a masochists memoir

"Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?" - Charles Bukowski

i'm not sure if its my 40s or if its perimenopause, but I've been having a lot of memories come in from my earlier childhood.  memories I wasn't sure if I had anymore.  unfortunately, they are not so much good memories, but memories that i'm picking up on that were really, actually, kind of fucked up.  maybe not fucked up to the point that I think that I had it as horrible as some, but still contributed and shaped who I am today. I shared some with my sister, who is younger than me so she doesn't have my earliest memories - its funny, when the universe picks out your younger sister, sometimes you think that they've been with you your entire life, even prior to theirs and they love you more than you ever thought possible.  

she cut her hair when she was little.  little little, maybe 3 years old.  I was supposed to be playing with her - keeping an eye on her, my mother made sure to scream at me when I was called into the bathroom where she'd taken the scissors right up the backside of her head.  I was at the age that I was beginning to have waves of wild emotions I had no idea what to do with - the first death in my family had happened and I was in 5th grade.   I had no idea what to do with the grief - which I didn't know was grief at the time.  in not knowing what to do with it, I wasn't sure who I was. 

I carried a heavy guilt for not watching my sister and hearing my mother sob as she said that I was supposed to be watching her and that I had let her cut off all of her beautiful curly hair.  that night, I wrote my first suicide note and took a large amount of Tylenol that I found in the same bathroom she cut her hair in.  I made it until morning - waking up with a stomachache that i'd never experienced before and I vomited over and over, just piles of white globs over and over.  I did this several times before I switched and had a brilliant idea - at least what I thought was a brilliant idea - i'd bleed the pain out.  I'd get rid of it and let it seep out my skin.  I took my mother's razor and tore it apart, hid all of the pieces except for the razor, I kept it and started with the front of my shins first - going from ankle to knee, over and over again until I had my entire shin covered.  i remember it was getting warm outside and I asked my mother for knee high socks - the ones that are white with the stripes at the top.  I needed something to cover my shins during physical education and when I was wearing shorts.  I didn't tell her that but she did get me the socks for Easter. 

this was the beginning.  (while having this memory, I had the realization that was why I never had my older kids watch the younger ones - especially at that age.  while they are older now, they are self sufficient so its not as stressful as it was before - panicked and never asking one to keep an eye on the other - always telling my ex husband that he couldn't do that to them - it was too heavy if something went awry) 

around this same time - I was struggling to make friends.  the friends I did make were not acceptable to my parents - my dad would even suggest that I try to befriend a girl in my grade that was part of the crowd that was not so nice to me.  my dad was on the fire department, along with her dad.  she wouldn't give me the time of day - i compared myself to her frequently over the years - thinking if I could be more like her that maybe my dad would love me more.  maybe my parents would let me be happy, maybe they wouldn't be so cold.  

I continued to cut myself and steal my mother's razors over the next several years.  once I was old enough to drive, the friends I did have would buy me cigarettes, I had a lighter, I still had the razors.  I would keep the lighter burning as long as I could hold the button down, get it nice and hot, it left little eyes on the insides of my arms, from wrist to elbow.  I would be driving down the road - deep in thought - angry at myself, smoking a cigarette.  when it came time to put it out, i'd put it out in the same area, squishing the cherry into my skin and letting the embers fall around it.  

I never reigned that back in.  I continued with Tylenol, continued with the razors, continued with the cigarettes.  I ran with the "wrong" crowd, I had close friends but was always afraid that they'd leave me - a strong feeling of abandonment that i've carried my entire life.  I had a few dates here and there, nothing serious.  one day in the fall, I had a date with a man who was older than I - I was still in high school and he was his early twenties.  he picked me up and we went to dinner, I never let on to my parents his age.  I knew if I had told them that they wouldn't let me go.  I only told them at a high level, he was cute and a pastors son at a church in town.  this gave me their well wishes.  we went to dinner and afterwards, he said he had something to pick up at his parents church - forgot his sunglasses.  we got to the church and I thought I was waiting in the car - thought it would be a quick grab.  he invited me in instead and I went.  we got inside and he grabbed his sunglasses, asked if I wanted a tour.  I hadn't grown up in church - just occasionally on holidays, nothing consistent enough to explore the inside of a church without a congregation present.  it ended up being a tour that would keep me on the same path I was on - a self destructive one - he had me in the basement but wouldn't turn on the lights.  I tiptoed through the dark with him, he led me to a classroom.  soon we were kissing (i'd only kissed two other boys in my life) - it kept going and I felt like I was in the clouds.  he was moving too quickly for me, I wasn't ready - he said I was.  pushed me to the floor, pulled my pants down to my ankles, started thrusting while I was struggling, his hand over my mouth and slapping me in the face when I struggled too much.  he was thrusting so hard that it pushed my head into the table leg - my hair, my hair, the only thing I finally had control over - caught in the caster wheel of the table.  when he was finished, he pulled me up and I felt every hair that was pulled out with that caster.  

