sigh

I want to write tonight but I don't feel like I have anything to say that anyone wants to hear. Part of that is my ongoing battle with depression that I am currently losing and the other part of that is not feeling important to anyone, for any reason. Yesterday was Mother's day, my favorite holiday of course, with me having the best of Mother's and you know, having all the kids and stuff. Yeah...Mother's day. I am trying to be a better person to force a relationship with my mother and it really isn't working out so well for me. That is the funny thing with relationships, you can't force them. You can nurture them but you can't force them. Forcing a relationship makes them become weird and lord knows I don't need anymore weird.

I am finding that a lot of my relationships are forced. My relationship with Tony is forced or has been in the past. It is hard, you can't make someone like you or desire you. Or want to be with you. You can't. I want to. I have tried too but it just doesn't work out the way I think it should. I end up hurt and confused and well, the other person is still an ass. What is there not to like about me?

I have a hard time with relationships anyway. I don't trust well and when I do trust it always is the wrong person. It is a catch-22 for me. So, recently, I don't listen to my heart or my head and just don't trust anyone. It doesn't really work out but it is all I have at the moment. I am too hurt to do anything else and too stupid to fix my problem. So, here I am at the beginning again. Hurt and confused.

It's hard to put into words that I just want to be someones important somebody. Like their 1st choice. And I am not.

My life the crisis...

Yeah, yeah the title is dramatic. Don't like it? Well, who the fuck are you and why the fuck do you care what I title my blogs? Are you the blog po-po? The foul-language Nazi? My mom (btw if you are my mom, my blog title will be the least of your worries)? I guess what I am saying is I am kind of at a point in my life that I am tired of trying to please everyone while I remain horribly miserable. It is time, time for me to make some changes. Now I know, I get all fired up and decide I am going to change, it lasts about a week, a day, 10 mins and then I am back to my old games. Well, I am sure at this point in my life if I don't change and change soon I am going to die. Like prob not die die but more of a personal death. I am afraid of this death. I don't want it. I am so full of hate and anger and confusion. I struggle daily with everything. Like literally everything is a struggle, shit that shouldn't be a struggle just wears me out. I don't care about myself or anything right now. I am mean to people that don't deserve it like my hubby and my co-workers, both of whom are insanely understanding most of the time. Bad thing about a shit attitude is sorry only works for so long. So, we are back to shit has got to change. Like yesterday. It has to change.

Change, what am I going to change? Well, I am going to write. I plan on writing. I want to write. I need to write. I am sure there are going to be things that I write that is not going to make people happy and I am sure that a lot of the writing is going to suck. But, I think perhaps writing will invoke a change. I am optimistic about writing. Writing tends to soothe my savage beast.

Hang in there with me, my friends, as I am hanging in there for myself. Things will be better. I am going to leap out of my box, perhaps to leap back in, but this hate has to go. Hate is not welcome anymore in my life. I don't think this will be easy and I have to let it go...goodbye hate. Hey, hate, wait, before you leave, will you take a some bills with you? I don't really like them either. Oh yeah and maybe some fat off my ass? It's not really doing anything for me, so take all you want.

Grief, exiting stage left

I lose, I have lost, I am lost, I am a loser. Lost, lose, nasty four-letter words. I have lost so I am lost. Ugh. I am in a mess these days. I have stuffed and stuffed and stuffed, did I mention stuffed, my grief down for as long as I can. And all this stuffing has become un-stuffed. I am a grieving mess.

A word on grief. According to Kübler-Ross model there are five stages of grief. For those of you not familiar with the stages they are labeled as denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Five nice, neat little stages of grief that anyone who has had a psych 101 would be familiar with. Well, you know what? Fuck those stages. Fuck them right in the goat ass. I suppose you could say I am in the anger stage of my grief and just for the shits and giggles how's about let's add a good dose of depression. And you know what. I am angry about it. I am just so damned angry. I am angry that I have to go through the motions of living every-fucking-day and I am angry at the people that ask me stupid questions. I mean who-the-fuck has the right to ask me how long my husband has to live? I mean who does that? It's my husband. I watch his decline. How dare you ask me such a question. How dare you!

