I lost a friend
Like keys in a sofa
Like a wallet in the backseat
Like ice in the summer heat

I lost a friend
Like sleep on a red-eye
Like money on a bad bet
Like time worrying about every bad thing that hasn’t happened yet

I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight
I’ll be lying awake counting all the mistakes I’ve made
Replaying fights
I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight

I lost a friend
I lost a friend
I lost my mind
And nobody believes me
Say, “I know that [she] don’t need me,
‘Cause [she] made a little too much money to be twenty and sad.”
And I’ll be fine without [her]
But all I do is write about ’em
How the hell did I lose a friend I never had?
Never had

I’m on the mend
Like I’m wearing a neck brace
Like I’m sleeping in my own place
Like I’m pulling all the stitches out of my own face

I’m on the mend
Like I’m icing a new sprain
Like I’m walking on a new cane
Like it’s been a couple days since I slipped and said something sorta like your name

I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight
I’ll be lying awake counting all the mistakes I’ve made
Replaying fights
I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight

I’m on the mend
But I lost a friend
I lost my mind
And nobody believes me
Say, “I know that [she] don’t need me,
‘Cause [she] made a little too much money to be twenty and sad.”
And I’ll be fine without [her]
But all I do is write about ’em
How the hell did I lose a friend I never had?

I’d apologize 
If I thought it might 
Make a difference 
Or make you listen
I’d apologize 
If it was black and white
But life is different
Just try to listen 
To me now

I know I’ll be alright
But I’m not tonight
I lost a friend

How the hell did I lose a friend I never had?

Never had

~Finneas

I’m down in my basement, surrounded by gifts I need to finish wrapping before Christmas. Every single part of everything I do by myself now leaves me with this empty and hopeless feeling. I ache as I look at pictures of my family when we were all happy. When life was simple, smiles weren’t forced, and happiness was a given. The holidays are hard, now. I’m not wrapping gifts for people I should be. I don’t hear the sounds of laughter around me, as I plan and prepare everything for Christmas. There’s no pictures being taken with genuine grinning faces of those that I love. It hurts real bad. I’m trying so fucking hard, too. I want to be me again. I want to see my husband and children filled with joy. I feel as if… Actually, scratch that. I know I’ve failed my babies spectacularly. They will forever be haunted by pain and trauma that leaves them spending their adult lives desperately trying to heal. My greatest goal was to give them a childhood they would never have to recover from. I always wanted so much to give them a home and family filled with love and memories of an amazing time growing up with people that never let them down. So much of what’s happened to them is because of me. While I can’t control anyone else’s actions, it was me who made the choice to allow people into my children’s lives. It is a serious mind fuck realizing how much of my family’s pain is my fault. How much of my own pain is caused by my inability to protect not only myself, but most especially my family, from the very same things I wasn’t protected from. I can’t rewind or undo anything, although I spend a lot of my time replaying things and wonder sometimes, if I could, how far back would I actually need to go? What could I have changed? What should I have done differently, exactly? As wrong as I was, I didn’t ever mean to be! I never intended to land here, or to have brought the people who trusted me down right alongside me. All I wish for now, is to know how to be the person my family deserves, and to give them at least something good and right. I don’t trust myself, though. It’s almost as if this whole time I believed that down was up, backward was forward, good was bad. And if that’s the case, is wrong right? Would hurting help? So, if that’s the best things for them, how do I do that? Maybe it’s me? What if the only consistent thing that underlies every one of their heartaches is…me?

I bought an obscene amount of gifts for my family, this year. I understand I’m trying to fill voids that won’t ever be replaced with expensive new things, but I do it anyway. I haven’t seen my husband or my babies truly content and “whole”, in as long as I myself have been broken into these tiny unrecognizable pieces. Everyday I fight to suppress the voice inside my head whispering, I’m miserable. I’m miserable to be around. I’m worthless. I’m a failure. I’m not a good person. If I almost forget these things for even a moment, and I almost begin to allow myself to find the smallest amount of hope, the voices in my head echo with urgency these “affirmations” of things I must remember so that I could maybe avoid letting my family down again. I want more than anything to contribute something positive. Positive for my family, and for everyone. I honestly believed I was capable of changing the world. I never cared to have my name or my face remembered, but that I could impact others in even the smallest ways, and that would create a chain of events that made the world a better place because I had been here. I was a narcissistic moron, to have thought I was actually that special. That important. I’m left with sort of an existential crisis, wondering where I belong. My intentions matter little, when my children are paying the price for my choices. However well intended, I was a fool. I made mistakes I fear one day they’ll all realize, and understand I am to blame for. I’m responsible for these consequences they have and will spend their lives paying for. I pray they can heal, and find their own paths that lead to something much better for them. I pray they can forgive me, when they learn how miserably I’ve failed them. The job I cared most about, that I put all the best of me into, was being a wife and mama. My best was not even close to good enough, though. For Christ sake, how many people had to leave me before I realized that?

I want to go home. I miss even people and things that are still here. Nothing’s like it was. None of us are who we used to be. It’s like we’re all strangers just existing alongside each other everyday. Pretending to be the people we were as much as possible, but fooling no one. I want to be a wife again. A mom again. A daughter, sister, friend. I want to live, not just exist. I have absolutely no idea how to do that, though. I want my life back. I want me back. I want my family to look and feel like mine. I want to belong. I want to matter. I want to believe it’s possible. To be able to see some sort of road map that might guide me towards finding my way back home. I’m not sure that place even exists anymore? My entire being yearns for the comfort that never failed to embrace me inside my favorite places, with my favorite people.