I kept this a secret for nearly a year.  I kept on with what I could control - my hair cuts, my hair color, the razors, the cigarettes, sleeping in the bathtub hoping i'd sink and never come up.  one night I thought I had a hold of that control, I went thru the house and took every single pill I could find and then I took them all.  I started to fade when i got scared.  completely terrified, how could I leave, what if there was more, what if I could be who I was when I was with my grandma or who I was when I was with the close friends that let me be myself? who I was when I was sometimes alone on a good day - carefree, happy and you'd never know the struggles.  I went upstairs and told my dad.  he woke my mother and we went to the hospital.  everything was a whirlwind from there, was this the ticket to my downfall?  

activated charcoal and some sprite to wash it down.  a transfer to another town and inpatient.  I was inpatient for almost 3 weeks.  I got in trouble for barking at the cleaning lady who would stare at my bright, midnight blue hair so that got me a ticket for a couple more days in.  they finally let me out on a day pass to spend with my family - intent was to do something fun, instead, my mother had me at the salon getting the blue stripped out of my hair.  the stylist couldn't get it all out - I was left with a blueish green hue with bright blonde Barbie hair.  my curls weren't what they were.  

while I was inpatient, my parents tore apart my room.  they found my razors, lighters, cigarettes, and most importantly, my diary.  they read every single page.  then they got on the family computer and found my online diary that was on one of the first anonymous social media platforms.  I had wrote anonymously but they found my login information.  they printed off pages and pages - those detailing the church tour - and took them straight to the police station.  I didn't know until I got out of the hospital that they had done that - my heart sank lower and lower, I couldn't believe it -  they'd taken my "private" words and spewed them to the cops.  

they brought him in for questioning.  he denied, denied, denied.  there was no physical proof - it had been almost a year.  my parents told me that the detective said he finally asked for a lawyer and he couldn't proceed.  I didn't care - i wanted my diary back, I wanted those printed anonymous pages back, I wanted what I wanted for me.  

I turned 18, graduated high school and moved out.  I found myself a little efficiency apartment, took my favorite little farm cat and started to meet people that were functioning adults similar to me - some of my people in the wild.  within that year, i called the police station, told them I wanted my diary back.  Surprisingly, they said I could have it, I just needed to come and check it out of evidence.  

thankful to have my words back, I kept them close.  anything I wrote on paper I kept just as close, I didn't want anyone to ever find my words again.  I still wrote online - changing my username when I thought someone was getting too close, closing one account to open another. running, running, running.

I still struggle with this quite frequently - honestly, in reality though, i'm grown enough to tell them to fuck off, I just have to find that little voice inside that will let it be said out loud.  thankfully, I've had a friend that has taught me a lot about that over the past almost 5 years.  i've been able to be mostly unapologetically myself which is not something i've had with someone that has stuck through it.  even though I do still hide some of my demons from him, because some are too much to let anyone know - in reality, he wouldn't bat an eye and he'd still answer me the next day.  I hid lots of parts of myself from my ex husband, from my kids, from my parents, from my sister.  

i'm tired of hiding - on the other hand, i've seen the ramifications of not hiding.  i'm still scared, still feel like I am looking for something that i'll never find, still wanting to hide away.  

I just want to be who I was before the world told me who I should be. 

oh how bukowski articulates things that I see in me that have always been there, I just hadn't paid attention. </3   

i'm snowed in.  thankfully at home, with electricity and internet.  not so thankful for my brain, my heart, those feelings you feel in your inner core that make you want to throw up, scream, cry, you know - the ones that hurt you real bad.  I would leave those out in the cold if I could.  maybe bury them alive in the snow, let them slowly freeze to death, little icicle thoughts - they almost sound cute.  they're not and by now they could have probably built a cage or a fort around me - each a different shade of blue, grey or white, all sparkling like I am some sort of ice princess (haha)

Can someone help me? Please help me
They say a broken heart can be deadly
Don't tell me we were meant to be
This is far from a fairy tale endin'

I went on a date Saturday night. I wasn't expecting it so I felt anxious. we've been online friends for a while, funny enough, he posted in a group on Facebook that he was struggling and I reached out to him and told him he wasn't alone. 

dinner went well, we came back to my house to smoke a joint. he stayed about long enough for that before he said he had to go suddenly. after he got home, it became that I was too intimidating. ?! 

