Black Nights, And Words We Write

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Do you ever just get exhausted from being dark and in gloom and doom all of the time? I’ve noticed a pattern lately, and it reflects in every expression that comes forth from my spirit. The way that I write, the facial expressions I make, and even the way I view others. Still, I can’t seem to break away from it. It’s as though it is a part of my body. A part of me. Here’s the thing though, just because I write this way, or view things in a gloom setting, doesn’t mean I’m always feeling that way, or living with the lights off. I’ve just never really been able to view things or people without seeing some darkness.

I guess it’s like a little girl who loves their favorite doll. They won’t go anywhere without it. I am the same with my darkness.

I think it’s beautiful. Exquisitely divided and different from how others see things, and that is really special when you can offer up another dimension of vision for others. I love when other’s views and expressions do that for me as well. Like reading the most adventurous of books, closing your eyes, and escaping there into its pages.

If you can open yourself up to seeing things from someone else’s viewpoint, oh the places you can go without ever needing to move.

So, I say that to say, sometimes we, as writers, go through long periods of time where a lot of our writing and thoughts seem to breed from the same place. Sometimes, it’s just who you are as a writer in a season, and sometimes, it’s just who you are.

Every reason for it is freedom, purpose, individuality, and it is ok.

The War Torn Mind

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I wanna dwell in war torn streets, where my environment fits my chaos. That’s the way I see the world. Scavenging for basic necessities. Giving up on the mainstream fruits of life so the pressures of that life leave me. A dented can I feel like, kicked around as someone’s fun game, and even in that, I feel as though everything will seem like home.

I saw two dogs today, stray I suppose, playing their hearts out in the middle of nowhere. I remember saying to my daughter, “Look, even in someone’s saddest of times, and lowest of seasons, they can find a reason to be happy, even if only briefly.” I’m not sure if I believed it as I was even saying it, but I wanted to. And more than that, I wanted her to.

She told me that she didn’t know what it was, but at the beginning of fall, and the cold season, and the beginning of spring, she always felt nostalgia. As she drove us home, she asked me if I felt the same. I nodded my head as I stared at the sunset and a single tear secretly dripped down the side of my face that she could not see. I thought to myself, and then told her, “you know, I haven’t gotten to enjoy many sunsets in a long time, because it’s always me driving these roads, but it’s your turn now.” I leaned forward as much as I could, to bask in everything it had to offer. And I thought, I don’t have to pay anything for this. It’s free, and right now, it’s mine.

The pressures of making right for her seem too much at times, and yet, here I am; still dragging these heavy feet along. But I always think about it, a life without this trailer. Maybe some coffee over a fire, with the grounds still floating in it. Just the dusty streets and the forest. No sounds of cars and traffic, or people talking. Just a search for a little bit of food and water to forage, and a place to lie my head down in hopes that the next day will be just as quiet and bring blessings of portioned substance. A life that truly matches the chaos that fills my being.

Still, she pulls the car into our driveway, and we have to get out. I carry the little bit I afforded at the store, and try to smile and at least appreciate that she got the 2 yogurts she wanted, and I am sitting here now, writing, and also dreaming.

I don’t let myself dream beyond much more than these things. And it’s not that I don’t feel I deserve more. I don’t feel beyond that at all, not for myself at least. I’d be lying if I said I don’t for her though. I do. For me, I don’t allow myself to miss or envy things I’ve never experienced. What a sham that would be. I sit here now, paint severely chipped on my nails, stringy hair, and shoes on my feet that have walked many years with me. Yet, I’m content with these things for me, for now. I don’t want for more, but I never get far past the present day I sit in, and what challenges await me there. Day. By. Day. Never beyond that. If I could plan tomorrow, the seed would be empty of it, and unsafe for my focus.

My daughter teared up talking to me today. She told me her boyfriend was off shopping, spending $500 gifted to him by family. She was heartbroken that she herself, could not be afforded days like that, and never really has. Trust me, she has been gifted many things on Christmas and birthdays, for years to count. However, I knew what she meant. I couldn’t even buy her a thrift store shirt right now if I wanted to. My contentment for myself, is not the same as my contentment for her. I, in the face of her 15 years, have failed her greatly. I haven’t given up, but I say it out loud because I accept it. My hope is that someday, she could find a way to be proud of me for something. I hope I accomplish that in my lifetime. It’s on the top of a very short list of things I want.

