Getting Out There

Chainlink Gloriousness

When I say that I’ve been out of my comfort zone, we’re talking continents have been between me and  my safety zone. In the past month, I’ve pushed myself out of the house, focused on my business, and tried to just get my inner self to a better, safer place. One that is stable enough to face a huge hurdle ahead of me.

I’ve also become……peaceful….with a few things. Like my husband. And men in general.

SO let’s break this down: I’ve been pushing to do projects and art with more people that aren’t in my immediate friend circle, and it’s lead me to connecting with people out of state. After a month of meetings, about 10 gallons of expensive coffee, and several anxiety attacks alone in my room after the fact, because holy HELL, socializing is draining, I am happy to report that I feel better than I have in a while, I’m starting to get more on the normal spectrum. I think I’m coming out of my dark place, finally.

My husband had a doctor’s appointment yesterday, and when we came home, and I put the toddler down for bed, I mentioned that I wanted to deep clean my office, and the downstairs bathroom (which was a nightmare) and get more organized, for my mental health, so I could think more clearly. About 10 minutes later, I get a TEXT (yes, a text) from him upstairs, saying he’s napping while the toddler naps. At first, I was so furious. I mean, the week before this, I was pulling all-nighters almost every night to ensure my projects were done in time, and he just gamed, and he got cranky with me for sleeping in a couple times the next morning–that’s a complicated, long issue. Ugh. And I guess I just felt like him having a doctors appointment that lasted 20 minutes wasn’t a legit reason to demand a nap.

Well come to find out, his computer is starting to fall apart at the seams. His sound card bailed, one of his video cards stopped work, and the remote desktop that we had going no longer works. It’s bad. Everything is crapping out, and it’s not a cheap setup, so if he wants to fix it, he kind of needs to get his poop in a group and finally find a way to bring in extra income, nah mean? Unfortunately, with no computer to game on, he’s mostly just angry. Surly even. He snaps constantly, complains that his “one thing” is ruined, and I have absolutely no empathy for him. So now, because he can’t game, he’s taken to napping constantly. It’s kind of an escapist mentality, isn’t it? I mean, if he’s burying himself behind games and naps, that means he hates his reality as much as I hate mine. Why can’t we just acknowledge that and fix it?

So I spent that time that he was napping to creating a comprehensive to-do list, and when it came time to talk about our budget, I made a game plan. I asked HIM to explain his wants for our money, and made a suggestion for each thing that he felt we should do to ensure we were stable, had a savings account, had a healthy business fund, and still could have a life. Unfortunately, most of his ideas were very self-driven….not family driven.

I never realized how much money tied back to the more emotionally unstable parts of our relationship. I resent him for not having a steady job in three years, for raking in 20K in student loan debt (that he’s not communicating with the loan company with, AT ALL, but no big deal) and for constantly losing his income at times when we desperately needed that stability. It’d always happen *just* as I got enough to invest back in to my business (finally) and he’d lose his job/flunk out of school/get injured/forget to fill out paperwork. Like, I don’t trust him at all to be able to consistently contribute a healthy income to our family, and that, my friends, is a HUGE deal breaker for me. I used to be HOMELESS. I used to not have FOOD, or a BED. So it’s absolutely imperative that I have stability, safety, and basics. And my husband doesn’t give a crap, it feels like.

After arguing politely about money for about 20 minutes, the conversation predictably started to turn ugly, as we unveiled and dug into deeper, more hurtful issues. He feels like he can’t do anything. At all. He stays home all day and takes care of our toddler, so, in order to compensate, (and this is his logic), he *has* to play video games every night from roughly 8 PM to 3 AM. You know, 5-7 hours of gaming every night. He apparently needs that in order to function. And then he gets upset that I expect him to get up with our toddler in the morning. But I’ve told him several times: Look, you’re not working, you don’t clean the house, you don’t do laundry, you can barely stay awake long enough to take care of our toddler, and you hardly cook anymore. So, I’m really sorry, but maybe if you constantly kept up on everything else, like cleaned, did laundry, cooked, etc.,  I’d respect that you would need to destress, but you just don’t do enough for me to work my ass off all day, work my ass off into the evening (because self-employment isn’t an 8-5 job, can I get an amen?) and then I go to sleep at a reasonable hour because I need that in order to function the next day…and then get my toddler up in the morning and take care of him while my deadbeat husband sleeps in. HE ISN’T DOING ANYTHING.