I have a home, my bills are paid and I'm not a damsel in distress on paper. 

I told another friend, he said he could see that. he had also reached out to me about Saturday (distance keeps us apart, and I have more questions) I left a hideakey for him. I woke up close to 2am with his arms scooping me up and holding me so tight. he's held back on that, knowing it's more of what I crave and he isn't ready for me. I can feel it. but knowing I was asleep, I think maybe part of him couldn't resist. before I could fully wake up he had us making a mess of the bed before I drifted off asleep again, with my chubby cheeks pressed against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart and his breathing, something to focus on that felt so good. 

I can't trust him with my heart. I don't think that we are aligned in some things but I have daydreamed about it.

much like I've daydreamed about you. over and over again, hoping that someday you'll say you're on your way. or that you're getting me out of here. I often think that the day won't be here and I should be the one to close the chapter before you do and shatter my heart but I can't do it. 

I love you too much

i am tired of sorting feelings.  of sorting laundry.  of sorting anything much.  i've told a lot of people off lately.  you, I can't.  i've never had anyone stick around this long - not a new adult life friend.  I am still anxious about you leaving me.  of you disappearing, off the grid, what if you go back, what if you don't stay, what if you make the decision to go? are you going to leave me here, without you?  what will happen?  what will be the driver?  what if I want to go too?

you took the time to get to know me as a person, i'm sure I scared the shit out of you initially.  I could tell you were intrigued by me, my lifestyle, my everything.  it started slow, but steady.  I couldn't get you to meet me too quickly.  I would have met you the same day but I sensed what I thought was apprehension on your side, and of course, rightfully so.   

finally, we got something set up to meet.  I kept track, for quite some time, what dates we'd seen each other.  I only kept track the first year or so, until I felt comfortable that you'd come back because clearly, you showed up the first time, May 1st.  I saw you again after the 4th of July.  again August 13th, again October 16th, another october 30th, and the last I wrote was December 11th. 

on May 1st, I met you at my favorite place to cry.  I didn't cry though, you changed the narrative.  you got in and sat with me and we talked.  for quite some time.  you promised me a motorcycle ride and i'd never been on one.  it was a bucket list thing (thank you for helping me check that one off!) it was so cold, but I loved every single second of it.  and subsequent ride? maybe rides, i'm not entirely sure.  either way, I never, ever, ever not even the first time I met you and I got on the back, felt scared.  I am not scared when I know I have you or when i'm with you.  you can tell me every single demon you have, every sadistic thought or idea and at the end of the day, I would still look to you.  

I didn't know at the time that my marriage shouldn't have been what it was.  I didn't know that someone else would tell me, no, this is not normal, this is not how it should be.  I used to record my ex husband and i's fights.  I'd record them because he would say things and later say he never said them.  but i'd listen to every single word, over and over again and even made myself stenograph them, because I thought seeing what he was saying without his tone - just his plain words on paper.  I finally sent you a clip of what was happening here.  I needed someone else to hear it and tell me, is this how it is supposed to be?  is this how the rest of my life is going to be?  will it ever be quiet?

you said something along the lines of oh fuck no, or oh hell no, he should not be screaming at you that way.  in front of the kids - one day, he threw a house key at me, said to get his name off of this fucking house and my youngest said he'd have it be his house key to comfort me.  my ex would put holes in walls, break glass out of windows, bang his head on the side of the garage until there was blood, throw chairs at me, spit in my face.  one day he drove erratically with me and our 3 babies in the back - only 7, 4 & 1.  I had to call 911 to have the police pull him over so I could drive.  

I never saw my parents fight.  ever.  my mom said that she grew up with parents fighting and that she wasn't going to have that for her children.  so when the yelling started, when I was pregnant with our oldest and he threw a set of car keys in my face, I thought well, maybe that's how normal people fight.  maybe my parents were an anomaly.  I knew my grandparents fought. but i'd never seen any set of parents fight.  a therapist told me once, I didn't know how to handle it so I took all of the abuse he put out - that I didn't know how to fight because i'd never seen it, never taught the skills, if you will. 