No one ever told me the price for my soul
Could never be bought back with diamonds or gold
Lay the hands that dealt me that others would fold
I spent all I had chasin’ dreams I was sold
I’m losin’ my control, my friends all turned foes
I’m haunted by pain I don’t show

I can’t never could be understood
Dance in the rain’s all I do good
So many flames on bridges I stood
I pray for change but don’t think I would
Now all that I gave was never enough
I reckon our ways are all catchin’ up
Can’t never could be understood
Can’t never could

~Savannah Dexter & Jelly Roll

Yesterday afternoon, as I drove home for my lunch break, I had a sad revelation. I wrote a blog post, somewhere around a year ago, and in it I wrote of the things that mattered most to me. What I hoped to be remembered for. What I was most proud of. Being a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother, and a friend were things I cherished. I’m not my mother’s daughter, anymore. I changed my inner dialogue, some time ago, to say it that way rather than saying “I don’t have a mom”. I don’t belong to her. Just as she’s not mine, or in my life, I’m not hers either. Just like she made choices that separated us, and severed our relationship, I realized I had power too. It’s so hard to see it, when I’m covered in grief and aching over the loss of someone I loved. But, they don’t have ME, either. Maybe that doesn’t make them hurt like I do? I can’t ever know. That’s not the point, anyway. I’m not someone’s daughter, anymore. I’m not someone’s sister, anymore. I’m not someone’s friend, anymore. And, I’m not someone’s mom, anymore. I am still someone’s daughter, sister, friend, and mother. Not theirs, though. I do still matter to some someone’s. I can’t run and hide, even if sitting where I’m at right now hurts like hell. I can’t leave, because I have people sitting right here alongside me. They need me. They want me. They love me.

I can’t get into it, yet, but I’m going to try to describe what’s happened. What’s happening.

Imagine someone you cared about climbed up into a tree and refused to come back down. There’s a storm coming, with lightning, rain, and tornados inside it. You spend time trying to talk sense into them. You buy, find, or build them a variety of ladders they could climb down on. They refuse. You try a slide. You build stair steps. Nothing works. You bring in other people, who you hope can get this person to come down. Nothing. You beg and plead with this person. You get angry with them. You try everything you can think to do. You ask all of your closest family and friends for advice. You’re repeatedly being told you have GOT to get them down! And then… the storm hits. Lightning strikes are narrowly missing this tree they’ve perched themself high on. Strong winds are blowing debris all around. The rain’s making the tree slippery, and you’re so damn afraid. Finally, in your desperation, you climb to them, grab hold of them and jump to the ground. You know landing is going to hurt, but at least you’ve gotten them out of danger…

Or so you thought.

The next morning, the headline on the front page of the paper reads, “Innocent Person Tossed From Tree” There’s an entire article that makes it appear there’s a clear victim and perpetrator. It says YOU forced the victim into that tree. This victim was only in the tree because they saw a kitten that needed rescued. Then, YOU showed up and began harassing the poor victim for climbing the tree. There’s no mention of your repeated attempts to help that person. You’re described as a rage fueled villain who just wanted to punish that person for being in a tree. Nevermind the fact there was no kitten. No mention of the storm. Nevermind all the other people who witnessed the whole thing from the beginning.

And then, you discover who wrote the story. Who published it. Who it was sent to. Who read it. Who believed every word of it. There are many people who stand with you. Some even surprise you with their trust and loyalty. Others shock you with their ability to turn away from you, refusing to so much as consider there could be missing parts that make a big difference here. Or to at least reserve judgement until they’ve gotten a clear picture and much needed context around it. A few people absolutely break your heart, because they are unmoved by your pleas for help. They’re content to allow and even contribute to the torrent of hateful and cruel things being said to and about you.

What hurts the most is realizing they didn’t love me like I loved them. Because I could never…

Adam and I were talking, last night. I keep saying over and over again, I didn’t want this. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t choose who is still here with me OR who isn’t. Everything about where we’ve found ourselves makes me sad. I take no pleasure whatsoever in saying goodbye to people I loved. I miss them. I miss who I saw, when I looked at them. I miss how good I felt, when I believed they could see me. This isn’t about punishing anyone who hurt me. Adam said that if he could go back, he would never have let these people get close to us, possibly preventing what’s happened. I disagree. Like the song says, I pray for change but don’t think I would. If I could avoid where I’m at by changing where I’ve been, and who with, I couldn’t. It was all real for ME. I believed in what and who was around me. Maybe I was too stupid or too blind to see things clearly? What I saw was the most beautiful life I could ever have imagined being blessed with. Whether that was real or an illusion doesn’t change what it meant to me, or the memories I’ll never let go of, because in those moments it was very real, to me. I explained it to Adam like this, “if you got a terrible disease and the only way to save your life was to amputate your legs, would you wish to never have had legs at all? If you could spare yourself the pain of losing something you relied on, would you choose never to experience the memories made while you had it?” I feel like a whole lot of myself has been torn from me, but at least I knew what feeling whole was like.