I sat through 20 more minutes of him getting mad because felt like he was doing more than I knew (he just can’t do a lot, apparently, because our toddler apparently stops him from even being able to fill the dishwasher, which makes ZERO sense, since I do it all the time) so that’s his justification for not being able to let our dogs outside, for not doing laundry, for not cleaning the house, nothing. It’s killing me. I don’t see those as valid reasons or excuses, and I’m frustrated because I don’t think he’s being fair with me, at all.

Suffice to say, it ended with me basically begging and pleading with him to not be a tool when we divorce, and to think about what’s best for our happiness, and for our toddler. This just isn’t working, you know? He needs to let me go. And I can’t let go until I know he isn’t going to try to hurt me legally and try to take my baby. So it’s a dilemma.

Otherwise, I’m alright. I’m focusing on my art, finding strength in relationships outside of my marriage, and spending time outside of the home in order to get a sanity break. It’s pretty often right now. I tried to take ONE day off, and fought with him the entire day, and he was snarky, and wanted me to clean the house on my day off, and do laundry, and basically everything he should be doing since he ISN’T WORKING.

Can I emphasize to him or anyone else any further that this man literally has almost NO responsibility beyond driving a car and ensuring our toddler doesn’t hurt himself? He isn’t exactly helping our toddler learn, nor is he willing to accept that we’re going in different directions, nah mean?

*sigh* So, rough recap: I’m doing better, this marriage isn’t really working, there’s moments where if I squint at it with my eyes mostly closed and just kind of look at it from afar, my marriage has potential. But once I start scrutinizing and looking at everything that happens and remembering fights and frustrations, I’m convinced we’re not working out well, and it needs to end.



When Dreams End.

d5e1ad1dSo I looked back on my posts, and was probably as disturbed as a stranger leaning in to read this would have been, with my infatuation with men. However, I’ve gleaned some things that I think will definitely help me, and that’s what this whole thing is about.

For one thing, I feel trapped. This marriage isn’t great, my husband has so many friends and family that think he’s wonderful–no one believes he could be capable of the things I write here–that it made me question my sanity for a while. I don’t question my sanity anymore in regards to my husband, I just understand that they care more about him because he’s part of their family, know what I mean? My mistake was in forgetting that old saying “blood is thicker than water.” His friends and family are super loyal to him–so much so that even when I pointed out he lied about having a lung removed, or failed out of school after three quarters of lying, or that the L&I people think his injury is a lie…last night, his brother told me I just needed to laugh it off and move on, and that maybe, my husband just needed counseling.

At around 4:00 AM, I finished that conversation with his brother, because I honestly hoped that his brother might offer something that his mom did not. I mean, when I ask his mom about anything to do with my husband, she gets downright upset with me, tells me she doesn’t want to hear it, and moves on. Like, when he lost his job, she didn’t care about me, or the fact it literally made me suicidal. She was, of course, naturally, concerned about nurturing and caring for HER son. I am not her daughter. I am not their sister. I am his wife. I don’t matter as much. Logically it makes sense…..but emotionally, it hurt so much to make that connection and to come to terms with the reality that my douchebag husband, who can do NO wrong, has a whole team in his corner, ready to back him up, to excuse his lies, his bad behavior, everything….so much so that even though they see the emotional and mental breakdown I’m having….they don’t care. They’d rather throw me under the bus and watch me deteriorate than care about me, they only care about him.

