Tears, Tea, and POW's

Every night 11 pm my in laws go to sleep. Every night at 11:15 pm I go to the kitchen and make tea for Jigger and me. It doesn't matter what day of week it is or month of the year. Every night the same routine occurs except for last night. Last night as I leaned against the sink waiting for the tea to boil, suddenly and without warning, a tear slid down my cheek. 

I hadn't realized the thoughts in my head were so close to the surface. As I stood there, thinking. Thinking how I hate my life, how I want so desperately for it to be different. I realized I'm not even in survival mode anymore. I've gone completely into POW mode. I'm just trying to make the best of my situation until I can escape. Every free moment, every moment I can catch alone, I allow the thoughts of escape to enter my mind. I plan what I'll do my first day out. What I'll eat, where I'll go, what I'll wear. 

I feel so controlled, so helpless, so whiny. All I can do is propel myself forward and wait. Wait for the day when I don't have to bend to the will of another. The day when I don't feel hunger, when I can go to the store freely for the things I NEED, not WANT, but NEED. You know little things like tampons. I'm so high maintenance. I just want to be able to feel the sun on my skin again. To feel the breeze upon my face. To close my eyes and be encompassed by the wetness of the rain. 

I just want to be free.

Fraudulent Friendlies

Pet peeves. I have many. My biggest? Fakeness. Pretense. Specifically pretending to be interested and/or concerned about my well being when in reality you're not. I am not as stupid as I pretend to be. I see more than people realize. Call it a gift. A sixth sense. Whatever, but I'm not stupid. I don't understand why people do this. It makes no sense to me. If you want something from me, then just say that. Don't pretend to be my friend. Don't pretend to be concerned about me when you're not. Just be honest. Truthful Say what you want but don't act like you care for me when we both know you don't. 

Fucktarded people! Everything is just getting on my nerves lately. Little things that I usually could over look seem inflated a thousand times over. I just want to run. Far. Run. I want to be ok. Now. Not a year from now. Not two years from now, but NOW. I'm ready to LIVE not just SURVIVE but I can't. I'm still in survival mode. I can't come out of it. Not now. If I did then I would lose everything. I'm still not out. I still have a long way to go before I'm out, but I'm ready to be out NOW. I want out NOW.

Riding the Emotional Roller Coaster

For the last two days, I've been battling the inner me. The me that worries and overreacts. The me that panics and freaks out if someone doesn't reply immediately. The me that fears rejection and will do anything to please you. The me that hates the me that will do anything to please you. 

There are a lot of me's. 

I've started my own business which is good and bad. Good because it helps me to be independent and work from home. Bad because I suck at dealing with people. I don't understand them. I don't know what their actions and words truly mean. These last two days I've battling the me that wanted to email contracted clients because they have been distant lately. 

I have been listening to the me that worries if it is because they are unhappy with me, if they are planning on leaving me, sneaking off in the night to find another partner. The 1.5% of my brain that is capable of having rational thoughts keeps telling me that all of these thoughts are untrue. That I haven't done anything wrong. That they are happy with me. These 2.3 brain cells that understand my clients are in between projects and on a mini vacation visiting their family back in their original homestate realize everything is ok and I just need to chill, but the other 4537829 parts of my inner being are totally freaking out. 

Those few rational brain cells are screaming at me to not do something stupid. There was a time not long ago I would have never listened to them. I would have gone sniveling and snotting to ask what had I done wrong, why was there this distance between us that wasn't there before. What did it mean? Were they leaving me? I've kept busy. Kept my hands busy. My mind busy. Even if the busy was watching pointless reality tv shows. It kept me from emailing and that was the end goal. 