I feel that one should dream the dreams of the kind of spirit your mind connects with. It may not be fancy things, or a lavish lifestyle. Maybe it’s just simply dreaming that one day, you’ll just simply be…okay. And that will be a freedom that will be more than this world could ever offer in things.

Leather Face

I think tonight, just once, I won’t look at myself. Each glimpse, like a dagger in my heart.

I looked in the future, just a dim light. Those I love, falling around me like the years I’ve viewed, seemingly, fleeting.

Each wrinkle on my skin, like pieces of leather, and yet, I have hated the sun all my 36 years. I’ve mostly lived not knowing the kinds of losses others know. For you have to have things and people first to truly lose them.

But now, oh now, the two people I’ve loved truly, melt before my feet while I scrub their kitchen counters hoping, by some chance of rare fate, they will come back to me. But alas, the local news screams in the background, and they, in their weakness, drool on themselves while dozed off on the couch.

My grandma tried to put her pajamas on over her pants tonight, and stumbles on which day and month it is. And for the 13th time today, told me how precious I am to her, and cried. If only she knew, her brown eyes turned blue, had saved my life more times than a few, then maybe, just maybe, she’d come back. But they never come back, do they?

She called me the other night, over and over. Standing at her medication as if frozen on repeat. Did I take my medicine? So it’s…Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday….. and today is..Wednesday? Over and over, I had to explain to her. And I did so, with patience. The next day, she remembered just briefly calling me and cried again. Gave several excuses as to why she just didn’t have a good day that day….

I am constantly reaching. Most times without knowing exactly what I’m reaching for. As if even if someone handed me a star right out of the sky, it wouldn’t ever be enough. A void never able to be filled. A dis-satisfied piece of blob of mere existence.

I’m not angry, and have forgiven most of the causes of my sadness, but they have taught me hard lessons. Ones that will long stick with me, following me, constantly reminding me the paths not to go down, the choices not to make, the people not to trust, what to hold onto, and what to let go of.

Sometimes, I want to jump in anyways, but there’s always hesitations, reservations. The truth is, I find that there are many nights I find it hard to look at myself for many different reasons. I think it should tell me something, but have not yet pinpointed its message just yet. But I’m sure in time, it will reveal itself. And I will record it on my shadow to lug around with me to display spiritually.

I will watch as the grands disappear before my eyes, and in that, I will learn to accept what we can’t keep. And how to truly say goodbye, for the first time, to someone I don’t want to say goodbye to.

Cry of the Blackbird Pt. 2

pawpaw and us

March 2020, my grandfather, still in rehab, watched and listened as the world began to crumble. A plague of sorts, not his first of course, had began to ravish the United States. All the while, my sister and I panicked. We begged my mom and uncle to remove him from the nursing home. It no longer mattered to us that his time in rehab since his hospital stay had not yet reached the 21 day insurance order.

I had already began to see the nightmare that was happening in other states to long-term living facilities, and rehab facilities. They were the first places to begin to be locked down. The patients, like prisoners. No visitors. Families that were lucky enough to have loved ones near a window talking through glass. Confused and mentally disabled patients not understanding why their loved ones or visitors wouldn’t just come inside and sit for a while. Then, like a catastrophe, as one elderly patient got sick, therein followed 10-20 more getting sick. All locked inside with each other. Most facilities such as this, seemingly left to their own devices. CNAs and nurses within the facilities pretty much locked inside with them, their only care.

The days started to go by. Being high risk, I was the first to tell my family, and especially my grandfather and grandmother that I could no longer visit to protect myself and my daughter. It was devastating to me. For years, it had just been myself, and my sister when she was in town, taking care of my grandparents. And there had already been turmoil come between us and everyone else once my Uncle had gotten Power of Attorney.