 And does my grief stop with the chronic illness that is my husband? Oh hell to the no. I am dealing with the grief of all the loved ones I have lost. It makes it pretty handy that all of their birthdays are between March-May. That was one birthday comes and goes just in time for another. Yeah for convenience in grieving. Damn life. Damn grief and dammit. Also, added into this mess is my birthday which (yeah I hear you rolling your eyes) I grieve for all my mistakes. I grieve that I am not who I am supposed to be. I grieve for the loss of my youth and my health. I am a damned grieving fool.

So, I am sure that perhaps I should give a go at seeing a therapy, again, I mean I only failed at it once. And hell, I like to fail at shit at least 60-70 times before I give up. I might be a lot of things but I am not a quitter.

Fluid and other buildup

I have so much to say and I don't know where to start. Part of me thinks that I share too much and the other part of me thinks that if I don't share I will explode. So, I will just start and share and hope that I don't explode because exploding (unless in a intimate way) pretty much sucks.

As everyone that speaks to me in person or reads my posts knows that Tony remains ill. There is no cure for his illness. It will only progress. This is part of life. A really shitty part of life. I guess you can be optimistic and live everyday as if it is your last or you can mourn that your life will be shortened. Knowing that you will suffer in pain and all that suffering will be for naught because in the end, you will still die. You can have hope and reach out to others for comfort. You can have religion, spirituality and peace. Or you can flop around hopeless and lost. I hope that you can choose peace.

Tony, well, he is lost. He can't find peace. He doesn't believe in peace, actually. He doesn't believe in a better place or of a God that loves us. He doesn't believe in much, really. Just that life is full of pain and suffering and people sucking. He embraces this belief, in fact. He will say why put out any effort when people are just going to hurt you, they are going to leave you. They are people I tell him. They are imperfect, petty and self-absorbed. They will lie and cheat and steal but you have to embrace those moments that don't suck. Those moments however fleeting, of happiness and joy. Those quiet moments of peace. But, my Tony, my love, you shouldn't put hurt back into a world that is already full of more suffering than it can possible stand. You put out this hurt and pain and expect rainbows and butterflies. Where does this make sense? What are you thinking?

Tony is pushing everyone away, I think. I assume. I guess? Either that or he is a huge dick with nothing to lose. I want to think he feels that things will be easier if everyone hates him or has been hurt by him? Those are my thoughts but with that pushing he is saying and doing things that is not acceptable. Today he tells me he doesn't love me. He can't love me. When I cry he yells at me. So I withdrawl. I am a raw shell of a person. I didn't think marriage was supposed to hurt. I say, "Tony, you are breaking my heart". He says, "I don't understand what you are saying". Really? Twenty-two years we have been together. Twenty-two and you have the balls to tell me you don't think you love me or that you can love me? I know, my love, I know that you are ill. I know the outcome of life. But I also know that you shouldn't treat people the way you have been treating them. You can't hide behind the excuse that you are sick.

Marriage advice and other nonsense...

The last few days have been trying to say the least. I have actually cried so much that my eyes hurt! They hurt. Who knew that eyes could hurt from crying?! As you all know, I have had a horrible case of the blues for about, well, about 37 years now. OK, maybe that is pushing it, do babies get the blues? So, lets give me at least a good 32 years, sound better? Happy now? OK, great. Why all the tears? Has tragedy hit the house of blues? Umm, nope. Just the crazies and in case you didn't know crazies+blues= crying.

The holidays are not the best of times around here. I still mourn the loss of my grandparents and mother in law. Tony, well, he hates holidays and all things that revolve around anything that involves the mere glimmer of happiness, so holidays have always been an issue. He actually did well this holiday season, I was the one that had worn myself to a frazzle, so worried and caught up about how he was going to act or not act that I made myself sick. Sick dammit, what kind of asshole worries themselves sick? If something doesn't change I am going to be dead before I am 40. And my gravestone will say, "Here lies a life wasted, Worried instead of participated." (pure poetry, right there...) I don't want my gravestone to say that, hell, I don't really want any gravestone, well, not yet anyway.