Not doing something stupid. Not creating that thing which I fear most. I need that constant physical connection. I don't trust it's still there if I am not physically "touching" them. Since they are oceans away, my physical touch is email. When I don't hear from them, I panic. I know on some level things are ok but on other levels it is hard to believe. Even with Jigger, I cannot sleep unless I am physically touching him. Reassuring the inner me's that he really is there. It doesn't matter how late or little I've slept. Within 5 mins of Jigger getting up, I instantly become awake. The emptiness beside me is like a screaming banshee forcing me to awaken. If he takes too long in the shower I can feel the panic creeping in. I hate being this way. I can hide it to some extent but when it begins to overwhelm I need to reach out. Luckily for me my clients emailed me today to tell me a joke. It calmed me. Reassured me of their presence. They hadn't disappeared. They were still there. 

Still connected to me. 

So far it seems to be working. I just hope it keeps on.

Human Repellant

Silently I watch the world pass before me. A silent observer of humanity, watching as its participants interact in a play I don't seem to be a part of. There are times they call me forth and I  get hopeful. Hopeful that this time I'll remain, but it never is to be. Only for a short while am I allowed into their inner sanctum. To be tossed out once again. Never knowing what it is about me that causes them to run away. Why I seem to have to hold onto them so tightly, until my grip fails me and they slip free. 

It always happens. The one certainty that exists in the ever changing chaos that is my world.

At first I feel sorrow. A deep ache within me longing to be wanted. Longing to be a part of something. Anything. Longing to feel remembered, but a reality it shall never be. I shall spend eternity in the land of in between. A shadowy figure lurking at the edges of humanity. Unwanted. Unnoticed. Discarded.

Be the Pan and Crow

Yesterday's events just make me realize how grown up I have to be. Three days ago Jigger and I had some issues, but the second his phone rang I let go. They ceased to exist. His need for me was/is more important than my need of being right. It reminds me of how "grown up" I have to be. How the world sits on my shoulders, a female Atlas. I look at others and I long for their freedom. I long to be selfish. I long to put my needs before others. 

I look at them in awe and wonder how they do it. My BIL has sat here for almost 4 years without working. Never once did it ever cross his mind that he needs to do something. He feels no shame for sitting while others work 18 hr days, seven days a week. He feels no shame when he buys new clothes while others are torn and stitched together. How do people do that? Sometimes I want to be like that.

To be able to just take all that is mine and feel no guilt. No burden in existing. No thought of what I might be placing upon another. No worry or fear that my taking means someone else might do without. To just be so effortlessly. I long for that. 

I don't know  what that feels like. Not even as a child. The peace of our house rested upon my shoulders. I could never just be. Could never just spin in circles and then fall dizzy to the ground. Could never close my eyes and just run through the breeze. Could never just breathe. Responsibility is something I seem to have been born with. While I am responsible, I am also resentful in many ways. I resent my BIL's ability to sit and not worry that I have to work so hard to support HIS family. I resent it when I'm asked if I want something and I say no and they don't realize that I really do WANT it but I'm too shy to say "yes". Too fearful of rejection. Too afraid of disappointing. Of becoming a burden. Too worried about hurting someone or making them feel the way I feel inside. 

Then I think of  my children. Of the reasons of the distance separating us. I become angry. Angry at those who so easily cast me aside and brand a letter upon me. Yet they never look in the mirror to see their own brand. I get angry at myself for remaining silent in the wake of their accusations. For not defending myself. For not exposing their own decay. For being a helper of theirs in hiding the rot they carry within them. By allowing them to declare the rot that is theirs to be mine. I become enraged at myself that I am unable to break this cycle. Unable to speak what is inside of me. Unable to be hurtful and vengeful even if it means I am the loser. 

If I can't even defend myself, then how can I expect anyone else to? When I'm unwilling or unable to speak up for my own basic needs. NEEDS. Not WANTS. There's a difference. So if I can't fulfill my own needs then why am I so surprised when others don't either? After all these years I still am shocked when I'm forgotten. Overlooked. Ignored. I don't know why it still surprises me so. I should be use to it by now but somehow each time is like the first. I seem to forget all the times before. I don' t know why. 

