Shattered

Is where I’m at right now.

I’m past the being able to verbalise it stage. Theres so many people I could talk to while I’m down here, so many old friends who I know would happily put their lives aside for me right now, if I could be honest about where I’m at.

Where I’m at, is fucked. I can‘t think of one thing that would make it better. I was supposed to be here 2 nights, 3 days and I’ve been here 8 nights.  I feel scared to go home.

I’ve pretty much run away.

I can’t get out of my own head though.

So I play beach cricket with Bailey while tears build behind dark glasses.  I grab nothing but his hand and we walk barefoot over the dunes, and I’m grateful for the simplicity here.

Craig comes down, we argue horribly, round and round. I eventually snap, mentally, and everything is fuzzy and I’m scared of myself. I feel like I might get some relief if I can get out of the house but he won’t let me.  I realize what I really want, at that moment, is to die.

That is fucking terrifying to me, I know exactly what suicide does.  I’ve seen it close up, in minute detail and I don’t care. 

Obviously, I’m still here.

If there was someone I could leave Bailey with, that would raise him in a way I am comfortable with, I don’t know if I would be.

I wasn’t even thinking of that at the time, but that’s my mindframe today.

Anyway I was upset enough to snap Craig out of his fucking bubble, and that is saying something.  We sit on the balcony while I sob and claw at my skin and try to quiet the rushing in my ears.  Eventually I’m quiet and outside of my mind and I can think in abstract coagulating thoughts.

He promises me everything will be fine, we’ll work out.

We make love and I come back to myself a little, my whole body aches as I drift off.

I wake up to him kissing my forehead and saying he’s going to work, and my eyes have filled with tears before I’ve even opened them. He didn’t ask if I was ok, left me alone with Bailey when I’d been totally off the fucking wall just hours before.

I lie there until I realise I really can’t make the decision to get out of bed, try to call Craig twice, he doesn’t pick up. Bailey gets up and I start feeling a little panicky but it’s still not enough to motivate me.

I tell Bailey he can have biscuits for breakfast and he comes and sits in bed with me, getting crumbs everywhere, and I don’t care.  I think desperately of the beach, horses, I stare at my child, and drift back into sleep for another 2 hours. When I awake I’m ok, fragile, but I think I want to live. 

I’m scared now, knowing that can change.

I get up, walk to the fridge and dump a jugful of icy water over my head.  We go to the beach and draw in the sand and I feel desperate, and I don’t want to be anywhere.

 *****

When we return, there’s 6 missed calls from Craig. I can’t bring myself to call, but we text a little the next day -today- , I tell him how I’m feeling, how the only time I’ve felt suicidal is over his behaviour, that I’m feeling pretty close to the edge and he still argues. I end up saying that this isn’t worth Bailey not having a mother, that I love him but won’t engage with him until something major changes, and asked if all this would matter to him if I was dead.

Melodramatic, I know.

I guess he should, be happy, he’s gotten what he seemed to want, an open non-ending, where nothing is resolved, and he can comfort himself with the knowledge that he was ‘still trying’ and that I’m clearly the one with mental instability 😉

x

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I don’t write

about everything. Obviously.

Same as I don’t talk about everything.  I don’t think anyone does. 

What I do write, though, is painfully honest.  And yeah, it’s self-centered drivel, but I don’t care, my blog.  And I don’t like to put up alot of other people’s lives up here; just because I find it liberating to write whatever where anyone can see it, doesn’t mean I should impose that on others.

And some stuff is too confronting, too boring, too traumatising, too whatever.

People still judge though, on what they read, or in ‘real life’ on what they see.

And my god, it pisses me off.  But I’ll write more about that later.  I just seem to be copping it a bit lately, from people who have not much idea of what is going on with me.

No-one has asked if I’m ok.  If I need a hand.  If theres something I’m not telling them.

It’s like people just assume I’m acting screwy for the hell of it.  And that hurts.

I’m past feeling like I owe anyone an explanation at least.

So far past it, I’m just about at WHITE HOT MOTHERFUCKING RAGE.  Really, where the HELL do people get off assuming my life is easy, just because I can (usually) keep my shit together just enough for public appearances, look after B-man and go to my very part-time job.

I just…can’t seem to get to what I’m trying to say…

I’m sick of being judged, but I know nothing I do is going to stop it.  I never thought me seeming sick, would make people assume pretty much everything and anything other than that I’M ACTUALLY SICK.  I must be a pill junkie, or an alcoholic, or just awfully selfish and lazy.

I shouldn’t have to explain myself.  And if one of my friends or a family member started acting not like themselves, I’d be worried, ask what’s up.

I certainly wouldn’t totally invade their privacy, for example by looking through their house and sheds while they’re at work, even going as far as looking through the medicine cabinet, and STEALING the most incriminating items I could find.

Which, by the way, was half a bottle of vodka and ONE cigarette. For emergencies.

HOLY SHIT I am a badass, get me to rehab!

I hope they feel like MORONS.  Because I have absolutely NOTHING to hide.  There is nothing on this whole property I could get in trouble for.