That was the worst lightbulb moment I’ve had in a long time. It was like, “OH. They actually love and care about him, even though he’s a jerk. Like, they unconditionally love him. My family does not unconditionally love me. They give no shits what happens to me. They could care less if I die, or if I go to jail, or if I get a divorce. They could care less about me feeling trapped and alone. No one wants me around, no one is loyal enough to me and my side of things that they would back me up. They have proven that over and over again. And I made the mistake of thinking this family DID. They do not love me more than him. And I’ve been hoping they would. Subconsciously, I had hoped they did. But they don’t. I can’t be angry at them for being the family that I wished they could be–they are, they just….are not…..to me.”

To be rejected from my own family was harsh enough, especially for doing things like saying “No, being raped, beaten, and emotionally abused did happen to us, and we refuse to keep it quiet,” or demanding that my father talk to me more than once every year.

Did I mention I saw my dad at my niece’s birthday party? I loathe him. Him and his “wife” (I use that term as loosely as she has) (and by loosely, I mean she’s cheated on my dad several times) show up, hang out with my brother who’s in town for the first time in almost a year, because military stuff. we barely acknowledged each other, and at one point, I hid in the basement bawling my eyes out because I hated that the reality that I wasn’t worthy of his love or acceptance was being dangled in my face, again. AGAIN. He had the audacity to hug me when he left and tell me “come up for dinner sometime,” and then moved on. I remember saying “Sure, Dad,” and everyone kind of stalling for a second, like they could hear the bitterness in my words, but no one acknowledged it, and I left.

This is who I am, world. I am…..trapped….alone….and unwanted.

It’s not abnormal for me to visualize a gun against my temple, going off, whenever I feel stupid or think things that are embarrassing. But this morning, it was different. Laying there on my bed, tears soaking my super thin, old pillow, while my husband snored on after staying up most of the night, I visualized the gun, and for the first time, I felt a sense of….joy…..when thinking about it. Like, my mind was beginning to say, “Well, we have no hope left, no one’s coming to rescue us, we don’t have anything left to do…..may as well end it.” And that scares me.

I guess I needed to know that someone thought how I was being treated wasn’t fair….but they know it isn’t. They just care more about the other team. And I say that because my husband and I are not a team. He’s my fucking enemy, and I hate him, and I want out–I just have no way of getting out.



Boat in Calm WatersSometimes, you’re so busy with living your life, you don’t really realize what’s happening until it’s happened.

I’m trying to learn the difference between what I *wish* would happen, what is *actually* happening, and what should probably *not* happen. Ironically, I feel like all three are the same.

Okay. So. I’m that horrible person who fell in love with someone else besides my husband while we’re married–and yes, I’m talking about someone else besides my brother in law, because I’m insane, I have issues, and apparently, any guy with a heart or a sense of humor, I fall for. I want all the fairy tale endings, apparently. Trust me, I know how insane and crazy I sound–I’ve loathed myself for several years, so don’t think I’m just trying to have whatever I want. I’ve been fighting this particular aspect of my personality (the part that makes me fall for anyone who gives a damn about me) my whole adult life. I hate myself for it.

Logically, I know that this particular issue was made easier because I married my husband after getting pregnant, I didn’t know that much about him when we did get married, after we married I learned he had lied about everything from having a lung removed, to going on dates with and making out with another girl while we were dating. Those truths rocked me to my core. I began to distrust my husband immensely, and it didn’t get better when he got “injured” with a very “odd” nerve injury to his arm. He claimed he couldn’t feel part of his hand. They did test after test, finding nothing wrong, finding no injury. He got a settlement and started school.
I ended up doing one of his classes, and two of his finals, and he passed all three with flying colors. I had no knowledge of engineering, but I managed to do his work anyways. The second semester I refused to do his homework, citing a need to run my full time business and take care of our son…..unassisted and refusing to seek out tutoring, he bombed one of his classes, claiming it was because his group didn’t work well with him. After reading emails, I found it was him that didn’t work well with others. Everyone thought he was obnoxious, a know-it-all, and had to tell him to shut up constantly because he spent so much time boasting about how much he knew.