Maybe it's because I really do believe in fairies.

Innocence Misunderstood

Jigger came home for a little while this morning and then left again to go to the funeral. While he was here I was asking him what had happened. If his friend had been sick and things like that. He was telling me all about it. Then he was telling me about his friend's 5 year old daughter.

He said she was so excited to have so many people there. All of her family and friends. She was running around playing and kept asking "why you so sad" to her mom and uncles. He said for him that was the hardest part. Watching her and her complete unknowing that her father won't be home from work tonight or ever again. He said he felt so heart broken for her because now she is so happy but soon her world is going to change and she won't even understand why.

I could see so much of myself in that little girl. I could see her future. Her emptiness. The hole that will grow inside of her as she grows and she won't even understand why the hole is there. But she'll know it's there. She'll try to fill it with odds and ends that don't quite properly fit, but no matter what she does that hole will remain. Until either she surrenders and accepts it as a part of her or it consumes her and she disappears inside of it.

There is also a two year old who'll grow up never knowing what an amazing father he had. Never knowing that which he lost. It seems such a waste. Three young children fatherless. One minute he was totally fine and the next erased. 

Jigger was going to help him in his business. Some advertising and things for him, but now that'll forever remain unfinished. It's strange how yesterday the world was one color but today it is another. Spinning and turning on while we sit. Helplessly being tossed about where it sees fit. Passengers on an unwanted journey. Stopping at destinations that are not our own. I'm ready to get off now. 

This is my stop.

Kick to the Gut

Life seems to throw curve balls from every direction, but this one just I don't even know how to process. An extremely close friend of Jigger's just died. As in Jigger just got the phone call about an hour before I started writing this. He immediately left to go to his friend's house. He was shaking when he left. It's a complete and total shock. The friend was in his 30's so to die from a sudden heart attack was totally unexpected. 

Jigger was devastated. He most likely will be gone until tomorrow after the funeral. I don't even know how to process it. There is so much shit going on between Jigger and me and it all seems so silly and petty now. Jigger and I are the same age as his friend. It makes me think what if tomorrow I woke up and Jigger wasn't here. How would I function? I'm not quite sure. 

All I know is for the next days/weeks/months I've got to hold my shit together. For him. This will rock Jigger's world. It will take him a long time to get over this. Actually he'll never really get over it but he'll get past it.

Connecting the Dots

I was looking at the prompts for Smash365. A lot of my posts are inspired by their prompts. The prompt a day or so ago was interconnectedness. It was based upon the idea of  six degrees of separation. That we are all only separated by six people. This got me thinking about how I connect to myself and my surroundings. 

I have very little if any attachment to "things". I don't save things even from when my children were little. There is no feeling of attachment or connection to any "thing". I am the complete opposite of a hoarder. I throw EVERYTHING out if I haven't used it in a month, then it's gone. I can't stand to have "things" sitting around regardless of what it is. It makes me feel crowded, suffocated. I'm not sure the reasoning behind this or what has made me feel so unattached to anything. 

Maybe I have been numb for so long. I have not allowed myself to "feel" close to anyone out of fear of rejection. Maybe that feeling of not being close to someone has become so ingrained in me that I have transferred it from people to things. I honestly don't know. 

Sometimes I wish I could be attached to something. A place. A person. A reason. Even if an attachment begins to form, it usually fades out pretty quickly. Either I get disappointed or hurt or rejected. Sometimes it's real and sometimes it's my perception of rejection. I so easily let go of things. If I do get a hold of anything, then I sabotage it and push it away. I think I would rather let it go than have it leave me.

But considering I sat in the lap of the Ghamdi brothers when I was 6 I truly believe in six degrees of separation.

Relativity

I just realized I have not posted since Tuesday. In my mind it seems like just a few hours ago. I have an extremely hard time keeping track of  time. Mostly because I have no clear definition of days. I work nights and do the exact same thing every single day. There is no change. No difference. One day bleeds into the next. If it were not for the date on my computer I would have no clue what day, month, week, year it is. At times it kinda scares me that I can lose so much time. 