‘We’ve just been worried, you haven’t seemed yourself’

“OH, I haven’t SEEMED MYSELF after my life falling apart?? Imagine that! How about ASKING me about it?”

“Don’t take it so personally, you can’t blame us for looking into the situation, there’s Bailey to consider, and he hasn’t seemed that well on the odd occasion you bring him down, and he’s a bit thin”

“My child is fine. Thanks for your concern.  I feel really able to come to you if I start having a hard time handling life”

And that’s that, I’d say.

The concern over Bailey, that hurts though.  Because I fucking DOTE on that kid.  I’m not the most natural mother, hell, I was told I would never have kids so he’s kind of the surprise of my life but I LOVE him. I can honestly say he has never ever gone without.  For anything.  Anything within my control that is, of course he misses Daddy.

I looked at 4 different schools for him because I knew our local public wouldn’t suit.  I hate cooking, but I do it because I hate feeding him processed shit.  I love hanging out with him, and he is the sort of kid you can take anywhere and know he’ll behave.  He comes to work with me, and loves ‘helping’ put the horses to bed.

I love being a parent.  And I hate how defensive one comment has made me.

Family….

x

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I *may* be PMSing..just a little…

Ahhh, the whoremonal wave.

The last couple of days have been…awful….  I don’t think Craig will ever speak to me unnecessarily again.  “Oh praise the lord”, I hear you all chorus.  Let’s just say he picked the wrong couple of days to fuck with me.

So while we were together, Craig did something moronic, that I haven’t spoken about, or blogged about before.  He fucked over my dad, and without going into detail, my father isn’t the kind of person you fuck with. I thought he knew that.  He SHOULD have fucking known that.

My dad doesn’t know because I have managed to keep it from him.  I haven’t let Craig to forget about it of course, but obviously he hasn’t been doing anywhere NEARLY enough to rectify the situation.  Because you should never take actual responsibility for anything in life.

So the other day, I’m pmsing badly, due to start uni and our freaking old computing cracks it and pretty much screams “I CAN’T HANDLE THIS SHIT!!” Craig promised to help me with a new computer months ago, after pointing out that our old one was dying a slow painful death.  By help me, I just mean pick one and set it up, while I hand over the cash.  I start having the predictable mental breakdown, and call him for the long promised help.  After all, he said he really me to have a new one, so he could video chat to Bailey without it shitting itself every two seconds.

Anyway he says he’ll see what he can do.  I thank him profusely, and he says he’ll drop it down at my grandmothers when I am there so we can set it up.  Like two freaking minutes later, the phone rings, it’s my dad, of course. 

He’s suspicious about the situation I’ve been trying to hide from him, to PROTECT that uncaring PRICK.  I think probably faster than I have ever had to in my entire life, get off the phone and ring Craig practically hysterical.  He says he won’t talk to me until I calm down, I say how fucking retarded he is and ask how the fuck he can put me in this situation and then ask me to keep calm, he says please don’t swear at me.  Talk about missing the fucking point.

In the end I say, “Do you want me to tell him the truth?”

“Don’t threaten me”

“Are you FUCKING kidding me, I have being FUCKING protecting you for months, and you don’t seem to give a FUCK.  So help me think of something or he is going to know what’s happened very soon, whether I tell him or not”

It’s still not sorted, just postponed a bit.  I’m scared.

So I ended up at my Dad’s for dinner, with my brother (in name only), and I do not care for that shit, to protect his FUCKING useless ass. I texted him, told him what was happening, said I’d ring him when we got to my grandmothers.  So as soon as I pulled into the driveway, I ring him, and am actually NICE enough to apologise for being later than I had expected.

“Oh, sorry, it’s inside on the table, ring me if you need a hand”

Motherfucker.

So I drag my bone tired, cold infested, pmsing ass inside, bathe Bailey, get him ready for bed, let him skype with his awesome dad on my iphone, and finally try to set up the computer.  Of course there were issues.  Of course he didn’t fucking help.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t just help me with this, especially after what I have put myself through today for YOU”

“I thought you’d just be grateful I picked it out for you, besides I didn’t think you’d have trouble setting it up”

“Excuse me? When have I EVER been considered computer competent? You knew full well I would have trouble”

“I thought you had gotten computer-savvy in the last few months”

What the FUCK?  Does he think between crying in bed, looking after Bailey, getting cancer treatment, keeping his shit off my Dad’s radar, and oh, not to mention eating, sleeping and crying some more, that I have been taking fucking NIGHT CLASSES or some shit?!

It pretty much disintegrated further from there, and got worse today with him barely even acknowledging Bailey ringing him upset, saying he misses daddy.

I swear…..

x

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Fuck Him.

Seriously, fuck you Craig!!

Could kill him right now, seriously.  Fuck.

Really don’t know what the fuck his deal is.

So he came up, brought dinner, I pretty obviously feel, and look, like hell.  We put B-man to bed, sat down on the couch.

Silence, blank look, so I say, “what’s up?”