Everything seemed to be like something out of the twilight zone. A dark cloud of sadness in slow motion. My grandfather’s health seemed to improve. The doctor’s decided to release him. It had already been 2 weeks since I had seen him at all.

On his last week in the rehab facility, very intimidating health officials showed up with orders. They locked down the facility and no longer allowed anyone inside, with the exception of close family. My grandmother faithfully had one of us drop her off each day. She had to have her temperature checked before she could enter the front door. And even after that, the officials would decide if they wanted her to enter.

Finally, one day, my mom and uncle arranged and ok’d it for my grandfather to leave. It was as though the grace of God worked his favor on us, because as soon as we got my grandfather home, the next day they began to lock down the facility completely, just as all of those facilities we had heard nightmare stories about in other states.

We were blessed to have watched such a turn around in my grandfather’s health. He had went from shaking like the tremors of an earthquake, and severe memory loss, along with hallucinations, to back his normal self by the time we got him home. Although, even that is not 100% because he’s 91 years old with Parkinson’s Disease.

In the months since, we have seen a tornado of change. Sacrifices by the plenty. Weeks at a time not being able to be in the same room with the grands. Depending on who had possibly been exposed to the virus.

I think at first, back in April, most of us wanted to believe that this virus had been blown out of proportion, even myself, the hypochondriac that I am. However, it didn’t take long for me to fully convince myself that this was the worst. In comparison with the Spanish Flu, dated in the 1950s, this was our depression.

Around May, my grandmother’s mind seemed to deteriorate with intensity. And her complaints about roaring in her ears also intensified. Her balance was not great, and had not been great since about August of 2019, because of Vertigo and Meniere’s disease, which is chronic. This year alone, I can’t count the amount of times I have thought to myself, is this hell, or the twilight zone??

Because of an extreme fear of birds, mainly fearing that they will defecate on me, lol, I’ve also thought it strange that the thought had to cross my mind that a possible slew of birds were taking over my grandparent’s brains. Crazy yes, but after having them my whole life, and now quickly seeing that disappear right before my eyes, I can’t help but not dismiss any excuse I can come up with to explain to me why they have to go one day.

At the end of May, I decided to visit them through their front door, like visiting a prisoner, wrongly convicted. I had them come to the door and sing Amazing Grace with me in harmony, and had my daughter video it. It is something I regret not doing more when they were in better health, but also something I will always truly cherish. Music is something so expressive in my family, like a letter you’re writing that you never quite finish. And no matter how old I get, I can close my eyes and remember being little and waking up on Saturday mornings, the whole house filled with the smell of bacon and eggs, and hearing my grandparents in the kitchen singing and harmonizing with each other. It is one of the memories out of my dark, harum-scarum childhood, that I will always cherish the most.

I consider myself to be quite a strong person, to a point, but also quite vulnerable at times. Looking past my fears of the birds for a moment, I can’t help but admit, I want to hear them. Even if just for a moment, I wanna know what they are hearing and feeling. And I want to take it from them. I want to see my grandfather working in his shop in the back yard again, or sneaking a dip in the laundry room. I want to see my grandmother laughing so hard at me that she cries, cackling. I want to see her understand when we are making a joke, and for my grandfather to even be able to hear me at all when I am talking to him. My mind stays in chaos trying to discover ways I can bring them back around, even though deep down, I am also trying to find a way to let go and accept that what they are now, is what I am blessed with for however long until their ailments worsen, or til they’re gone for good.

Most people think of cardinals as the spiritual presence of a loved one, but as for myself, I follow the black birds, hiding so I see them, but that they may not see me. I will always see them as the loved ones who are screeching around us, decade after decade, generation after generation, watching us succeed, watching us fail, watching us grow old as they did, and waiting for us to one day, join them…

Independence Day

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You grow up hearing adults and even strangers talking about focusing and doing things to set in motion a future of “independence”. But there are dark sides to that conversation that they don’t have with you. Because unfortunately, it is things you have to learn through experience, mainly failures.

I think everyone reaches a point in their lives where that feel worthless, useless, un-needed, alone….