I thought everything was always my fault.  he called me dumb.  he told me who to vote for - said that I was "particularly uneducated" in that department.  he wouldn't let me not vote at all - it caused a huge fight.  I got to where I did what I was told when I was told to do it and believe every single word he ever said about me.  

back to you.  you.  you told me that I was smart.  that I was kind. a good person.  and that I deserved better.  you convinced me that I was all of those things, things that I hadn't been told by a man in over 16 years.  I eventually figured out a way to get him to head out of state to stay with his brother for a while - once he was halfway across the country, I filed for divorce.  I was terrified to do it on my own.  absolutely scared.  but you assured me.  i'd be okay.  promised i'd be okay.  when I was spinning out of control during the whole process, crying so many tears I couldn't even begin to count them, you listened to every single one of them fall.  you didn't judge me when I cried so hard I snorted or had snot running down my face.  you were gentle with me emotionally and mentally.  supported me and spent hours on the phone.  I'd cry, the past would come out of my mouth and you'd correct it - you still do, even today, I said I was dumb and you told me to get that shit out of my head right now.  you brought me up. and still do.  I miss you in between times.  I miss you beating the emotions, frustrations, the "I need an attitude adjustment" squirm that burns inside of me, you'd beat it out of me and i'd feel relief.  like euphoria.  shrooms without visuals, a body high, time travels.  and to rub each and every part of me that was bruised as I fell asleep.  maybe some kind of subspace, even though I know I go somewhere else and I forget any and all of everything when you're using the paddle or the cane, your belt, or whatever you've chosen for the day -

you always ask what I want - I want your dark because you are my light. 

I need wherever it is that I go when I am with you.  I want to be there, not here.  not here alone, tonight, in my cold bed, crying myself to sleep and blaring ice road truckers so that the kids don't hear me.  you said i'll find him someday, I think I already have.  how I will ever move on, i'm not certain, I know I need to, i've said too much lately.  i've let so much of me out that I am afraid that you will decide that its time and that this chapter must be closed and I am simply devastated at the thought. 

I hope I sleep tonight.

So if leavin' comes to stayin' and you walk yourself away
Leave knowin' that no-one could love you more than me

“The past is a curious thing. It’s with you all the time. I suppose an hour never passes without your thinking of things that happened ten or twenty years ago, and yet most of the time it’s got no reality, it’s just a set of facts that you’ve learned, like a lot of stuff in a history book. Then some chance sight or sound or smell, especially smell, sets you going, and the past doesn’t merely come back to you, you’re actually IN the past. It was like that at this moment.”
― George Orwell, Coming up for Air

i am grateful, I am loved, and I am most certainly okay (thank you, I needed this last night)  

I just need to go around chanting that, I believe.  a mantra if you will, lol.  

I really need to come up for air.  I need that -  especially the smell, the one that takes me back to the past.  I want to smell home, I want to go home, I want to know where and who is home, I want to go back to times where I felt myself, where I felt like I had invigorating things waiting for me.  where I felt loved and cared for, appreciated.  I have hopes that someday i'll be cherished. 

I had a taste of the past rush back to me recently - someone commented on my writing.  it's been a long while since i've blogged on the interwebs.  I had a situation as a teenager, on one of the earlier blog sites.  I had something traumatic happen to me.  i let those feelings out and eventually, after a suicide attempt, my parents found my blog and printed it out and dropped it off at the police station.  they kept it as evidence, for questioning, until I finally felt strong enough to go and sign it out and have my words back.  it felt good to have them back in my hands after they were ripped away and taken from me without my consent.  

anyway.  his comments - i'd not heard in years for my writing.  he said to find something that i'm good at.  he reminded me that i might not think that exists but it does - he's right - i'm not always organized and have my arms wrapped around everything - nothing is ever perfect, but I am good at many things that i've started to try to enjoy again. 

I started with making a collage on my written journal (I'd been writing in it but I was scared to make it my own, with the fear that I'd have to stop writing again, plus identifiable as mine felt to be too intense) - I don't remember the last time in my life that I haven't had to worry about someone taking my words - using them against me, dropping them off at the police station, someone else reading something that maybe doesn't make sense to me but most certainly does for me.  I made it beautiful, with a lot of things that encompass myself.  i've had this notebook for 10 years, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make it something I could have for myself.  I have written babblings, blessings, pages of quotes I love, pages of lyrics that touch my heart, dirty deeds I have dreams of, fantasies I'd love to live out.  letters to people that they'll never read - people from the past and present.  I started with the journal out of all the other things because I need reminders of what good I DO have, so there's a page for everything and everyone i'm grateful for.  he said I need those reminders of the good things.  and I know I do, especially on the days that I wish that "home" meant death and that i'd fall asleep and just not wake up.  

next - I have lists of projects.  I miss sewing, embroidery, latch hook, woodburning, reading, working on Legos with my boys, puzzles, painting a bit - enough for it to be legible, lol.  I have a few of these projects already started, just need to get back to them again.  back to a happy me.  I have new projects that I won't start on yet - learning something new feels overwhelming in addition to already learning to self tie but soon, i have hopes that i'll feel ready to learn even more new things that I have stored, just waiting.  

