I am old enough to know when I need help. Up until a few weeks ago I was asking, begging, pleading, crying for help from TK but he just simply didn’t care enough about me. You cannot make someone care no matter how hard you try. I wasted months of my life hoping something would change but it didn’t and during that time I sunk farther and farther down. I am now broken and immobile. Everything requires extra effort. I am trying to figure out how to fix myself but its going to be a long arduous process. I need to grieve. I need to get all of my anger and resentment out. I need to accept what I have done and live with my mistakes. That is going to take time. A long time. I can’t even fathom how long this will take me. I don’t care about myself right now and its obvious in my appearance and actions. I am fortunate that other people in my life are willing to breathe life into me because all I want to do is lie down.
The hardest thing I do each day is get out of bed and decide to live.
Every morning my cat Cubby wakes me up anywhere from 5 – 30 minutes before my alarm goes off. He starts mewing, rubbing his head on me, and kneading some part of my body. Then he does a few circles and flops down triumphantly, always sinking into my belly or legs. Even though some mornings I’d like to stay asleep a bit longer I have to admit kitty cuddles are not a bad thing to wake up to.
A gigantic fucking idiot. And I still fucking hate myself for being such a fucking idiot. Why did I ever believe that such an irresponsible drunken mess would ever take responsibility for his actions? I’m a wreck. I can hide it for the most part through the day but when I get home I fall apart. All I can do is sit and cry. Everything is difficult. I can’t handle anything, I can hardly take care of myself. All I want to do is to not hurt anymore and that is never going to happen. I have nothing left. Any good I manage is just because I am going through the motions to try to survive another day. There is nothing left inside me that is worth saving. I would say I’m dead inside but I’m not – if I was I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep every evening. I had hoped by finally admitting what happened I would feel better, but I don’t. I feel even worse. I can’t forgive myself for being such an idiot and letting someone ruin me. I thought he was going to help me, instead he killed what was left of me. I cannot heal from this. Someone finally broke me. Congratulations you win.
While visiting my friend Amanda in Ohio I told her I wanted to see a psychic. She gave me the slightly crazy eye and I told her I had no idea why I wanted to go I just did. Obviously I’m in a very odd place in my life right now and I guess I thought I needed some outside supernatural insight. Well I didn’t see a psychic (yet), but the awesome folks at Tarot.com hooked me up with a free tarot card reading for my birthday so I thought I would share it – along with my thoughts.
(After I wrote the above paragraph I went searching for a cartoon to put in the post – I fucking lol’d my ass off at this totally coincidental comic *disclaimer – I have no telepathic powers).
So to get this thing started I had to ask a question. I debated for a moment but went with the obvious: will I ever get over having an abortion? (bad phrasing/choice of words but I’m emotional dammit) [click to evolve…]
Today is my birthday but I really don’t care. I’m 33 in case you want to know how old I am now. I guess you could say there are some positive things in my life I should be happy about but I just can’t seem to care. Throughout my life I have been good at faking happiness. I can throw on a smile, chat up anyone, and laugh all night if I have to. But this past year I got tired of faking it. I couldn’t take it anymore and it was apparent to most everyone something was wrong with me. Just over a week ago I posted an open letter to the guy I was sort of dating this past year, Eugene Lee (aka TK), on my personal Facebook page. Anyone who wanted to read it could know the truth about why I was so unhappy. I thought by finally telling the truth I would feel better. I didn’t. In fact I felt even worse because I finally allowed myself to fully experience all of the sadness I had been trying to hold in. Today I am finally going to open up here on EOC about my misery. Why? I don’t really know. I guess because I can’t take it anymore. I am overwhelmed by sadness every day. I break down crying on a regular basis. I write how I am feeling every evening but then I never post anything because I am so ashamed. So today I am simply going to start telling my stories. I will lose friends, I will lose respect, I will lose my reputation, but hopefully somehow I will find myself.
August 30th is my birthday, but August 3rd was my child’s birthday. Or it would have been. In reality that is an estimate – August 3rd was my due date but obviously I have not had a child. Instead I aborted my chance at motherhood. [click to evolve…]