Maybe you feel unwanted. And when people tell you their problems, you think to yourself, “are they serious?!”

The truth is, independence only really truly begins when we come to the realization that when we look in the mirror, the person staring back is the only real true person we can count on.

Being co-dependent is a myth. It’s not possible without conditions that normally destroy a relationship. Someone could offer the air from their own lungs while you’re suffocating and then later, ask to cut down all the trees in your forest as repayment. There are costs to every handout you receive.

True, raw compassion is a liar. Humans aren’t truly capable of raw, unequivocal emotion. There are layers of needs buried inside of beautifully wrapped present.

But growing up, the things you hear about independence aren’t completely untrue. You really do need to listen, focus, and prepare for the future.

Even love won’t do it for you. And those you think will help you, they go away, they grow old and forget, or they pass on from this world. And you are left with that one person staring back at you in the mirror.

I do not write this to be negative. Only to be revealing of the revelations I have come to in my own life.

Definition of independent:

free from outside control; not depending on another’s authority

Depending on others is like a prison you can’t seem to escape. It’s why adults try their best to prepare us, to dump us into this world. It is a cruel one. It’s as though you go into a battle, and even if you return, you return with scars unimaginable. Battered, bruised, and never the same.

And there’s finally that defining moment in your life where realization takes hold, and you enter the final faze of life where each decision you make affects the next one and every blink of your eyes is more important than the one before.

It’s why a lot of people stay in relationships and marriages that are not happy in. Because they don’t allow true realization to take hold out of fear. They never learn to live a life that is truly their own. Two becomes one, because one feels like a half on its own.

My advice is, no thanks on that. Break free, release others from your path. Take hold. Breathe. Look in the mirror one more time. You’re staring out at that cliff of independence, there’s a breeze blowing across your face.

Now, close your eyes. Run. Jump………

Sometimes Goodbyes are Silent.

my life

You can go your whole life and think you know someone. Hell, you can go your entire life and think you know yourself. The truth is, humans are everchanging. We are weak creatures. Even the seemingly strong. No matter what breed of human we are, we have human emotions. They are cruel. They are sorcery. Truly. And they will constantly lie to you.

Every time I get by myself, I try and contemplate choices I have, emotions I have, even people I have. It’s hard. Truly, you have to admit to yourself that no one is ever there right when you need them. And if your life has been a struggle, such as mine, no one is there…ever.

But when you live a life such as that in a constant, you learn to cope with those facts. Your choices revolve around what you can do to move forward. Not what other people can do for you. And it can be beneficial. Sad, but beneficial. Lonely, but after each struggle, rewarding.

We pay for the things we create. Chaos, pain, sadness, etc. No matter how much time goes by, we pay. We burn bridges, and I mean set them afire. Watch them burn with smiles on our faces, and then years later, wish we could cross over them one more time. We are selfish beings.

As parents, we raise our children, all the while destroying them. Turning them into next generation selfish humans. We try and protect them, so much that we harm them. And sometimes as parents, we give up for a moment, thinking they would be better off without us. No decision we make seems good enough. And their smiles are sometimes only in pictures, no matter how much you tried to make it different.

We begin to believe that this world is not for us. Period. Plain and simple. Giving in seems like a freedom we’ve been searching for our entire lives. We don’t tell anyone, but sometimes in silence, we dream of closing our eyes and maybe sleeping forever. We look at that child. We don’t want to leave them, but this world is taking them from us. Our own foolish mistakes and mishaps have taken them from us.

So, when we kiss them goodnight, or talk on the phone, we hold onto that moment. Just in case. Just in case we go and sleep in peace for a little longer than normal.

Their little faces replay over and over in our minds, and every day, sometimes every minute, is a choice to keep fighting for them.

So, we woke up today. We may only be existing, but we are awake. And the fight goes on. And we’ll put that goodbye away in silence for a little longer.

Children, no matter what, take heed, we carry a love for you that you will only ever understand if you bear a child yourself. And love is not always easy. Smile once more, for it is a reward we look for in the darkest of moments. And we are counting on it.