The third quarter of his first year of school, my husband skipped classes, and eventually flunked out of everything. From there, for the next almost 4 months, he did nothing. Had no income. Nothing. And that didn’t sit well with me. I’d been working since I was 13, and I was so frustrated that he didn’t have the same work ethic. We were living in an expensive house with expensive bills, and it was an incredibly busy couple of months for me–but not a profitable one. Knowing that when it came down to the wire, my husband would rather watch me go mentally broken and financially and business-broken than get a job, I began to make preparations to leave him.

During all of this, another story was unfolding. It started when I first met my husband. His friend was living across the country, and called him by phone to talk for HOURS. At first, I thought this guy was annoying. He seemed like a jerk. And he was dubious about me. When I met him, his voice was strange to me, a different tone than I was used to, and I wasn’t sure about how often he demanded time and energy from my husband, but I couldn’t deny that he was a surprising caliber of handsome–and it was funny to watch girls stop to watch him as he walked by, oblivious. In fact, at the beginning, I think it’s fair to say I didn’t really like him–I thought he was super full of himself.

When he went back to the other side of the country a few months, I remember the last night we hung out. At this point, I was aware of a growing attraction to him. My relief because he was leaving was noticeable. I was determined to keep my attraction buried, to make it until he left, and then, I remember thinking with relief, I would be okay with my relationship again. But the entire night, his eyes lingered on me–he told me he thought my hair looked nice, and when I left, our eyes lingered on one another, and then that was it. He was gone. I focused all my energy on my husband, and tried not to think of his best friend. It worked very well.

My husband wanted him as the best man at his wedding, but his best friend couldn’t make it back. He could have, but now, when I think about it, I wonder if maybe he couldn’t watch us go down the aisle together. And when he came back, my guard was back up. I was pregnant at this point, and determined to make everything about my marriage amazing. I read book after book, joined discussions, prayed (because at that point I was still Christian) for a love that overwhelmed any attraction, and took a lot of steps to avoid being left alone with this guy. And yet….the feelings persevered.

About a year after our son was born, I knew I was crazy about this guy, and I loathed myself. A LOT. I wanted nothing to do with him, I avoided him like the plague, and I kept my distance when he was around, avoided talking to him, and when we did talk, I tried to steer the conversation back to my husband. Then my husband informed me that his best friend was coming with us on our trip to the other side of the state. I couldn’t find a way to tell my husband my concerns, so I kept them quiet.

That trip changed everything. By the time we returned, I was convinced that my soul mate, the other half of myself, was this guy. We loved the same things. Had earnest, respectful discussions, enjoyed a good work ethic, valued open dialogue, and dreamed of seeing the world. It broke me. It tore me to pieces. So I told my husband. I confided in him my fears and concerns, and he laughed at me, telling me that he wasn’t worried. He knew I wouldn’t do anything, and if anything, it made him happy to know he, for once, had something that his best friend wanted. My respect for him dropped to zero.

When I tried to leave my husband about 6 months ago for not having a job and flunking out of school and running my business into the ground, he threatened to tell his best friend how I felt. I felt terrified. It was one thing to tell my husband, because I expected him to protect and support me, but for him to use that knowledge to hurt me was an eye-opener–if he was willing to do this….what would he do when it came time for us to discuss our child? Would he use my yet undiagnosed anxiety and OCD to try and take him from me? He hinted that he would go that far several times.

I’m not sure why I did it, but I told his best friend how I felt. I think I was afraid of losing the friendship–or maybe I just wanted him to hear it from me. I didn’t want my husband to twist my words or hurt his best friend on the off chance he thought he was responsible. So I told him. He sat quietly at the kitchen table and listened as I spilled out my heart. He left without uttering reassurances. I had never felt so alone in my life.

