks everything in, needy and starving for everything.

I'm exhausted.  But I get to come home when I'm done.  I have a home.  It's filled with people I love who love me back and don't try to  hurt me.  I hugged my husband, sad and grateful and teary-eyed.  It's time for some downtime to refill my bucket.

I dreamed about you last night.
I'm not sure how to feel about that. 
I miss you.
I shouldn't miss you.
You're a danger to me and mine,
but like an addict
I can't let you go. 

I miss being able to miss you
without feeling guilt
and self-hate.
You crossed a line,
and I can forgive you,
but I can never trust you again.
We can't even be friends.

This family got gutted,
and it's your fault.
Yours alone.
So why do I miss you?
Because ten years is a long time,
and sixteen years is longer,
and there's nothing to fill the void you left.

I miss you, you stupid shithead.  This annoys me to no end.

Happy birthday, Dad

You would have been sixty years old yesterday, but you didn't make it that far.  I thought a lot about what to say, and what my feelings are.  I do miss you, having you there to talk to if I need you.  But I don't miss worrying about you and what you might be doing to Mom at any given time.  I anticipated that phone call for years.  When it finally came, it was met with relief that the fight was over.  You died in your sleep.  Not a bad way to go. 

I wish you'd been in less pain.  Physical and mental and emotional.  You had a crappy childhood and made it as an adult in the best way you could for as long as you could.  And then you gave up, it seems.  We had that meeting at Jen's house where we agreed you were trying to drink yourself to death and there was nothing we could do about it.  Life had gotten to you - too many peoples' problems you felt you couldn't fix or handle anymore.  You didn't want to play anymore.  I can relate to that.  But still.  I wish it hadn't played out as it did. 

I wish Mom would stop telling me she wants to die.  It hurts so much.  I feel like she doesn't think we're worth living for.  I hated her as a teenager when she said it.  "Only the cat loves me, and it's taking all of my willpower not to take this entire bottle of pills."  As an adult, I understand better. She can't see beyond her pain.  But dear God, no one wants to hear that your mom wanted to die when she was pregnant with you.  Unwanted from the first to the last. 

I know it'll take at least a few years for the emotional turmoil to die down.  I didn't really take time to mourn.  Nobody cares if I'm sad; they need me to keep functioning.  I need to keep everything going - house, school, kids, work. At work I have lots of time to think, but I haven't come to any conclusions.  Mostly I just worry. 

I worry about Mom dying.  Every day she lives is a bloody miracle that she didn't get in a car wreck, or take too many pills, or starve to death, or stick her head in an oven.  I worry about my in-laws dying.  Syd's the only dad I've got left, and he's 70.  I worry that since I take after Dad more than anyone else that I'll die young, too. 

I guess I just wanted to say happy birthday, and I wish you were here, but healthy and stable and sane.