Bottomless Bottom

woman in white dress falling on gray concrete floor
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This period of transition and heartache in the current era of my life is a definition of cruel that I have never experienced before. 

They say before you can climb to the top, or realize that you even need to, you must hit a “rock bottom”.

It’s crazy. Because my life has seemingly been a serious of these horrible bottoms. Each one a little bit worse than the one before. Only, all the ones before now, were only bottoms where I sat at the bottom of the hole alone.

This one is different. It’s like I had multiple people chained to my ankles and when it was time to fall, they were victims of circumstance.

There’s two ways I could view it….

First way….

Someone has my life on a bottomless pit repeat, kind of like the movie groundhog day, and these bottoms have no seize..

Second way..

One day, after I am drug through the mud, suffocated, and drained of every tear I am capable of crying, there’s is one amazing top I am going to reach.

I pray for the latter. I actually yearn for it. I am so tired. Truly I am. I do not know how much I can withstand. I won’t say I can’t withstand anymore, because the truth is, I have literally been beaten, sexually assaulted as a child, raped more than once as a teen, homeless, isolated, unloved, stripped of everything I had more than once, cursed with what seems like an unloveable soul,  and I have seen dark things that I can’t explain.. nor would anyone believe even if I tried to, and recently, almost lost my daughter…… yet I am still here.

I suppose God or fate is not done with me yet. I don’t know what lies ahead. It scares me whatelse I may have to withstand, and honestly, it will take strength I know that I don’t currently have. But I know that I want love to be involved, even if I do not fully understand all types of it. The love as a mother, I fully embrace and experience, but the love as a lover is one that I have always yearned for, but never fully grasped. But it’s been clearly depicted so far, that the latter is so far, not in the works for me. I pray that when and if it is, that that lover will dream of me, and we can meet on this battlefield with our white flags, embrace, and never…EVER again let go.

Until then, I’ll light a candle at the bottom of this hole so I can continue to dig out with some slight visability, and I will try my best to focus on the things I am digging for.

History Repeats Itself

me and little journey

 

It’s so crazy. You wake up one day and your life is still what it was when you were a little girl. Unrealistic expectations and constant disappointments.  I dream so big but my hopes are homeless. I often wonder what I keep doing….or the lack thereof of what I’m doing to keep these feelings constant. And the worst possible feeling to have is feeling as though you have passed it on to your children. Constant defeat. Constant want. Constant disappointment. WHY. And how do you change it for your children? Even if it can’t be changed for yourself?

What do you do when you wake up one day and your child has no confidence, is socially empty, and has no friends and you can look at her and tell that it is destroying her? How do you fix it when you yourself are suffering from these ailments????

Did you do this to her? If I did, I hate myself! I wish she could see what I see:

The most beautiful, intelligent, talented, hippie spirited, individualistic, humble, old souled, strong……..

And then I regress because there’s also another side I see of her. Broken, abused by kids her own age, used by kids her own age. They don’t see what I see. Why do they reject her??? Why do they abandon her? I can only blame myself. It has to be me. There’s no way they are judging solely based on her.

Please someone tell me how to fix it??!!! I’m driving myself crazy trying to fix this and figure this out! I can’t make friends for her. I can’t make her social. And truly, I don’t really want to change her if it’s who she is……

I’m a lost mom. I’m a lost woman. I’m a lost soul. I have filled myself with sorrow, anger, pain……and alas, I’ve spewed this venom over my precious daughter. Can I go back? Oh I wish I could go back. To change it.

Do other parents know how horrible their children are? Do they know how horrible their children treat children like mine? Is it wrong that I hate them? God I hate them! My daughter has suffered everyone surrounding her’s transgressions and she has deserved none of it.

I hate social conformity. There’s nothing I hate more. There’s nothing I loathe more. But I do have to ask myself is it easier to conform so our children are happy and not broken? What a horrible world for that to be true. But alas, I have tried conformity. Honest I have. I tried making friends with the softball moms, the cheer moms, the girl scout moms, the jacket sing-sation moms, facebook moms, church crowds………..NOTHING WORKS!