It's not like it's lost as in I don't have any memory. It's just I don't realize how much of it has passed. I get so focused on what I'm doing that I put blinders on and lose all concept of time, space, and surroundings. Everything becomes one dimensional and it becomes difficult  for me to see beyond the two feet directly in front of me. My surroundings disappear to an extent that I lose all sense of where I am and what I'm doing. I become so wrapped up in the moment that I often "forget" to do things such as eating, sleeping, showering. 

It's difficult to put into words exactly how tunneled and narrowed my vision gets. In my current circumstances this isn't necessarily that big of a problem. I run my own business from my home. My work is mainly online. Since they haven't invented scratch n sniff monitors it really doesn't matter if I haven't showered or  brushed my hair in a few days. However my circumstances are also a major contributing factor of me losing all touch with my surroundings. 

I have no clue what is going on in the world. I don't watch TV or read the paper. I wake up do my work. I eat because Jigger does. I sleep because Jigger does. Although I don't necessarily go to sleep when he does and I wake up hours before him. I do at least lay down and stare at the ceiling. It's very disorienting when I realize that I have become so detached from what is going on around me. 

Like now realizing it's been so many days since I posted. I wonder where the time went. Did that much time truly pass? Or is someone playing a trick on me? It's one thing to not remember what day it is. It's another to look at a calendar, see the day, and be unable to tell if it's real or if you've not comprehended it properly. I constantly verify with Jigger about the day/date/time/month/year. Just to be sure that what my  calendar says is correct. 

Last year I had a problem with my computer and it started losing time, but I had no idea the time on my computer was not correct. It was Friday, but I thought it was Wednesday simply because my computer said so. The only reason I figured it out was because the time finally started getting so far behind that I asked my husband why we were eating 2 hrs earlier than we normally did. Realizing that your world is not what you believe it to be is a very scary feeling and considering my history of delusions, it makes it even scarier. 

I force myself to keep touch with my surroundings. Whenever I realize how far removed I've become, I will try  to read the paper online, but it only lasts a couple days. Then I slowly start slipping away. I could live happily on a deserted island  with just some pineapple and bananas.

Another Day Ended

Deep breaths. Slow to inhale. Allowing my lungs to expand until they almost burst. Then slowly releasing the air from its confinement. I listen to the  sound my breath makes as it enters and exits my body. Repetitive. Consistent. In. Out. If only people were that simple. If only I could understand what it is they want and give it to them. If only I knew what I was suppose to be/do/become. 

I hate asking for help. That's not really true. I hate NEEDING help. I hate the feeling that I cannot do something without HAVING  to ask someone to help me. At the moment, I need a lot of help. I hate asking. I hate needing. I hate that feeling of dependency. Of being dependent on another. Because people are undependable. People are not to be relied upon. They let you down. It's easier to do by myself for myself. Except now I'm too far in. I can't get out. I have to depend on others. I have to wait for them to let me down. 

I worry when I need to ask others for help. People have limits. They only help you when they get  something in return, but when you have nothing to give in return, then no one wants to help you. The minute you no longer benefit them you're forgotten. Tossed aside. Unwanted. Discarded. Replaceable. 

This is why I don't ask others for help. This is why I don't want to NEED help from others. Others disappoint you. I learned this from my mother. A woman I could not depend on to protect me when I needed protection. To support me when I needed encouragement. To hold my hand when I needed a friend. She  taught me people are unreliable. They break their word. They remember you when they want something and forget you when they don't. She taught me people cannot be trusted.  

What's funny though is that I've come so far in my life even though I have so little because of the lessons taught to me by my mother. When you have nothing, you do one of two things. Surrender or fight. I've been fighting for 34 years. I'm ready for the bell to ring. I'm ready to take a break from fighting. There has to be more. Something invisible. Hiding in the crevices. Just beyond my reach. There just has to be. I guess that is why I'm crazy because I believe in things I've never seen, never touched, never known. I believe they exist and I search for them. I throw away that which is in front of for that which may or may not actually be. 