I know I can’t take one more step towards you
‘Cause all that’s waiting is regret
Don’t you know I’m not your ghost anymore
You lost the love I loved the most

I learned to live half alive
Now you want me one more time

I hear you’re asking all around
If I am anywhere to be found
But I have grown too strong
To ever fall back in your arms

I’ve learned to live half alive
Now you want me one more time

It took so long just to feel alright
Remember how to put back the light in my eyes
I wish I had missed the first time that we [met]
‘Cause you broke all your promises
And now you’re back
You don’t get to get me back

Who do you think you are?
Runnin’ ’round leaving scars
Collecting your jar of hearts
Tearing love apart

You’re gonna catch a cold
From the ice inside your soul
Don’t come back for me
Don’t come back at all

~Through Fire

I decided to use a slideshow of my pictures taken over the last few months. Moving Mikayla into her dorm. Bedroom upgrades. Our new door and cabinet knobs. My house and the outside world around me moving into another new season, Fall. There’s also a random picture of my incredibly swollen foot/ankle taken in early September. I had a bug bite that seemed to heal normally, and then my ankle began to swell. Within a few days, the swelling progressed down into my foot and it began to look very purple. I finally went to the doctor, and it’s good I did, because I was diagnosed with “septic arthritis”. Which is a scary way of describing an infection in my joint. My doctor wanted to admit me into the hospital for IV antibiotics and steroids, but I convinced him to send me home with promises to immediately begin the oral steroids and antibiotics he prescribed, and that I would come back if my ankle didn’t look significantly better within a few days. It’s all healed now, but that was not fun. There’s a video below my slideshow. I had recorded Mj a couple weeks ago, after we found a pair of Adam’s dirty socks on the couch. She can make me laugh so hard! I often take one weekday off work and then work Saturday, instead. I like having a weekday at home, so I can do at least a portion of the things I never seem to have enough time for anymore. I’m going to meet all my targets, at work, this month. I’ve brought in new customers and new money over my target goals. I’ll receive a big bonus for it. At work, I’m known as “the bubbly one”. Everyone comments on my positive attitude, my smile, and my energy. I could most definitely have been a great actress, clearly. I have started crafting again, recently. I hadn’t so much as looked at my craft supplies, since May. I didn’t even really go downstairs much, for months after. I’m gradually trying to find my way back to the things I once so enjoyed. Oh, and Mj also got some eyeglasses, in August. My poor girl’s got terrible eyesight now. I think she looks adorable, though. Finally, there was hurricane Helene, last month. We did have some flooding, here, but nothing like further East Tennessee into North Carolina. Mikayla, in Knoxville, was okay too.

I’m going to address my reasons for the song I chose as my title, this time. It has come to my attention that there is at least one someone accessing my blog, and this person (I’m actually not talking about Jackie) sent me a text message a week ago specifically mentioning they’d read my post, and that they wish I’d consider therapy. First of all, who do you think you are!? Why does my well-being matter one bit, to you? And Jesus Christ, who the fuck would be doing any better than I am, in my shoes? I get out of bed every single morning, and I do everything I have to do to take care of myself and my family. I don’t need some stranger to teach me how to be okay, because I’m not supposed to be okay. This hell that I wake up and go to sleep inside every single day is my reality, and no amount of therapy is going to change that fact. The only way out of this is through it. I have no way of knowing what lies ahead. Things are very likely to get harder, along this journey I’m traveling. I have been hurt, betrayed, in so many ways by so many of the people I’d have expected would’ve been the very ones who’d be here to help me through this shit. There are days when I’m so incredibly overwhelmed with sadness. There are also days when anger seems to consume me. Somehow, that anger becomes fuel for me. My rage at this situation, for the people who’ve so badly hurt me, propels me forward. I’m motivated by it. Determined NOT to allow this and them to erase me or the shreds of hope that I cling to. How am I possibly going to accept help in gathering up all of my broken pieces, and putting them back together, from the same people who so easily became the hammers used to break me? Am I really expected to trust y’all to give a single solitary fuck about how, when, or whether I can become whole again? Even in my fiercest anger over this, at no point have I ever considered using the “ammunition” I’ve accommodated over these years knowing people I loved. I hold secrets capable of breaking apart relationships and hearts alike. Many secrets that are probably obvious to those who know what they’ve trusted me with. But also, secrets that no one even knows I keep for them. Some of them are unknown to the very ones they’re about and would seriously damage their relationships, career, and/or their hearts. Still, they’ve stayed locked away. Despite all the utter betrayal I’ve felt, my loyalty and genuine love for people who’ve mattered to me remains. I never have or would intentionally inflict this kind of unyielding pain on anyone, let alone those I cared about. I am first to recognize my own imperfections, and I own my mistakes. I’m not a bad person, though. Flawed, of course, but not anywhere near the monster some were quick to believe in. As I stood right there in front of you, and bared my soul for you, all you could see was an evil portrait of me, painted by someone intending to inflict the kind of pain only the most vicious of monsters could deserve.

I forgive all of you.

I can’t trust most anybody anymore, though. So, you know who you are, please stay out of this space I’ve created for ME. It’s the one place I can come to and be brutally honest with myself. I can’t control who reads my words here, but if you ever truly cared for me, get out of my head. This is mine. I maintain control over near nothing. I’m forced to move along like a leaf that’s been blown from a tree in the Fall. The wind decides my path. I stare helplessly at the obstacles before me, begging to just please land somewhere safely. What I see, how I feel, and who I choose to tell my story to, are things I alone should own. I honestly can’t know whether or why some people even care if, when, or where I’ll land. I’m terrified of being tossed to the mercy of the wind like this again. As much as it hurts to admit out loud (or in writing), you are dangerous. I cannot trust that mine or my family’s safety is what motivated you to search for me. Invading my personal space is not how you help me, if that’s what you intended. It’s equally possible that reading about my struggles to survive give you a twisted satisfaction in knowing I’ve been sufficiently torn to pieces that barely resemble the person I used to be. As unrecognizable as I must seem, from me to you, ditto.