Do I have a sign over my head that says……….DISEASED?

And because I am her mom, she suffers……………………..

These things are all I think about from the time I wake up….to the time I don’t sleep……..

God help me. God help us…………………………..

The Downfall of Raising Polite Children

road landscape people woman
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Most of my whole life, I have been immensely affected by the actions of other people. It has made me an angry person. It has made me internally have hate for most every person I come across. Externally, I am polite, respectful, and an all around good friend. However, I am only this way because I was raised by passive people who never stood up for really anything. That’s about the only thing good I got out of it was learning to be polite. But internally, I boil. I am only that way because I truly feel that not really any one person has good intentions. I feel, because I have been hurt so many times, that most every person has a different motive than what they’re putting out there.

Luckily, it pushed me to want to raise my daughter a little differently. It made me want to mold her with a few different parts. I have taught her to be polite, but also brave, and to understand that everyone is different. I have been straight forward with her in telling her that there are evil people out there. People that live for hurting others. Most because their parents are also assholes and because they are taught sometimes through family tradition, that they are better…which they are not. I have always spoken with her about bullying, and how horribly wrong it is. And the truth is, I have taught her that we won’t put up with things like that and I want her to stand up for herself to every extent if it ever happened to her. I won’t lie. I have even told her that bullies deserve to have their asses kicked. Normally if they get their ass beat one time, they think twice about saying anything to you ever again.

With the confident, wonderful child that she is, I never really thought I would have to deal with that with her outside of that conversation. Now that we’re in 5th grade, things are a lot different. Earlier this year, this little boy cussed in class and the teacher pulled my daughter aside and asked her did she hear it and of course, my daughter didn’t lie and replied yes. Well, that made the little boy angry. He waited for all the class to be walking in the hallway and came up beside her and whispered, “I want to stab you to death”. Of course when she came home and told me about it, I could not just sit by and do nothing. The way things are in the world today, you can’t take anything lightly that people say. Because the truth is, kids do bring weapons to school and they do outrageous things. The principles got involved and he was punished with severity.

Yesterday, I get a call from the bus driver who was concerned for my daughter. There are two 8th graders that have been bullying her and other students came forward to the bus driver and told him they felt bad for my daughter and told the bus driver the two boys names. The bus driver plans on following through with the principals on Tuesday to make sure that the boys are severely punished for what they have been doing. However, the other students that came forward were also concerned for my daughter’s well-being. They said they also overheard her say that if those boys didn’t leave her alone, that she was going to kill herself. When I hear this, it makes my heart sink. It makes me want to wrap her up and never let her go. It makes me want to find these two boys and beat them till they’re not moving!

When we confronted our daughter about what was happening, we did it with the utmost sincerity in order to not push her away. We wanted her to understand that we are always here for her and to never ever keep anything like that from us. To always come and tell us when something like that is happening. When we asked her about the part where she said she would harm herself, she denied it. Just like I knew she would. We told her that she would never be in trouble for something like that. We would never love her any less, and we only wanted to be able to understand her better. We only want her to be able to come to us with full honesty and openness and know that we will always be on her side. Nothing worked. She told the truth about being bullied, but would not talk about saying she would harm herself.

By the end of the conversation, I was crying, she was crying, and we had agreed to believe her in saying that she did not say she would harm herself. I couldn’t believe I was having to have this conversation with my almost 11 year old. My heart was broken. My heart is broken. I am angry. I am sad. I feel defeated. I just want to know that she doesn’t feel sad. I just want to know that I am doing everything a mother can do to be there for her daughter. I just want her to never feel as though she is alone in anything. Because she is not. I want to crowd around her and never take my eyes off of her. But I can’t do that. Somehow, I have got to find a trust that I have taught her how to make good decisions and that I have taught her that she is loved so much by so many. I want to find these children’s parents and beat them. I want to beat their children for stripping my daughter of what little bit of innocence that she has left. For showing her just how ugly this horrible world can be. For showing her assholes come in all ages.