i'm breaking up with the current therapist tomorrow and I believe that I have a new one already lined up. 

i'm working on eliminating stressors and focusing on these words: 

thank you, for seeing me stranger, wherever you are <3 

and for a self tie that I am perfecting - its odd - the feeling of safety, feeling of being held even though i'm not.  when I have time, it's been my safe haven thus far: 

(to preface, can't sleep, clowns will eat me (not really), i'm more than a baked potato and I've had double the "good" sleep medicine, seroquel, but still cannot sleep.  this has not been written in sobriety) 

breakfast hair puller tried to tell me another date again - he was moving out Sept 1, oct 1, Jan 1.  if I could just hold on until april 1.  I think he only got in touch with me because he saw me with another man.  he gawked at that but I had my gut feelings.  he has said dates before.  always with the dates and hypothetical questions. 

I finally told him that I am worth respect and that sometimes after a person does the same thing over and over again, they decide they can't do it anymore.  I told him I cant do it anymore.  I told him that i'd always be rooting for him and in his corner.  hoping that he finds the strength and self respect that I am looking for on my own self journey - to finally accept that you can't do it anymore and execute.  I raced from thought to thought before I got there.  I have a special place in my heart for him but really I think he only got there with the help of a mutual friend.  

speaking of friends.  i've got a friend that i've had since elementary school.  we had some years in there where we went back and forth, she was at different live stages than I was because she had her first child in high school.  most recently it was alcohol for our separation, I couldn't handle how mean she would be when she'd had Jameson.  but - she's sober now.  i'm so proud of her!  she is very introverted and didn't go to AA meetings but said one day she'd wished she had because she wanted the chips, so I made her chips.  after my ectopic pregnancy, I cut her out of my life because she was judgemental and mean about how I got in that situation.  it hurt that with what she said, she implied that she cared more about my husband's feelings than my own.  what she didn't know at that time that I was also really struggling with him caring about my feelings.  I felt very betrayed.  she was my best friend, not my husband's.  

I didn't realize it then but I think that is when the paradigm shift started.  it's not over yet, but I think that was the start of it.  oddly enough, when I got to the point of isolating myself, I ended up running into another friend from junior high at work.  we picked up where we left off and it was like we'd not had years of gaps.  we would say the same things at the same time.  our phones - they recognize our voices as each other.  we would laugh until we couldn't breathe.  inseparable.  everything was going great until we joined a lifestyle group - I think she had different expectations than what I did, boundaries i'm not comfortable crossing - and it ended in a fight after a party bus party.  we didn't talk for a very long time.  we finally broke the silence and were inseparable again.  picked up right where we left off.  everything was great, I thought.  she stopped replying to messages.  I wrote to her on every platform.  I didn't understand.  she started messaging a few weeks later.  I thought everything was fine again.  and then one day she messaged and said "i'm sorry, i'll always love you and I will never have anything bad to say about you.  you're great and I love you but I can't be friends any longer." that was it.  25-30 years of off and on, so many laughs and so many things we'd say at the exact same time.  she was my best girl friend.  and then she was just gone.  

I spent the next amount of time, filing for divorce, working thru things, my lighthouse guiding me along the way.  he was the only one that stayed.  he's still the only one that has stayed.  consistency, for I think around 5 years.  I needed him more than he will ever know or ever even comprehend.  my brain is complex and he would even sit on the phone with me even if it was quiet.  or if I just needed to cry.  he still does.  he listens to a lot of my tears.  he tells me the things that I don't want to hear but need to hear sometimes.  he listened to many tears , many sobs and so much grieving about my junior high friend.  grieving someone who is still living is the ultimate heartbreak.  

I ran into my elementary friend.  she hadn't heard about my divorce.  I hadn't heard she had cut out the liquor.  I hugged her and she stood there stiff as a hotdog like she has since 4th grade (she's not affectionate but will accept it from me most of the time, lol) i've already wrote about her being sober now.  we are peanut butter and jelly.  we spent last summer learning to kayak and went on hikes and also being in hiding, growing flowers, lavender, and feeling the grass with our feet.  

fast forward to this week because I can't have a normal life and I only got to masturbate once.  I did get to self tie a bit though and that was very exciting. and I got to swing outside with tricky spring in February weather.  