I’m going to go take a shower with my husband. Then, I’ll call Mikayla to tell her goodnight, tuck my kids here in bed, and slide into the comfort of my husband’s embrace. I’m strangely finding myself craving the pleasure only Adam’s body can give me. I suppose I’m hoping to escape my heartbreak that’s been poured out here, even if it’s only for a few moments.

Goodnight, y’all.

Yeah, time just slips away

I live life like a renegade drifter
Losing myself on the open road
Running from the pains of a sinner
‘Cause ain’t no Band-Aid for a broken soul

The Devil’s steady tearing out the best of me
Screaming “fair game” but he must’ve lied
‘Cause now there ain’t too much left of me
But I ain’t slowing down until I’m justified

‘Cause I done been steady swingin’
At the bottom of a hangman’s rope
Maybe it’s a sad plan dreaming, I’m a madman screaming
But I can’t stop believing there’s hope, oh Lord

Like a dead man walking back from the grave to find where I went wrong
Everything I love is dead and gone
Every night I sing this dead man’s song
I got hell on a trigger, got a bottle of Jack and I’m right where I belong
Stuck in between heaven and being dead wrong
So from here until I’m dead and gone
I’m a dead man walking

This life has got me barely holding by a single thread
Gripping on my pistol, squeezing triggers until my finger’s red
A lot of folks they like to judge, nudging then they hang their head
Hypocrites that don’t give a shit
No common sense don’t bring the dead

Name calling and pointing fingers and laying blame don’t bother me
As long as y’all don’t touch me, my family and my property
My prophecy wasn’t prodigy, in the ground I’ll probably be
But I’m standing up and I’m raisin’ hell so won’t you come and follow me?

I’m a cornered up, pissed off, cracker in a cage
Get you one coin missed call, take it to the grave
I guess I’ll take the mask off and let you judge me
But the looking didn’t last long ’cause bitch I’m ugly

I can’t blend in, eyes cut you to the bone
Now my covers been blown, I’m supposed to be alone
Like a hairpin trigger kill, I don’t know we’re wrong
But I keep singing this song and I’m stuck under a stone

Like a dead man walking back from the grave to find where I went wrong
Everything I love is dead and gone
Every night I sing this dead man’s song
I got hell on a trigger, got a bottle of Jack and I’m right where I belong
Stuck in between heaven and being dead wrong
So from here until I’m dead and gone
I’m a dead man walking

~Crucifix

It’s been an absurd amount of time since I’ve written. I’m sitting in our basement, trying my damndest to write with these long ass acrylic fingernails. I’ve never done more than paint my nails. Now I’ve got fake ones, painted a pretty shade of my favorite color, pink. I suppose it’s a perfect symbol of what my entire existence feels like, these days. Fake. At work, I fake happy smiles, as I make small talk with customers and coworkers alike. I’ve made lots of “friends”. They tell me all about themselves, and their lives. I don’t share myself, though. In fact, I don’t let anyone in. Not even my husband, really. He sees more than anyone else does, but I can’t seem to fully open myself up. The only way I make it through each day, is by compartmentalizing. I hold all of my secrets, my worries, my struggles inside. And, I keep them neatly tucked into separate spaces in my mind, because that’s what keeps me sane. That’s how I make it through the day. It’s the only way I can show up to work and be the person they’re expecting to see. It’s how I’m able to come home, fix supper for my family, and be the wife and mama they need me to be. I wouldn’t call myself depressed. It’s more like I don’t even know who the hell I am. I’m not me. This isn’t my home. Those aren’t my kids. That’s not my husband. I’m in some fucked up alternate universe, where things look familiar, but aren’t the same at all. We’ve redone our kids’ rooms. Adam and I got a new bed. We replaced all our old ugly doorknobs with new ones. They’re “antique bronze”, what I’d been wanting. We also replaced our kitchen cabinet handles with fancier black ones. We moved Mikayla down to her dorm, at the University of Tennessee, in August. She comes home every other weekend. She facetimes me most every day, too. She has a real hard time leaving, every time her weekends at home come to an end. It breaks my heart to see her cry so hard. I LOVE that she wants to spend time with us, but I hate how difficult it is for her to leave. MJ is in therapy, now. She has had a hard time with all these changes, too. All of my babies are hurting. They’re struggling, same as I am. Same as Adam is. So, I have to be strong and brave.

In June, I spent three and a half hours alone in my car, parked on some back road in Kentucky. I sat there sobbing, clutching my Smith and Wesson handgun, and fighting with myself about whether to pull the trigger. I had turned off the location on my phone, because I didn’t want it to be my family who had to find me. Obviously, I didn’t follow through. That was the moment that pushed me to begin my job search. I told myself I needed purpose. On my very first day at my job, I learned the password to our computers. It’s “YouHavePurpose”. Kind of ironic, huh? I sometimes think, maybe in an alternate universe, I DID pull the trigger that day. What if I actually did die, that day? Is the person I was gone? How do I wrap my head around this new version of who I am, who my family is, and what my life looks like?