I will focus even more of me on her from now on. I will continue to ask her everyday…How was your day? Did anyone hurt you? Has anyone mistreated you? Are you happy? And other people will probably continue to be assholes. But in my prayers, and as a mother, I have to believe that she will be strong. She will continue to be amazing, wonderful, and smart. She will excel and one day be on top of the world looking down at how pathetic they are. Because they spent so much time being evil that they made nothing of their lives. And we will stand together smiling. Because we made it. We are a family. Not broken permanently by people that don’t matter. Words are just that, words. And we will conquer this. These individuals will mean nothing to us. They try to tear us down, but we only get stronger. She is young. She shouldn’t have to feel this way. She should be completely happy, but that is just not the way the world works. It is a cruel place. It is full of cruel people. But we, together, will survive it.

Where Do I Fit In?

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I get so tired of pondering the same question inside of my head! I have became emotionally spent in so many ways, that I don’t have time for anything else in my head. The only positive ways the New Year has affected me is I have began to focus solely on my daughter. She is the only happiness I feel. I get up in the morning now, and she actually allows me to cook her breakfast. (It gives me purpose) I do it, even when I don’t feel good, or am so tired that I don’t want to. She gets herself ready, asks me how she looks, and of course, she always looks so beautiful! When I look at her, it is the only time I feel I have a purpose. Was she the only purpose for my life? Maybe. If so, I have became completely content with that to an extent. However, I feel like I am missing something. All I do is stay in my sweat pants all day and smoke cigarettes.  I am ashamed.

I feel ashamed for my husband to be married to me. Truly I do. Some days, I just wish he would ask me for a divorce so I could spare him living out the rest of his life with me. But he doesn’t. He just keeps loving me. There are things I ask of him to change to make our marriage happier, more manageable, But things that I ask him to change seem to keep getting worse. I know one thing for sure, Love Is Not Enough! It never was. It never will be. You see, love is an action. So many people forget that. They think love is a feeling. Feelings will lie to you! They are most of the time a figment of our imagination that we worked up for that moment. That’s why action is so important. If things are constantly staying the same in your relationships, even if it’s good, then there is no action, no futuristic planning, no hopes, no dreams, no goals. There comes a time where you have to look at that and think, well, this isn’t working. Do I want to be complacent in my life? Do I want to move forward? I know I do! But I just don’t know how. And in a marriage, I will tell you at least one fact, you can’t move forward without the other half! If they are complacent and unwilling to move from that spot, unwilling to budge, unwilling to admit fault, unwilling to listen when you are sharing a feeling, then my friend you are in an actionless marriage! You have to ask yourself: Do they know what love is? Do I? Am I admitting faults? Am I doing my part? Am I working on myself enough? Am I encouraging this person in positive ways? Is there anything else I can work on?

Something I have learned on a personal level is to stop telling people outside of marriage any of my problems. Even when you are there for them wholeheartedly and give them your undivided attention, they don’t want to hear you. Eventually, everyone turns on you if you share too much. They show their true colors. You will feel abandoned and even less  fulfilled than when you first shared with them. You will see sides of them you wished you never did, but you will also be glad you did because it’s a great lesson learned. I am closing up. Because you see, I never have been that kind of friend to let someone know that I am tired of hearing their same problems. I pay attention when someone has chosen me to confide in. I do not turn my back on them. I would never take someone and beat them down further when clearly, they are already carrying around immense pain. But not all people are the same. One thing I am is honest. If I am having a day where I just don’t think I can handle anyone else’s stuff, I either don’t answer the phone, or I have even told that person that I am dealing with a lot of stress or that I am feeling overwhelmed and ask them politely to not share their debacle or struggle with me on that particular day. I make sure they understand, however, that I love them and I am not trying to hurt them in any way. Because people have not treated me the same, it is hard for me to continue being this faithful friend. I have become alone…inside myself, where I feel safe. I have regressed. I want no interaction with anyone. I do not wish to share with them ever again. I feel like a business closing it’s doors. No more.

I am trying to pull out of this hole. Because in this hole, everything around me is falling apart. I don’t know where I fit in, but I know I won’t let someone else decide that answer for me! I won’t let them take what little bit of direction I have left.