But then…he started coming over more often. He spoke gently to me, and when we talked late into the night while my husband slept in a chair nearby, our eyes would drink each other in–it wasn’t long before I was sneaking down to my computer to talk with him online–it never went anywhere beyond casual conversation. We never spoke of our feelings–we just talked about life, our dreams, the news, etc. We genuinely valued our time talking together. We had one fight. When I kicked my husband out, I had to take him right back in, because he had literally no where to stay and no where to go, so I had a conversation with his best friend. He sounded hurt. He accused me of not being true to myself, and flipping my loyalties blindly. I begged him to understand that this was about my son, not about me. I was so afraid to lose my baby, I couldn’t handle it. Plus….deep down….I feared that if this guy knew me for all of my anxiety, rage, and hurt, he wouldn’t want to even know me. The real me was a monster. I spent my time trying to find a job for my husband, and found an internship that would have made us stable and even maybe comfortable. I was so excited–but I didn’t have the opportunity to figure out if the financial stability would fix the issues our marriage had, because he got fired two weeks later for another “injury” and is back on L&I again. Yet again, the injury is so obscure, they don’t believe him. It’s been 5 months, with no change. And I’m stuck with him 24/7, while he tells me what to do with my money. I made the mistake of giving him 300.00 of my income to put in his account, because it was easier than waiting for it to deposit into my business account, and suddenly he was telling me what I could and couldn’t buy, demanding I respect his wishes to pay certain bills at certain times, and spending a crap ton on fixing his car (which needed it, but still, my business expenses were being shoved aside with no regard in the meantime). I digress.

After all that happened, his best friend and I avoided each other until last month. I think we cordially greeted each other, but otherwise, we both stepped back, the hurt way too much for either of us to handle. He’d come over, but they’d hang out downstairs or in the garage, while I took care of my toddler, or they’d go out for food. But then one day, about a week ago, he stepped into the coffee shop that I was writing at. We saw each other, and he smiled that crooked smile, his eyes never leaving me–like blinking would have made the moment not happen. 20 minutes of talking with him, and every dormant feeling I had laid to rest was resurrected. Before he left, he studied his hat, trying to find words to say what he wanted. I waited patiently–he had taught me so much about patience. Finally, he said the words that jarred me “I’m leaving in the next month or so. Moving. To the other side of the state.”

I can’t really convey the devastation I felt–I certainly wasn’t anticipating it. It took me by surprise, and the look on his face when he saw my face showed me he was waiting for that response. It’s as if he wanted to know if I still cared. I did. I do.

Since then, he’s been around almost daily, and I feel like he’s made a conscious effort to try and win me over. I think he wants me to make a choice. We had a conversation one night, and it was so….obscure. Like, neither of us is comfortable talking about our feelings. At all. That’s one of the reasons I have such a struggle with him–because sometimes, I feel like I should trust my instincts and my ability to discern what someone is saying–but other times, apparently, I’m reading too much into it. I can’t tell if I’m reading too much into what’s happening here. When I read back through this, it’s hard to tell what I’ve romanticized in hopes of having that dream come true of the guy I’ve fallen for loving me just as much, or if he actually feels that way about me. And I’m so scared to know. Like…..by not asking him, I have an out. I can claim ignorance and keep trying to save my marriage, or I can confront him and ask his intentions–but that could destroy our friendship, or push us down a path I don’t have the willpower to stop. If he walked up to me and kissed me, I would kiss him back. I would.

Have you ever had a conversation where you had to read between the lines? We always have to be careful about how we speak to one another–we walk on egg shells constantly. He told me he was so tired of people not following through with what they say they’ll do–and he’s tired of trying to discern intent. I said that sometimes, people want to do things for themselves, but they have other obligations–the black and white is muddled with shades of gray, especially when children were involved. He said that made sense, but sometimes, you just have to do what’s best for you anyways.