I heard from my junior high friend.  its been over a year and a half at least.  i'm not even sure to be honest.  i'm sure I could find some way to scroll back to see when it ended but i'm not certain I want to read that again.  i'm just coming over the grieving hump sometimes - grieving the marriage I didn't have, grieving the marriage I had, grieving my ex husband, my junior high friend, my best dog, and a med change all in the middle of that due to a careless psychiatrist.  i'm sure there's more because there always is and I don't remember everything or anything sometimes because my brain has boxed it up and carefully packed it away.  

I never understand the people i love that I think love me, leave me in such ways.  I just need someone to stick with me. someone I can trust with me, all of me, my stupid ponytail and all.  why do they leave?

I talked to a very bright man about suicide today.  we were talking about my daughter and he mentioned how suicidal ideation is very common to follow you throughout your life.  I told him that I knew because it is something that I battle because of my attempt, maybe attempts.  he is going to help me find someone new to talk to for therapy.  I tried really hard with the one I currently have.  but I told the bright man today, there is something nagging at me and I don't know what it is.  I told him about how the therapist was 20 minutes late and he said that just based off of that I needed to move on, especially by the 5th visit and i'm not feeling connected.  I worry that I am being resistant.  is becoming resistant to therapy like being resistant to some antibiotic or something?  i'm not entirely sure.  but i'd much rather be known as resilient for fighting the battles in my brain.  

You'll never live this life that I live
I'll never live the life that wakes me in the night
You'll never hear the message I give
You say it looks as though I might give up this fight

(never is a promise, Fiona Apple)

the last week has been incredibly difficult with lots and lots of turns, ups and downs, a metaphorical rollercoaster that never seems to stop.  I have finally learned how to self tie a chest harness but it only holds me for so long.

I want off of this ride.  I don't know how many times I have to say, please, please, please make this easier, make it just a little less than what it is, even consistency would be quaint - just a calm day in the 90s, riding bikes and playing in the creek.  calling to the universe, screaming at the sky, send some help.  

Tuesday, instead of my therapist falling asleep like the last guy, he was 20 minutes late.  20 minutes I could have still been punched in and working.  and then he still ended the visit at the same time, i'm sure because he had appointments behind me.  i'm struggling here, I like him, I want to trust him, but my gut just keeps scratching me.  nagging.  something's off about him, I don't know what it is yet.  do I keep paying to find out?  or do i just go on the run again and figure it'll catch up to me after i'm gone?

Wednesday, my oldest child announced at the dinner table - an appointment - for something hugely life changing, I had to meet it with disdain - she can't seem to take her mental health medication but thinks that she can handle something so hugely life changing?  where is her navigation?  her compass?  

Thursday, my ex called.  wanted to know if the school had gotten a hold of me.  no, they hadn't.  he said that they tried to call me 3 times.  our 12 year old had searched on his school computer for ways to commit suicide.  I wanted to collapse and let the dirt swallow me before I wanted to go to that building alone.  of course, I did.  I went straight to the school, crying, blubbering stupid, one would probably say immature, but emotions are hard to control when i'm the one behind the wheel of this goddamn tug boat.  I picked him up, I brought him home, I fired their therapist with anger in full force.  

I should have told the kids that we were staying home that night.  instead we went to the grocery store to get flowers for friends for Valentine's day.  at some point in time, there ended up a conversation between the kids and their dad, with my middle child telling him that all he knows how to do is scream and pay child support.  my middle says he never wants to talk to him again, I can see in his eyes, he's upset, he's sinking.  he makes me go back inside the store - he doesn't want me to see him this way and he wants the conversation to be private.  I kept waiting.  and waiting some more.  finally, I went out and I didn't even let him finish what he was saying when I took the phone out of his hand and told my ex that we were at the grocery store and no longer having a discussion right now, it was terrifying, every single time I stand up to him.  i had reached out to two friends I thought might be in the area to help come ground me, ones that say, if you need me, call me.  I called but neither answered.  more life vests gone.  

I was up several times thru the night making sure they were all still breathing, 127, 244, 408, 459 I got up for the day.  finally Friday.  finally the weekend, finally time to relax and spend time with family and friends.  

my oldest broke curfew and didn't show up on valentines morning, my mom mocked my hair.  I had a friend that wanted to come and see me - something out of the ordinary, I don't hear from him often.  I had a really great time with him and he took me out for breakfast Sunday morning.

i'm out for breakfast and dude that ghosted me for a month pulls at the back of my hair and runs off, he thinks he's funny.  I got a message from him later, apologizing over and over for his absence, says he has missed me, all the words I've wanted to hear.  

I should probably have told him to fuck off.  I still can and I still probably should.  today, insulting "hypothetical" questions, like am I going to be able to "handle" myself in a monogamous relationship? 

well. you know what? fuck you.  fuck you.  fuck you.  and fuck you too.  fuck all of you.  every single one of you and if you think i'm talking about you then you're probably right because you've said it too.  