But on to other things. If you were a friend of my hubby on FB, you will notice that he has, yet again, deleted his account. Why? Well, who the hell knows why. I am sure in all his ranting and raving he gave me some sort of reason that didn't make any sense but I have learned to turn a lot of that off. I have to or I would lose my mind. There really isn't that much mind left to lose. It is very hard to live with someone who is mentally and physically ill.

Oh yeah and on to the advice! I forgot I had advice, it was good advice even. But I can't seem to remember the advice!! Damn. Oh yeah, listen more than you talk and hold on to the good times. They will be what gets you through the bad. Or some happy shit like that...

Bedsores and Bullshit

Today is the 5th day I have lain in bed most of the day. We are talking at least 18 hours if not more a day, in bed. Not sleeping, just laying there, no TV in my room (not that I would have the oomph to turn it on), no reading, no talking, no nothing, just laying in bed. Dozing at times and having weird dreams about my worse fears but mostly we are back to the just laying part. I do make sure to flip and flop every little bit as not to get a bedsore because damn I really wouldn't want to explain to my non-existent family Dr. (long story) how I managed to get a bedsore. The conversation would be brutal: Dr. Non-existent "umm and why are you here today", Me "umm, I have a stage 4 ulcer on my ass", Dr. N.E. "how did you get a stage 4 on your ass?" Me "well I haven't been out of bed for 5 days or so" and well, the conversation goes to hell after that. I have been to the Dr. before and been like "Dude, I am depressed" and they just look at me...like looking at me helps my depression. "What makes you think you are depressed?" Well, you stupid unhelpful asshole the fact that I can't drag my stupid ass out of bed for more than 2 hours at a time and I cry all the fucking time and never mind the sighing and feelings of worthlessness. I am a walking commercial for an anti-depressant. Hello! And then the Dr. says in all doctorly fashion, "have you considered therapy". To which then I fall over dead from the brilliance of that suggestion. Or from the stress of thinking about how well me going to the therapist went last time.

I really hate my depression. I don't like wallowing in self-pity. I don't enjoy being all up in my head about things. But I really don't know what else to do about it. It is not as easy as just snapping out of it or any of that shit. Love yourself or live in the moment or it is what the fuck it is! Well, to me it isn't and it is hard and I know logically that I make life more difficult for myself by wallowing in my pity party. But wallowing is what I do best.

I can't, I can't and why can't I?

I suffer from the I can't syndrome. Not familiar with said syndrome? Well, let me let you in on it, you just might suffer from it, too and lord knows misery loves some company! I can't syndrome is the voices in your head (or sometimes even out of your head) that tell you, you can't do that, whatever "that" may be for you. My "that" varies from "I can't walk that far" or "I can't stand one more day of this shit". It has became the mantra in my head even invading my sleep at times. Well, most of the time. The voices in my head are not kind to me. They are full of self-loathing and doubt. They are full of questions that have no answer and they are full of "I can'ts".


In reality usually when the "I can'ts" come out it is because I am feeling insecure, unsafe, overwhelmed or just not good enough, so pretty much every-fucking-day I wake up alive (damn, how much would it suck to wake up dead? Talk about a crappy Monday). They start as soon as I open my eyes "I can't get out of bed" then make it to the chair for a "I can't go to work tonight" then to work "I can't do this one more night" then again to home for a "I can't walk in this door". Now, usually, I make it out of bed, to the chair, from the chair to work and back from work into the house. Repeat on any given day.

A rather unhelpful family member used to say "I can't did nothing". Seriously? Well, I can't all the damn time and I do stuff. Sometimes, I even save people lives. So, where, am I going with this blog today? Well, I dunno really. Just wanted to say to all the "I can'ts" out there, that in reality, you aren't an "I can't" you are an "I can".