Adam is very aware that I’m hurting, and it’s clear that I haven’t been myself. Whoever that was? He lets a whole bunch of stuff slide. Except, once. There was one morning, about a month or so ago, when even this new me crossed too far over the line. It was early, and we were arguing in the kitchen, over a stupid coffee cup. I got so frustrated, I told him, “fuck you”. Later that morning, when I was at work, he had text me. His text mentioned consequences for talking to him that way. I won’t pretend I wasn’t nervous. I wound up getting stuck at work for nearly an hour past close, which made Adam worry. I imagine that worry did soften him, at least a little bit. His anger had melted away, as had mine, by the time we arrived home. Still, I got spanked pretty hard. Adam sat with me first, and really listened to MY side of what went wrong that morning, though. He genuinely wanted to understand, and took the time to do so. Then, he spanked me. After, I had slid off his lap, down to the floor. My arms wrapped tightly around his legs, and I rested my head down into his lap for awhile. He played with my hair, as he spoke softly to me. He did understand what he had said to upset me, and apologized, but reminded me I didn’t need to have been disrespectful. I looked up at him and told him I felt HE had been disrespectful to ME! In his calm and gentle voice, he insisted he hadn’t cussed me. He was right. He has never once said “fuck you” to me, or yelled at me. I was left with no further arguments to make regarding that morning’s ridiculous incident. Just a couple weeks ago, there was one other instance that typically would’ve earned me a sore behind. I had forgotten to do something important, and it cost us. However, Adam recognized I’d been having an even harder time than has become normal. As Summer turns into Fall, it can be a very difficult time for me. Sights and smells throw me back to other buried memories that will suddenly resurface, unexpectedly. Even the most basic, simple daily tasks had become huge obstacles for me. I’d been having a rough time, and he knew it. As we stood together in the shower, I opened up to him. I put words to the hurt and the heaviness I was carrying. I also told on myself, about this thing I’d neglected to get done. Adam held me in his arms, as I fought the tears that streamed down my face. It feels GOOD, letting things out. Sharing myself with my husband. I hesitate, though, because I just don’t want to add any more weight to what he is carrying. I desperately want to find my way back to me. He didn’t punish me, that night. I understood that pass wasn’t because he was afraid or because he didn’t mind my mistake. It was because he loves me, and it hurts him that I hurt. It wasn’t a time to be harsh. I needed him to hold me, to hear me, even if I wasn’t able to clearly communicate what was behind the tears and frustration and upset I had been experiencing. He knew I was sincere, and he knew what was truly needed that night. Adam is a good man. He’s amazing, and I love him so much. It kills me to hear anybody say different.

Still, I’m lonely as hell. I’m trying my best to be okay, without. Without so much of what mattered to me. Without Jackie. I can’t rebuild or replace what we had. Or, what I believed to be true, anyway. Every piece of me aches over what I’ve had to say goodbye to. I’m not sure how to be okay. I just keep faking it, hoping and praying that one day I won’t have to. Someday, I can be okay again. Life is moving on, but I feel like I’m stuck. Hours turned to days. Days became weeks. Weeks have become months. Yet, I’m still trapped somewhere in between then and now. I watch as the seasons change, as my children have grown, as time marches on. Part of me wishes I could rewind, while another wishes to fast forward. I just want out of this grief, loss, and intense pain. My God I want to find my way back to the me I was so content with. Some days, it’s like being forced to stand in the rain, and then put inside a cold room, unable to remove the soaked clothes I’m wearing. I literally feel as if I’m crawling out of my skin. I do have some okay days. I think I do. It’s never going to be the same, and I recognize that. I can’t simply be okay about it, though.

I haven’t sat down in front of my laptop, and written my thoughts in a long while, because it hurts to have to acknowledge them. I want to fake it for the sake of this blog that I’ve built here, but I can’t do that. It hurts to be authentic, but it’s killing me doing all this pretending. If I’m not already dead? I don’t know anymore. Whoever I am, this is “me” tonight.

I’ll keep the pictures saved in a safe place
Wow, I look so weird here
My face has changed now
It’s a big shame

So many feelings, struggling to leave my mouth
And it’s not that rare for me to let myself down
In a big way
But I had enough time and I found enough reason to accept that

It’s not the same anymore
I lost the joy in my face
My life was simple before
I should be happy, of course

But things just got much harder
Now it’s just hard to ignore
It’s not the same anymore
It’s not the same anymore
It’s not the same, but, it’s not a shame ’cause

I spend a long time putting up with people
Putting on my best face
It’s only normal when you stop things in the wrong way
It’s only four o’clock and still, it’s been a long day
I just wanna hit the hay
People knocking on me like every day
I’m tired of taking stress

If only there could be another way
I’m tired of feeling suppressed
And when they want me the most
I’m tired of acting like I care, but I do
And I can’t wait to hit the bed
But tomorrow makes me scared

‘Cause it’s not the same anymore
I lost the joy in my face
My life was simple before
I should be happy, of course

But things just got much harder
Now it’s just hard to ignore
It’s not the same anymore
It’s not the same anymore
It’s not the same
It’s not the same

I kept the feelings inside
I open up when shit gets built up this high
[They] make it easy to cry
The words fall out of me and there’s no more disguise

I miss the days when I was someone else
I used to be so hungry
Right now, my stomach’s full of air
And I’ve spent many months just hating on myself

I can’t keep wishing things will be different
Or leaving problems on the shelf
I wish I didn’t need to get help
But I do
But I do