I feel like he was talking about us. But I don’t trust myself. I’m so paranoid. I’m so quick to look for intent. And I fear that maybe my mind plays tricks on me because it wants something so bad, like a woman that shows signs of pregnancy even though she isn’t. What. If. I’ve. Created. A. Fantasy. What if I have? What if it’s all just a vast amount of misinterpreted signs and me just sounding crazy to him? What if he wants me to try and make a move so he can help my husband get rid of me? What if he’s trying to gently tell me to prepare myself for him peacing out, permanently.

All I know is that I don’t know how life would look without him in it. The last time it happened, things went so downhill, confronted with the reality of my life and marriage, I went suicidal. I never told him, but when he heard that I left from a trip because of how stressed I was, he knew. And I feel like he cared when he said it.

Anyways. I guess it’s another cringe-worthy, painful post in this journey. I know that getting all of this out is going to help me to remain transparent and to make healthier choices for my mental health. Writing it out helps.

As for my husband? Well, considering I just had to ask him to check on our toddler because he was making gagging sounds on the baby monitor while he was in crib, because I’m waiting for a meeting to start (this has been like a 3 day blog post in the making, because furtive writing is difficult here) (because, you know,I RUN A BUSINESS) he got snarky and said “If you’re so worried, you can do it.” Keep in mind he’s playing video games. I’m waiting for a conference call. But *I* should figure it out. And he put our son to bed almost an hour early for no apparent reason. Good luck dude, he’s not going to sleep! I’ve tried to tell him that for the last week, but he’s certain he knows best. Nevermind that our toddler just went through a growth spurt and doesn’t need as much sleep. That’s not as important as him playing his video games.

I can’t be the only person who’s handling it all. And this added stress of the shame I feel for falling for other men besides my husband is huge. I just wish I could escape, you know? I hate my life right now–and I hate my personality. I almost wish I could die, so I didn’t have to deal with any of it. Death would mean never having to feel so much shame or hurt. I would feel nothing. I want that so badly.



Personal Therapy

5f468e98So apparently, getting in with a therapist in this town is more difficult than becoming a NASA scientist without having a college education. It’s almost impossible. In light of the recent attempts I’ve undertaken to see someone and connect and try to hash out my issues (something I’m filing under ‘ongoing project’) I’ve decided to try personal therapy.

I now plan out my life. I’ve made it a point to ensure that I have 100% control over my schedule. Granted, there’s a major flaw in this: if things happen unexpectedly, I have to reschedule. HOWEVER, I’ve left gaps in my schedule to ensure if that happens, I still have the ability to pick up the pieces and keep getting everything done. My business now has a scheduled time. I make lists of tasks I need to accomplish every day. I ensure that I’m getting plenty of time both with my toddler, and by myself. I get out of the house and spend time alone. Right now, I’m chilling at a coffee shop and listening to chill music on Spotify. It’s incredibly zen.

I can’t say for sure if this is going to be a lasting situation. I have a hard time with consistency, but I see the improvement it’s making in my life. And if I can run the same business for over 5 years without any issues, then I feel like I’m gonna be okay in making this a reality. The only downside is that I’m still trying to work things out with the husband.

But that’s a post for another time. I’m too happy and content to discuss that frustration right now. I’m gonna embrace my happy, zen feeling. 😀



After I got past the initial anxiety of having to leave my family, get on a plane, travel through several states, get to this new state, meet someone for the first time in person, and then handle what happened today, I feel like I have way more patience and strength then I even knew I had–and I want to know how to keep this strength from disappearing, because this. feels. amazing.

SO. Let’s see. The plane was great except for when we were rolling through from Denver CO to the next destination. The pilot was like ” Hey, we’re, uh, gonna be experiencing some….*pregnant pause* severe…….turbulence. So you might just wanna hold on, seatbelts…” trailed off and an exasperated flight attendant followed up with more detailed instructions to STFU and sit down. I did. The turbulence was NON-EXISTENT. We landed. I almost kissed the ground. Life went on.