I hate myself for the person I am becoming. A whiny, complaining, needy female. I hate those females. With a fervor that I cannot put into words. I don't want to be the person I see myself becoming. I fight hard against it but the harder I fight the more I become that which I fight against. I don't want to be needy. I don't want to be whiny. I don't want to be the person I am. But I don't know how to change the reflection in the mirror. Some days I wonder what lies beneath my skin. If I peeled it off, would I find that which I seek? Is that where the magical world between fight and surrender is? Beneath the layers of my skin. 

My fingers ache.  My bones ache. My eyes sore from the continuous overflow. My soul aches. A pain so deep that it rocks my core. An ache that I want to cut from my chest. To rip it out and stomp on it. To make it cease to exist. To scream at it. To unleash the wrath that is bottled inside of me upon it. To take vengeance for all the wrongs. To feel I deserving of vengeance. To understand the purpose of being here. 

What was the purpose of my creation? To be a toy for a father whose hands roamed in places no father's hands should have. To be forgotten by a mother whose only concern was getting fucked. To be broken by a husband who took pleasure in pain. To be tossed aside. Discarded when the new wore off. Understanding. Maybe that is what is hiding in the crevices. Deep within. Just beyond my reach. 

Understanding and purpose. Time to inhale.

Nothingness

Creating and discovering spirit guides to accompany you on the journey can help you tap into your own strength and courage. The spirit guide is a personification of those forces inside you that enable you to face the murky depths of your subconscious and create from them. The guide can be invoked every time you sit down to write — or only when you find the going particularly rough. The guide may be nothing more than an image in your mind, but giving it physical form can add to its potency.

When we make the decision to write about subjects that are more difficult than others to explore, the support we need can often be found within. What spirit guides do you have within yourself that support you when writing about these difficult themes? What can you do to summon them more quickly when writing to provide strength and courage?

I haven't written in a long time. Not really written. I miss being able to. I miss searching for words to put on paper (or screen) what it is that is flowing through me. I miss the escape that writing brings for me. I have somehow lost myself over the last few weeks. I have turned deep within myself and can't seem to find my way out. I feel myself starting to break down. Slowly. One piece at a time. I feel the pieces as they break away and fly off into the wind. The strange thing is as each piece breaks, the pain becomes  less. It makes me want to let go. It makes me believe if I release my grip then it'll all be ok except it won't be ok. I just won't be aware of the chaos swirling about me. 

I'm struggling. Holding onto reality by the tips of my fingers. Last night I think Jigger realized it. He realized for the first time just how fragile my mind can be. I put on such a strong front. I have built a very strong wall around me. From the outside I appear normal, stable, functioning, but from the inside I am rotted, withering, and in disrepair. Last night he saw the rot. He saw the damaged parts of me I don't let him see. Except last night I couldn't hold the wall up. I couldn't fight anymore. The fight has gone out of me. I'm weak. Tired. 

I use to feel something within me. Something that pushed me forward. Something that made me push through the turmoil and chaos, but now I feel emptiness. Nothingness. I am starting to become resigned to my fate. I feel myself ready to just fall backwards into the abyss. I balance on the edge. I can feel the dirt smooshed between my toes as I grip the edge. Teetering. 

Last night I almost fell in, but Jigger caught me right before I lost my grip. Today it was Sam's turn to catch me before I fell, but I wonder how many times will they be there to catch me? How many more times before I fall? How many more times before the vortex consumes me entirely? How many more times before I crumble? 

My body aches. Physically aches from the pain within. I want to crawl inside myself and disappear. I want to escape the pain that is bubbling in my chest. I want to be the nothingness.