I’ve been so hard on myself
Even my family can tell
And they barely saw what I felt
I wouldn’t wish this on my enemy or anyone else

It’s not the same
It’s not the same as before
It’s not the same anymore
And it’s fine because

I’ve learned so much from before
Now I’m not sure on advice
There’s no excuses at all
No point in feeling upset

Won’t take my place on the floor
I’ll stand up straight like I’m tall
It’s up to me, no one else
I’m doing this for myself

It’s not the same anymore
It’s better
It got better

~Rex Orange County

I’ve thought often, over the last few weeks, about writing here in my blog. I’ve wanted to. My days have been incredibly FULL, though. I start my day when my alarm wakes me, at 5:01am. 5:01, because I refuse to set alarms for times in increments of fives. Not 5:00, and not 5:05 or 4:55. All of my alarms are set for random times, like my 5:01 wake up alarm.

EXIBIT A (see above photo)

My 5:01 alarm snatches me from my sleep, and I drag myself into our bathroom, where I throw on a hoodie and some shorts. I know it’s the middle of summer and hot as hell, but I’m literally always cold first thing in the morning. Once I’m dressed, I make my way into the kitchen. I pour some coffee into my travel mug, and then I drive Adam to his work. His pickup truck has been at the dealership being worked on for OVER A MONTH! He’s pretty frustrated about it, and I’m sick of it too. I get home a little before 6am, and go back inside to change into my work clothes.

I do my hair and make-up, while I finish my coffee. I almost always put some music on while I’m getting ready for work. The kids are still sleeping, at least for one more week. School starts soon. My work schedule is very flexible. We have meetings every Monday and Friday, so I need to be in the office a little earlier on those days. I typically leave the house between 8:15-9:15am, depending on what’s on my calendar for that day.

I’m really enjoying my job, and I get along great with everyone. Our branch manager has been training me, and we’ve already become friends. She’s my age, and a single mom to a little girl the same age as my Mj. My training was supposed to take 8 weeks. There was to be 5 weeks of learning through a BUNCH of reading and testing, followed by 3 weeks of actually using these learned skills and practicing them. I finished all of the computer learning and tests in the first four days I was there. Last week, I was already handling loan applications from start to finish. I pre-qualified customers who requested it, and then discuss our lending options with them. I run our credit inquiry once they decide to proceed. Then, it’s time to go over everything again, and have them sign and initial about a zillion forms. Once they’ve got their money and I’m finished with the customer, it’s time to print, scan, fax, e-mail, share, send, and file everything. I’ve got all the passwords and codes memorized now. I’ve assigned and de-assigned our cash drawers, balanced them, and open/closed and balanced our safe. I take care of deposits, withdrawls, and take incoming and make outgoing calls. No part of my job is particularly difficult. I love working both with customers and my co-workers. I love having my own desk and workspace. I also kinda love that I’m doing something that gets me out and takes me from the worries, stress, and sadness I felt at home. Don’t get me wrong, I love my home and family! It’s just too easy to trap myself inside and dwell on so many things I can’t control. My body and brain are forced to focus on something else, somewhere else, when I go to work.

I come home sometime between 12:30-1:30 for my lunch break. I hang out with my kids for awhile, before it’s time to get back to work.

The girls baked some brownies the other day, right before I got home for my lunch break 🙂

Finally, I get home from work. I usually get home anywhere from as early as 5:30, to as late as 7pm. Most evenings I have to pick up Adam from his work, too. I remove my heels and blazer jacket, untuck my shirt, and get started making supper.

Once everyone has eaten supper, and the kitchen is cleaned up, I usually get about an hour to talk and text with my friends and family. Then, Adam and I take our shower and get ready for bed, so we can do it all over again the next day. This weekend, I’m working on our laundry and cleaning all the bathrooms. Basically, catching up on all the household chores that used to get done during weekdays.

We will be moving Mikayla into her dorm in just a little over a week! I don’t think I’ve accepted the fact that my girl won’t be home everyday anymore. There’s still a whole lot of shit happening in my life, but I do have to be grateful for my ability to take it in strides recently. The fears and the stress and the sadness exist, but they don’t consume me these days. Between the daily antidepressant I’ve been on since June, and my new job, I’m definitely doing better. I’m feeling better. Not ALL better. Not necessarily “good”. Better, though. I’m better than I was, and that’s enough for me to celebrate. Adam and I have even been silly and playful, lately. He snags any opportunity to give my butt a slap or a squeeze. I’m enjoying sex again. I even catch myself smiling sometimes. Am I happy? Not exactly. I do get moments of what feels very much like happiness. There are these times where I almost forget why I’m not supposed to be ok. Why things aren’t ok. It’s not as if things are terrible. There are deep concerns troubling us and yet, we do manage to steal little pieces and parts of all that’s good around us, and they almost override the negative thoughts of our tomorrows and what they could bring. I have to remember to look for the joy that surrounds me. Remind myself that neither tears nor laughter will have any effect on the things I have no control over. It’s okay to put away my worries for awhile. Joy is permissible. It doesn’t mean I don’t care, or that I don’t remember where we are and what weighs on all of our minds so heavy. I’ve found myself planted inside a very different garden, but it’s okay to grow here too. I loved the garden I had. I invested so much into it. Wilting away where I’m at won’t change what’s been done. I can’t have some of the flowers that once grew inside my old garden with me, but I can choose to make this new garden beautiful, too. So, that’s what I’m hoping for these days. I just have to believe that God has got this. God is my gardener. He’s working to pull the weeds, water, and provide sunlight for this garden. It’s only right that I should recognize and readily accept these gifts that can help me to grow strong and healthy again. After all, He never promised anybody tomorrow. Each and every day that I get to wake up is an opportunity to show gratitude for what I’ve been given today. Crying over yesterday, or tomorrow, only hurts my today. Nothing I do can change yesterday or tomorrow. I only have today, and today wasn’t so bad.