I am still tired.  i'm not sure if anything or anyone is right or meant for me right now.  I feel stuck - like i'm spinning my wheels.  I don't feel like I really matter to anyone - even sometimes to my kids - I feel like I need to isolate myself until I figure out how to matter to myself as much as other people matter to me.  I try to do right by everyone and it hurts when its not returned.  I view the way people treat me as my self worth when I very well know that it should be the other way around. 

at the end of the day, when i'm trying to fall asleep, every single night I decide i'm garbage because everyone, eventually, will throw me away.  

"how much weed have you smoked this afternoon?" 

you know what?  fuck you.

i'm not sure why, I know that was the part of the conversation that probably made the most sense to you but it hurt me the worst.  we can talk about how much weed i've smoked, sure, but while we're at it, let's talk about my "high" pain threshold and how without the weed, my pain is nearly unbearable, I've got no one beating it out of me (including you), and it has nowhere to go.  I keep quiet about how much everything hurts because I grew up with a mother that has been in pain for 30+ years and i'm never going to make anyone feel the way she made me feel.  the way she still makes me feel. that helpless feeling when you can't fix something for someone else. 

btw it wasn't the weed.  it was my communication barrier, I thought you'd pick up on it -  because I don't know how to express how i'm feeling without feeling selfish.  constantly selfish when I would do anything, give anything, all of it, for you, for someone else.  i'm selfish.  its insecurities - finding someone better to talk to, someone who makes more sense - because that's all my life has been is one person leaving after another even if I push them away - I always expect them to fight to stay but no one ever does.  they let me let go, they let go, I let go and everything that was ever there before is gone.  

it might have stung a little too - that you weren't really looking for yourself.  and you weren't really looking for what you said in your initial message.  that's not how it turned out at all and truly wasn't your intention either, as it has come evident, or do I believe what I see?  and you clearly weren't really looking for me.  I just happened to reply and land in your lap. 

that sting turned into a wound pretty quickly.  she can come to your home and hang out - probably whenever she needs.  but I am the secret.  I can't come over on a Sunday night.  she's a known name, a known friendship, a known life.  she can go to parties with you, out to dinners and drinks and maybe dancing.  but me?  i'm sitting at home.  sometimes wishing for a life a lot different than the one I have now - sometimes wishing for no life at all.  

nearly 5 years and I'm just realizing that i'm a secret.  your secret tucked into your pocket because you can do whatever you want, right?  is that it?  you assured me in so many words but that doesn't make the wound feel any better.  there's salt and infection now, you said you'd figure it out and take care of it and we've never spoken of it again.  

i feel like you're part of the audience.  you know - that audience I talked to you about - people who really would like to move on but the series is just too good to turn off.  you only called yesterday to certainly talk about details of the party I forced myself to go to - that ultimately only crushed my self esteem even further into the dirt.  what an episode.  was it one that got you a good laugh afterwards?

time to turn the TV off.  who knows when the last episode will air, but probably in the spring, because who doesn't want to end the longest, darkest, heartbreaking winter by jumping into the water and sinking to the bottom.  the letters i've written, I'll gather bottles and take them with me when I jump, sending my last words out to float to see if anyone finds them someday. 

I wrote you a letter that you'll never read, but it'll be out there floating in a pendleton bottle - you'll know that's the one for you.  

“The world will break your heart ten ways to Sunday, that’s guaranteed.
And I can’t begin to explain that- or the craziness inside myself and everybody else, but guess what? Sunday is my fav day again”
― Matthew Quick, The Silver Linings Playbook

I am submissive in the majority of the areas of my life - some of those areas are beaten and bruised and screaming with hurt, why why why, over and over again - why do you keep doing this to yourself, why this, why that, when where why how? what?

Google AI says this regarding being submissive, which - AI - great, I just killed off more fossil fuels. 

Submissive describes a willingness to yield to the authority, control, or will of another, characterized by obedience, compliance, and often a more passive or supportive role. It involves placing one’s own desires secondary to another's, showing deference, and, in relationships, trusting a partner’s leadership.

the desires in my life are in the backseat, always secondary to others.  i am the last to speak up or advocate for myself in any situation.  I never want myself in the light, never want to show my needs, wants, desires, I just want to take care of everyone.  everything.  I am a mother after all. 

but being a mother and managing my mind, it often goes off to where it will wander when things are dark. 

it went dark yesterday. 