“Nothing, what’s up with you?”

“You wanted to talk”

“We don’t have to”

“I’m going to have an anxiety attack and possibly die if you don’t tell me what you wanted to talk about”

“OK”

-long silence-

“I just wanted to say I still don’t know”

That’s when I shot him.  Well, mentally.  But if I’d been holding a gun…

“Are you serious?” -very restrained-

“The dinners we’ve been having, I’ve enjoyed them, and I feel hopeful, but then I think what if it’s the same?  I was hopeful things were getting better, but then Thursday”

Backstory – Thursday we were having a rare chat on skype, about a new computer for uni which then led onto other things.  He was pretty uncaring, my feelings were hurt, I pulled him up on it. Same old shit.

“That’s the point, we have to commit to making it not be the same”

And it went on from there, I tried to explain to him that two therapists pretty much took the words out of my mind about his passivity in the relationship and it’s effects.  He got shitty, said he was leaving, I said don’t, don’t speak to me like that, don’tyou speak to me like that…

Blah, blah FUCKING blah.

Once that settled slightly, I brought up me and Bailey living here for the next year.  He says its a great idea and looked relieved. Of course that perversely pissed me off right at that moment.  But whatever, free accommodation for the rest of this year and all of next year, at least.

And, because I’m a total bitch, I hinted at the fact I’m seeing someone else.  I pretty much told him he’s being selfish stringing me along, and that it’s not just my opinion.  My therapist has said so too, well without actually being so direct, my friends have said so, you guys have commented to say so.

“Did you tell all these people that think I’m selfish, that I’m not expecting you to wait around?”

“Yes, I’ve told them the absolute truth about everything, you’re still being incredibly selfish”

“But I’m not stopping you from doing anything, or starting anything”

“Would you care if I did? Started seeing someone I mean”

“Of course I’d care but I know it’s not for me to say.  I’ve made the decision not to, what you do is up to you.”

“Well, you know, I get lonely.  I like male company.”

“What you mean like…physically…or emotionally?”

“Both I guess?”

“So what, are you seeing other guys?”

“Yeah, they’re beating down the door. I don’t know, I think it might be good for me to go on a date occasionally.”

“How would you feel if I dated?”

“Like shit, homicidally angry”

“But it’s ok for you?”

“Well it’s different, you have the option of having me back, as your wife, full time.  If I had your options I certainly wouldn’t be dating anyone, I’d be working on my marriage.  But since you won’t give me any kind of answer, won’t commit to working it out with me, I think you’re being kind of unfair to act like it’s the same situation.”

-angry but defeated look, grinding jaw-

“I guess I can see your point”

Anyway, I’ll stop now.  Just had to get it out. Before he left I reiterated how FUCKED-UP and cruel he was to let me stress over a conversation for a FUCKING WEEK for him to say nothing new.  He actually seemed to feel bad, says it won’t happen again.  BETTER FUCKING NOT.  Then I told him he needs help.  Again.

Ahem.

If you made it this far, seriously, thankyou.

x

 

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Positively positive

Yeah, I need to be more positive.  Or maybe just less negative.  I’m annoying the shit out of myself, let alone everybody else.  The problem is, I feel really really desperate in a way I never have before.  And yeah I try and hide it a bit when I’m talking to people but it seeps out.  And then sometimes I think “If you can’t handle me feeling like shit, just don’t talk to me”.  Because really, sometimes its just too bloody hard to smile and say “Yeah, I know things will get better” when there is absolutely nothing to base that on.

I know I will cope with everything, and I know I could cope with more (please god don’t make me cope with any more), but is it really necessary to seem happy with it?  And I only cope because it is the only option I have.  Not because I want to.

I know I’m not nice to be around at the moment.  Picture a feral animal, scared and hurt, snarling and lunging at the hands that try to help it.  That’s me.  Because this is the third time I’ve been told I need treatment for malignant tumours, and this time I am absolutely fucking shitting myself, and so terrified scared.  It is unlikely that I will die anytime soon from this, this time.  Everytime I come out of remission, the chances of complete recovery obviously lessen, and sometimes I just think, is this what my whole life is going to be? 

I have the most beautiful child in the world, and he makes things so much better, and so much worse.  Any mum will understand what I mean.  The anxiety I feel over Bailey is profound.  I never thought my marriage would fall apart so completely, and that I’d lose my health, within weeks of each other.  But if I can keep my son, and look after him, and nurture him and parent him properly, I feel like I can keep myself a bit too.  My grip on reality.  He’s my anchor.  If he’s exactly as he should be, I can cope.

Sorry this is all over the place.  Positivity.  I don’t feel like I can make more than a token effort at this point in time but I can appreciate things.  And I do.  Such small things affect me so greatly.  Dappled light coming through trees in the afternoon.  Bailey snuggling into bed with me on a cold morning.  Seeing my goats all fluffed up and curled together.  The smell of wood fires.  Green fuzz in the paddocks.  True friends who just accept me.

Just gotta keep on keeping on I guess.

x

 

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