If I could find assurance
To leave you behind
I know my better half would fade
And all my doubts
Is a staircase for you
Opened out of this maze

The first step is the one you believe in
The second one might be profound

I’ll follow you down through the eye of the storm
Don’t worry I’ll keep you warm
I’ll follow you down
While we’re passing through space
I don’t care if we fall from grace
I’ll follow you down

I’ll follow you down to where forever lies
Without a doubt, I’m on your side
There’s nowhere else that I would rather be
I’m not about to compromise
Give you up to say goodbye
I’ll guide you through the deep
I’ll keep you close to me

~SHINEDOWN

I’ve always heard that anger is a secondary emotion. That anger comes from hurt, fear, guilt, sadness. It’s not something you feel on its own. While I do believe that to be accurate, anger seems to be the prevailing emotion taking over all others, right now. At least for me it is. Adam hasn’t expressed any anger around me. I wonder if he allows that to come out when he’s alone? Does he hide it from me? Or is it possible he just isn’t pissed off, like I am? I don’t want “vengeance”. All I really hope for, is to be done. Done with the people who don’t provide any more positive value to me or to my family. Done worrying about what’s going to happen today, tomorrow, and in the months to come. Done lying awake at night, running over and over in mind all of the possible “what ifs” that haunt my thoughts. Done answering questions and giving explanations to everyone texting and calling me to tell me whatever twisted version of this shit they’ve heard, either from Jackie herself, or passed down in this fucked up game of “telephone”. Every time it’s retold, new outrageous embellishments are added. I just want to be left alone. Is that so much to ask?

I barely have it in me to discuss anything other than the superficial with Adam. I so want to be able to put my upset into a “box”, so that I can keep it tucked away and find a little bit of normalcy again. But, it’s like trying to cram a gallon of water into a container that only holds an ounce. It spills out and pours into every other part of my days and nights. There’s nowhere to hide. It’s truly exhausting.

All I know for sure, is that I’ve got my husband’s back. Anybody who doesn’t like it can fuck right off. I will dissolve relationships with anyone who threatens my family. I don’t care how long I’ve known you, or how much I’ve invested in a relationship with you. I can absolutely manage without you. I’m ashamed that I’ve allowed people who’ve already shown me how willing and able they are to hurt me, to be part of my own happiness. I’m choosing to focus on who I have around me right now. The ones who actually love me like I’ve loved them. The ones who smile when I do, and cry when I do. I’ve learned that just because someone matters to me, doesn’t mean it’s reciprocated. I can’t fix anyone else. It isn’t enough to love someone. I have to take my peace back. My joy. My life. It won’t all be solved today, tomorrow, or the next day. It won’t take forever, though. I might not be able to see it yet, but there has to be a time coming when I can stop holding my breath. When I can put my pieces back together. Every time I’ve felt shattered like this, it’s the process of making myself whole again that reminds me of just how capable I am. I figure out again what and who I really want around me. I’m much more careful about who I share myself and my family with. Somehow, this anger is giving me strength. I’m determined to make it to the other side, because I’ll be damned if anyone is going to steal what I’ve spent my life working for. I’m taking back my power.

Tonight the monsters in my head
Are screaming so damn loud
But I built walls so high
So they never even make a sound

It’s a mask, it’s a lie
It’s the only home I’ve ever known
‘Cause being who I really am
Has only left me more alone

I am not okay
And I need you to see it
I have so much to say
And no one to hear it
The reason I keep quiet
With so much at stake
I always feel like a burden, let it silence me
You’ll never understand
Why it’s so hard to say
I’m not okay

I’ll never have the words, I can’t explain this hell
But what if it kills me
If I keep it to myself?
To myself

~Citizen Soldier

A few days ago, last Thursday to be exact, I was very much not okay. It’s so fucking hard to explain the reasons why, inside my blog, when I can’t talk about the biggest “pieces” that make up this ugly and terrifying “puzzle”. It involves my kids, in a big way. While Jackie isn’t entirely responsible for this shit, she sure as hell contributed everything she could to it. I drive myself insane, trying to understand why. Not only this, but she recruited (or attempted to recruit) everyone close to me to participate in harming my husband and children as much as possible. She did manage to gather one of the people I’d never have expected would abandon me, or even be interested in listening to “my side” to this chaos. I’m so consumed with worries for my family right now, I have no more room inside myself to fight for relationships with anyone who can’t see or doesn’t care about what this is doing to me. It really is true, when life gets tough, you find out who actually does have your back. Who genuinely means it, when they promise they’ll always be here for you.