I felt tricked - I packed a bag - I brought all the things I wanted to show you, things I wanted you to try, things I thought would make you feel better and give you release, those things you told me to bring - I was so grateful to spend time with you because I always am and I know you're busy.  

and then finally, when it came time, we were almost out of time.  you gave me the breakdown of what we had left - I had to make the decision - I decided that we wouldn't have enough time to do everything and really, I just wanted to take care of you, I knew that life hadn't been kind to you lately and I knew that you needed the release.  

it wasn't until after I left that I thought my mind was connecting dots.  I thought you'd have me over earlier, with you asking me to bring things, I waited, waited, until I worried that it was getting too late - I got on my way.  i asked what time I needed to go, you said you weren't sure. 

then the playbook came out, this at this time, this at that time, an appointment at this time.  times that I wondered if you knew about prior.  my brain.  it wandered.  darker and darker.  i've looked at you as a lighthouse - my mind wandered farther and farther into the dark, there was no light - my own navigation lights are burned out.  my ship steered into a swamp - maybe you timed out things just right, knowing that I would defer, and you didn't really want to have me around as long as I thought - maybe you don't want to give me the impact release anymore - maybe this is something that you aren't interested in anymore, my mouth has taken precedence - my mouth and promised friendship.  I wish my brain wasn't like this.  I wish I wasn't like this. 

I didn't go home after I left.  my brain was too muddy, too mixed up and confused - I went to the river but it was frozen.  I didn't want to be like the jumper the community most recently mocked since the water was frozen.  an acquaintance said "man, what a moron, its dead of winter, the water is frozen and you can't drown in ice"  I wanted to beg to differ at the time - this person was not someone to be mocked - this was someone who thought they were at the end of their story or at least they wanted to end it.  I sat for a while, trying to process my thoughts.  the phone notification went off, my kids were on their way home.  I was grateful for the interruption as I was contemplating how I could make things work - disappear - run away - missing person? 

instead, again, in my submission, even to myself and my children, I decided to head home.  when I pulled out, I looked up and saw an eagle sitting at the top of a tree - I thought - how unfair it is to be a human, how I wanted to fly to the tops of trees so no one would hurt me, no one would be able to reach me or touch me - how I wanted to be able to fly towards the moon, have the best of views.  

I drove home.  talked briefly to the kids before they ran off to talk to friends and then I sat in the silence.  I waited for them to come back down the stairs so I could spend time with them, maybe make dinner together.  I sat in the quiet until it echoed with me sobbing, sinking into the bathtub.  I finally went to bed, cried myself to sleep with hopes that I just simply wouldn't wake up this morning.  it would be easier if it was unexplained or an accident.  I don't want to scar or scare my children, but sometimes at the end of my days, I don't feel like i'm even good enough for them - my brain shouting - they'd be better off without you, they'd be better off with someone else. 

I called out again today like I did yesterday.  so today, I am going to pretend that I care about myself in hopes that I can trick my mind to bounce back.  i'm going to take an hour to dip in the sensory deprivation tank (oh my how the salt will sting), maybe take myself out for pho (if the part of me that says I don't deserve food shuts up), and maybe go to the bookstore, because at the end of the day, maybe all I really have is my books, somewhere to go that isn't here, that isn't there, but somewhere in between.  

I started therapy.  I've had two sessions and we still didn't get thru the intake questions.  he emailed me the rest of the questions and I sent back the answers.  I like him, but I feel unsteady - maybe it's just because it's still so new and i'm still building trust with someone on that side of the "world" 

but 

i'm a bit distraught when I think about it too much.  I'm worried that he won't help me navigate things properly - I've heard about someone else's ship and i'm not certain that I believe I want him potentially guiding mine. is this where I stop?  before I get too far?  before I trust someone and then they betray me yet again and it's just this vicious cycle of someone pulling the thoughts out of my brain that i've boxed up and kept to myself - and then they disappear?  

i'll wait for him to fall asleep.  because it'll happen right?  

about the time he passes out, i'll pull out patch's speech - if I could light my own farts I could fly to the moon, or at least uranus. but if I couldn't do that at least I could use my penis as a pogo stick...and that might be a way of getting around. test to see if he's really listening.  or if he's awake.  (I don't have a penis, but if I did, i'd be doing the helicopter before I used it as a pogo stick)

I haven't unpacked much, with just getting thru intake questions but those questions are still a little deep.  maybe just skimming but skimming enough that he knows more about me than I feel like he should already. 

When I was a girl I would look out my bedroom window at the caterpillars; I envied them so much. No matter what they were before, no matter what happened to them, they could just hide away and turn into these beautiful creatures that could fly away completely untouched.