Actually, I’m rather unnerved with how nice and peaceful it is here. The drivers are efficient. Everyone drives like graceful dancers, barely even aware of each other, but effortlessly moving around anyways. Only one Tesla got mouthy with us, but even then, he was up, cutting us off, and then drove off so quickly, I was like “I’m not even mad.” California is full of wealthy people who seem to look at you stupidly when you only have a little money to spend. I was more flabbergasted that they could spend SO MUCH.

I went to Disneyland, and found that I clearly am not as bad off as I thought. Crowds didn’t bother me. Anxiety from having to handle trying to talk to people was huge, though. Like, going to Space Mountain, I wanted to ask if I could sit in the front, but I was afraid I wouldn’t understand what the guy said back. I have a hard time hearing, and I think it’s actually, possibly, the root of my social anxiety. I still like people. I liked them before all this started happening. Maybe it’s just a subconscious fear because when I can’t hear people, they get annoyed quickly, and I hate being a burden even more. Possibly. When I get back home, I’ll get my hearing checked and find out.

Staying in a house with two other people has given me another look into my life: I officially have a problem with men. My friend has a boyfriend that is sweet, funny, successful, quiet, nerdy, and attractive. Guess who now feels self-conscious about practically everything they’re saying and doing? And guess who’s been fighting the desire to try and make myself look like an attractive alternative to my FRIEND? Yeah. That. So, obviously, I have an issue with it, the next step, now that I know about it, is to find a way to nip it in the bud, because it’s obviously unhealthy, and it does nothing for my self-esteem when I get attracted to other men who are attached to women I am friends with. Nah mean? It’s not that I don’t adore and love my friend–I really, really, reaaaaally like her. I dunno. I have to figure that out. Ughhh. Just have to keep reminding myself that I’m not a bad person if I’m actively trying to fix the bad things about myself. Yes, I have bad instinctive tendencies, but I’m fixing them. I just have to remind myself how if felt finding out my Mom was cheating on my Dad and how much it hurt to hear that. Keep myself from being selfish. All that. One step at a time.

The distance has helped my marriage a bit. I feel like I don’t need to worry quite as much about the husband and the baby when I’m not there to wince at the minutiae of the day. They’re both doing super good without me, and they seem to be happy. The husband likes to send me pictures throughout the day, which also helps a lot. Honestly…..it feels like we’re all happier apart. And that sucks. Kind of. But it’s also like a positive experience. Maybe he’ll see that it’s just as great to be without me as I’m feeling about being without him. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I miss him….but it’s not…..it’s more I miss the familiarity, I think. I miss feeling connected to another person like I am with him. That.


Steamrolled by Anxiety

file0002062790027I remember when I was reading the Order of the Phoenix and there was a part when Fred and George are helping clean up the Headquarters, and Mundungus brings the cauldrons in, and Fred and George remark that you have to cut Mrs. Weasley off before she builds steam, otherwise you’re stuck listening to one of her rants for at least an hour.

That’s my anxiety.

And this evening, once every distraction I had placed in front of myself had finally dispersed, the reality that I was going to an airport the day after tomorrow, getting on an airplane, and disappearing for a week….it all became rather a lot to handle at once. Of course, I held the weed pipe in my hands, ready to take the edge off–to push back the anxiety. But then I just felt something in me break, and I couldn’t stop crying. Heaving sobs and awful running nose and horrible crying face. My husband sympathetically handing me toilet paper, and softly telling me I got a small piece stuck to the corner of my eye, my dog kissing the tears off my cheeks, my toddler happily smearing a burrito all over the kitchen table. Our house is in a constant state of confusion.

It’s not the airplane itself. I have faith in our technology. I have faith that millions fly every day. I know that if I die, I can do nothing to change it. I guess my fear is of having to go through the gates, taking off my shoes (which, by the way, I’m totally wearing flats this time, to avoid the awfulness of the TSA) missing my flight, having my flight cancelled, since I don’t get to board until 2:55 PM, during snowy weather, my husband stuck with my son for 5 days alone, everyone judging me for going on a trip when it’s obvious we don’t have a lot of money….