It’s almost impossible, to find words to express how I was feeling, last Thursday. I spent the entire day desperately trying to find something, anything, to believe in. I began to fantasize about my handgun that’s currently stored at my dad’s house, because we can’t have guns in our house until after Adam’s case is finished. He was charged with “domestic assault”. We’ve got attorneys who assure us the worst case scenarios that play over in our minds are almost certainly not going to happen. Still, the fears take over me. I made Hawaiian hot ham and cheese sandwiches, for supper. I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat anything. I attempt to force myself, and gag almost immediately after I put food inside my mouth. I lost 7 pounds in a week. That accounts for more than 7% of my entire body weight, which is becoming downright dangerous. My hot ham and cheese sandwiches are Mj’s favorite meal. I thought about making this supper for my family, and then finding an excuse to leave the house, so I could make my way over to my dad’s house. I knew he wasn’t home. I pleaded with God, please help me to see the things I used to. Where is the light? How do I begin to crawl out from inside this hole I’m stuck so deep inside? I didn’t want to ask Adam for help, because he’s struggling with just as much as I am. More, in fact. I don’t want my babies to see the pure hopelessness I’m battling. It’s such an intensely lonely place to be. I’m trapped inside a private hell, and I can’t tell anyone about it. My kids were smiling, and sat in the kitchen with me, telling me all about their days. The evening passed by quickly, and I never left the house. Instead, when Adam and I got into the shower, I experienced an absolute breakdown. I sat on the shower floor, and I yelled and sobbed uncontrollably. I got angry. All of these emotions I’ve fought so hard to keep within myself came flowing from me like water from a fire hydrant. There was so much built-up pressure behind them, once they started to come out, I was helpless to stop it. I told Adam, “I can’t find it. I don’t see it. I just want OUT!” Adam wrapped me in his arms, and begged me trust him, when he promises we’re going to be okay. He insists, he has contingency plans for every possible scenario. He asked me to please stop trying to pretend I’m alright, because I think I need to protect him. He sees my hurt. He feels my pain and worry. I see his, too. He’s carrying the weight of the guilt he feels, because we’re all going through this hell. He accepts all the responsibility for his family’s struggles. He blames only himself, but I don’t. I believe every one of us, who were involved, has a part they contributed. Some were bigger than others, but we all helped to create this mess. I know both Adam and I would give anything to be able to go back and do it better.

As Adam held me, on the floor of our shower, I looked into his eyes. Despite the shower water running down our faces, his tears were evident. His eyes were red, and full of concern. This only added to my own guilt and sadness. I’ve never seen my husband like this. Of course, he’s never seen me this way, either. We spent over 90 minutes, talking, crying, and clinging to one another inside our shower. Adam suggested maybe I should go talk with my doctor, about these physical and emotional symptoms I’m experiencing. I shook my head, and I told him I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to have any kind of pills that might slow down my body and brain, right now. He knew what I meant by that.

On Friday morning, something had changed within me. Although our circumstances were no different, the heaviness inside me seemed to have lightened significantly. I put music on, for the first time since this mess had been made, and I began to tackle the mess inside my home. I cleaned my kitchen. I got myself dressed. I made our bed. Mj and I made some monkey bread together. I washed, dried, folded, and put away four loads of laundry. When Adam got home from work, I smiled at him. He lit up and told me that was the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He hadn’t seen me smile, in way too long. I made it through the entire weekend, without waking up only seeing and feeling darkness. I’m still afraid. I’m still hurting. I still can’t quite figure out how to get “me” back, or whether that’s even possible. Maybe I’ll just be different? As if a part of me has died.

I am consoled by the pact I made, with myself. I will not do anything to remove myself from this fire I’m fighting, unless. Only I know what that unless is. I listened to another song, whose words spoke perfectly the way it can feel, sometimes. It says,

“There’s a house that’s on fire deep inside of my mind. I’ve been stuck in the wreckage. I was taught I should hide. There’s an open window. Smoke is getting high. It’s gonna tear me to pieces, being forced to decide. Do I jump like a failure? Let it burn me alive? Should I feel guilty for running out of time?”

I say none of this for sympathy or attention. My writing here is the one and only place I can be brutally honest, without consequence. I can’t share my personal truths anywhere else. Dr. Phil says our “personal truths” are what we tell ourselves, when we’re all alone with ourselves. When we take off the “social masks” we wear, in front of everyone else. When we’re forced to look at ourselves honestly and reveal all the ugliness we attempt to keep concealed. This is simply mine. It’s not pretty, or socially acceptable. It isn’t what I’m supposed to say or feel or think or do. So, I write about all of it, and then I go put back on my “mask”. I want nothing more than to get back to a place where I don’t feel required to hide my ugliest parts from even the people closest to me. For now, I suppose I’m just doing my best to “fake it til I make it”. I hate that all I can write about is this sorrow and utter despair I’m fighting with. I wish I could be saying, feeling, thinking almost anything else. This is me, authentically, though. I’ve said from the start, I write about my real life. The truth is, I do have people who want to be here for me. I just can’t seem to let most anybody else “in”, right now. I trust almost no one. I have faith in nearly nothing. Words of encouragement seem hollow. Stop telling me it’s going to be okay! Please, just acknowledge these things that are plainly obvious to me. It isn’t okay. This isn’t right. How in the fuck can you tell me to “look up” while I’m still falling? All I can hope for is to finally find the bottom. Only then, can I possibly even begin to contemplate climbing back up and out of this.

Believe it or not, this is me in a much better headspace than I was, just a few days ago. So, there’s that. I’m going to go put some clothes on. I’ll do my hair and makeup, and I’ll do my best to cover up all these things I’m not ready or willing to let the rest of the world see. I imagine they’d all recoil in horror, anyway.