Off to the races

My mind is racing. My heart beat is Mach 5. Rotten dreams stirred up fears and emotions that I long ago processed.

I want to run until I'm tired. I want some sort of physical activity to break the chain of thoughts.

I'm supposed to be heading to Mass, where in the still and quiet, I should be able to speak to God from the depths of my soul. But I'm afraid I'll sob in front of my child.

A child who doesn't need to know the pain running around in my head. This is the time when it gets dangerous for me. I want to hurt myself, just to let my brain find some other source of pain to cling to.
My shrink tells me to write it out when I get like this. That bringing this insanity out of my head and on to paper for others to see will help. That bringing this shame out of the dark and into The Light will give me more control. That sharing this secret might help me conquer this silent shame.

For almost 20 years I've subjected myself to pain that has left my body riddled with scars. It's time for me to face this, grab this demon by the hand, and force him to march alongside me. So I can show this demon that he can't hide inside my head any more. That others know about my secret.

And that I'm going to fight this out instead of hiding and hurting.

*Whovians will understand this reference. A friend sent it to me. Seems there is a Doctor reference for everything in life.

Go The F*ck To Sleep: The Play

Scene:
           Living Room-- Mother and Son prepare to read a bed time story.  Mother is feeling very proud and slightly superior at this moment for she is ENGAGING Son's imagination and EXPANDING his vocabulary and IMPARTING wisdom.  (Large action words indicates that Mother is envisioning the day that when Son accepts Nobel Humanitarian World Record Prize for his works in the field of Neuro-Literature-Artology, he will recall this evening.)

7:15--Aesop's Fables read

7:30--Son tucked into bed, nightly orisons occur.

7:35--Mother begins work plays on Pintrest; Son announces from top of the stairs that he has to clip a hangnail.

7:37--Son pronounces that all toe nails and several finger nails need to be clipped.  Mother makes mental note to sweep bathroom floor as it is now littered.

7:45--Son bounces down the stairs, pleads for Mother to re-tuck him into bed.  Mother pauses video of duck skate-boarding to act in a maternal fashion.

8:05--Mother hears footsteps overhead.  Sighing, she stops looking at food porn and addresses Son.  He inquires as to her nightly routine, as he is unable to sleep without knowing when she will be finished "working" on the computer.

8:07--Son is re-re-tucked into bed.  Mother wonders if any new articles on Cracked have been published since she was on at 5pm.

8:20--Son stomps downstairs, tears trailing down his face.  He is "sooooooooooooo hot!"  And "has a little bit of a headache, especially when I shake my head like this."  Son imitates wet dog shaking self dry.

8:30--Mother updates Facebook status with a sideways frowny face, informs sister that the new family dog will be named Sherlocka as 'Chelsea' is a stupid name. 

8:33--Mother realizes there is nothing to drink in the house which would give her a buzz, so she makes a cup of herbal tea.  House Mate makes pointless inquiry about Son not sleeping.  Mother wishes to roll eyes but refrains by digging her nails into her leg.

8:47--Mother, no longer dreaming that Son will live to see the an award winning future, much less next day, ascends stairs to threaten child with bodily harm if he rises from bed again. Son is re-re-re-tucked into bed.

10:22--Mother finally feels she has earned the right to relax.

Son has gone the fuck to sleep.

 

  

If Wishes Were Horses

Tonight I would give my left foot just for someone to hold and hug me while I cry.
I haven't slept well in days.
Stress has piled up: money issues, car accident problems, trolls and high school drama, doctors bills, health concerns, not making a sale at work yet, Jeremiah's schooling.
I know I have some wonderful friends and I am truly grateful.
But tonight I'm tired of having to depends on myself. And I'm tired that there's no one here to share the burden with me.
I hate being alone in this bed tonight.

I Will Not Break

Disclaimer for trolls reading this post: 

My writings tonight are not

 (nor have ever been) a cry for pity or sympathy.  

It's just me talking about how my fucked up head 

deals with stuff that happens in my life. 

 That's how I've always intended this blog to be.

I started hurting myself again tonight.

I lost two friends in the matter of 3 days.

I was publicly stomped on by a troll, but when I dared to defend myself, my now use to be friends advised me to stop writing for the public to read, that I should take down everything I've ever written about my ex.

Yesterday I was numb, today I was beating myself up.  Could there be things so awful that I had written that I don't recall?  Am I really so angry that I fail to realize that everything I write is about him?

So tonight as I realized I needed to write out my pain, rather than try to bleed it out of myself, I dove head first into the search engine on my blog.  I needed to see how many times I had allegedly  "misrepresented (my) ex-fiance."

You know how many times I made barest mention of my ex?  3 times.  In the span of 186 posts.

• engaged and ditched at the alter,
• I'm doing TONS better about the whole ex-fiance thing.  It's not like ending a relationship with a boyfriend, for heavens sake, I was ready to pledge my live to him!
• I hate that when my fiancee dumped me at the alter, claiming that I was not trustworthy and would probably have an affair, still angers me.  He came from a broken family, which saddens my heart.  He had problems that he was unable to see, but I still loved that foolish boy.  I know that I would not make the same mistakes and get involved with someone so damaged, but I am still afraid of trusting someone again.

For the love of cookie dough, I didn't even devote an entire post to him!  These are the only things I've publicly shared.

I'm not a bad person.  Looking at it now, I don't think I'm that angry about that relationship either.  If I were, shouldn't more of my writings be devoted to my angst/torch bearing to my ex, as I was accused by the troll.

I'm sad all this unnecessary drama has been stirred up.  I'm sad that a poisonous troll had such power over friends who have known me for over 13 years. 

I'm sorry that my words, spoken in confidence, where used against me.

So no, I won't stop writing.  I won't make my writings private.  Because I said nothing wrong in the first place.

Now I just need to convince my brain to let go of the hurt so I can stop the bleeding on my skin. 

Gone

I lost two friends today.  I really don't know what I feel.
A troll stepped in after four years and stirred up a pot of shit, to what end?
For three days my life became a weird day time high school drama. Why was I told to be the bigger man, and ignore what was being hurled at me? Why was I being told to stop writing? The crux of my writing wasn't about my ex, but about everything else in my life.
I talked to my therapist last night who told me I have every right to be upset. That I have a right to my own feelings of anger, hurt, and sadness.
Trolls suck.