It’s just a lot of things, I guess. The fear of doing what I so bravely pursued on a whim a couple weeks ago….it’s finally catching up with me. Hopefully I can work through it, and enjoy the opportunity to get out and see amazing things, and be with amazing friends. I’m terrified, but…..the absolute worst thing that could happen to me is I could die. People die every day. And honestly….if I did die…..I think I’m ready for a different, calmer, quieter, more peaceful adventure. Hopefully the next world/life/etc. has that for me.

I realized that this incredibly public journal has become something of a safe place for me. It’s not that I care if anyone judges me or comments or doesn’t….writing it out has really given me the chance to speak my mind when I don’t feel safe saying it anywhere else. It’s like…..saying it here gives me control, somehow. I have my thoughts written down, and I can go back and stare at them, looking for patterns, clues to my issues, triggers, how my emotions drive me. I get the feeling that someday, when I’m studying psychology, bringing awareness to the issue of mental illness, and fighting for better systems to inform and assist the mentally ill, this will help me help myself, and maybe even bring hope to others. Or maybe, I’ll write in it for another 3 months, get depressed again, and break my habit. *shrug* We’ll see, I suppose.


Speaking of…

Sneakers on a Pier3Today, I watched my toddler while the husband went to an event.

It was, quite possibly, the most nerve-wracking experience I’ve had in a while.

Keep in mind, if you will, that I have been carefully keeping my distance from my family, only allowing myself around my toddler when I knew I was fully capable of handling myself. If my husband set off one of my triggers, if my toddler set off one of triggers, if my DOG set off a trigger, I’d peace out until I could handle myself.

But the reality is, I can’t keep doing this forever, nah mean? Today was a good example of that. The husband left, the toddler eyed me like a piece of fresh meat, and I began to make mental preparations to ensure that nothing horrible happened to either us.

The reality is, it wasn’t that bad of a day–excepting that he wouldn’t let me sit down, kept making me sit with a box on my head, and then wanted me to build with blocks so he could destroy my creations. It was kind of weird. And I found myself getting….not anxious….maybe….aggressive, towards the dogs. It’s just….whenever one of the dogs came near me, to seek pets, treats, or the throwing of a toy, I would feel the urge to pet them enough to just….hurt them. I didn’t, but I could feel my teeth grinding with the instinctive need to. So I did some research on it–apparently the urge to squish a small animal or to feel aggression that isn’t intentional, is instinctive. It comes down to showing supremacy in a pack/group setting. People and dogs have a very specific type of dominance dance, and gritting your teeth and wanting to squeeze them is apparently supposed to show dogs that you’re dominant. Again, it’s instinctive. I researched this on several psychology forums and journals. Knowing that the aggression I felt was explainable, if not still unsettling, I felt the familiar draw of taking a hit of weed. It would definitely calm me down–but it would also numb me out. I’d get nothing else done today. I would literally sit on my butt, on the couch, and not do anything with anyone. I want the fear and anxiety to leave, but I can’t keep doing it at the cost of my productivity.

So now I’m writing here, since the toddler is down for bed, sipping a cup of coffee, and trying to remind myself that in three days, I get to go on an airplane, fly to another state, and spend time with people and not think about anything else. Part of me wishes I didn’t even have to call to check in while I’m gone. I kind of just want a complete and total break from everyone and everything. Nothing seems to be helping. I thought two weeks of downtime after Christmas would help, but then I took jobs, the in laws came into town, etc. Life still happened, even though I desperately needed everything to remain still. And I can’t keep hoping for a mental break. I just have to cope, adjust, and find a way to move past this. As it stands now, I’m struggling hardcore to keep my business going. I don’t even know if I want to. I want to finish this book and get it published and become a writer, but even that scares me. If what *was* my passion is now a burden to me, won’t writing do the same thing?

I’m unsure. I kind of just wish I could rest and not do anything so I can reset myself, but I don’t know how to do that either. I feel like I’m just treading water right now.