Nothing Else To Do

I've been crying for 48 hrs and it's starting to piss me off. It just won't stop. The pain. The ache inside it's too much. I have no idea what I'm going to do. No idea where to run. Where I can just disappear into nothingness. But yet the tears don't stop falling. Everyone is looking to me to fix it. To make it better. Everyone depends on me but I'm so weak. So unstable. I can't bear their weight. They are hungry but there is no food.No money. 

What am I suppose to do? Apparently cry because that is all I seem to be capable of doing for the last two fucking days. The more I try to stop them from coming the more they fall. I don't know what to do. Who to trust anymore. Every time I trust someone they use me, toss me aside. Break me in ways I didn't know I could be broken and yet I stupidly trust again. When will I learn? I can trust no one. If they breathe, they are untrustable. I am alone.

Naughtilicious

I was very naughty today. I cut about two inches of dead ends off of my hair. I know. I live on the edge. Jigger doesn't want me to cut my hair so I don't. While he wouldn't say anything if I did, I know it would hurt his feelings so I don't. Even though I hate my hair the way it is. I still don't cut it. But I have split and dead and funkdafied ends which are driving me crazy so every few months I cut about two inches off hoping he won't notice that my hair seems to be in the same spot for the last year instead of growing. 

I've always been a freak with my hair. There is not a color of the rainbow it has not been at one time or another. I've even invented a few colors for it to be. I shaved the side of my head long before Mel C or B or nutmeg whatever spice she was did it. I've had braids. Been albino white blond and elvira black dark. 

My obsession with having outrageous hair began with not being allowed to cut it or do anything with it til I was almost 9. I've always had very bad migraines and at 8 my hair was Crystal Gailish. My doc told my mum to cut my hair that it would help with the headaches. My mum did NOT want to do it but finally agreed that I could cut it up to about the middle of my back but NO SHORTER!

However mum couldn't watch the actual cutting process and was rather emotional while telling the stylist how short so after mum left the room the stylist asks lil ol' innocent angel me how short and I say just below the ears. Needless to say I got my ass whipped with a switch when I got home but it was worth it. I smiled the whole time which only made her hit me more but I didn't care. I won. From that forward I was determined to be as outrageous as I could be. 

I know I'm such a rebel.

Am I Really the Crazy One

I've been in a funk the last few weeks. Sometimes up. Sometimes down. Sometimes so angry I want to strangle the heads off chickens, and sometimes I couldn't give a flying monkey fuck if the sky fell. While my emotional state is in constant flux, I'm not an evil person, and when I look around at the things that people do I truly wonder is it me that is crazy?

I mean I don't intentionally harm others. I go out of my way to help others to the point of being detrimental to my own well being. I don't feel entitled to things. Even though I was raised very poor, as an adult I never sat around on my ass, collecting welfare/benefits, and popping out little hooligans once a year. At 20, I actually went to my doc and said seal the hole I don't want nothing else popping out of there because apparently birth control did not work on me which is why I have two children that are barely one year apart. I knew I wasn't capable of raising more so I plugged that hole up for good. If I have and you come to me, I'll glad share whatever I have however little it may be. I'm understanding and appreciative of the different cultures, ethnicities, and people around the world. I love to learn and experience things I've never seen or tasted or touched or heard before. 

Yet I'm crazy. And the world that is rioting, looting, killing, intolerant, prejudice, ignorant, unwilling to learn or accept the differences of others. That is sane. I just don't get it. It makes no sense to me. 

In my everyday existance, I'm often ignored, forgotten, overlooked, not included and basically unless it's time for me to give the household allowance I pretty much cease to exist. Because I don't force myself or my wants/desires/needs on others, then people tend to not care if I'm ok or if something has happened to me, but yet I'm the crazy one and they are all sane. 

Since I've started blogging I've met such wonderful people. People who miss my presence when it's absent, do the smallest thing of sending emails/comments/tweets/messages to see if I'm ok, or just to say they were thinking of me. It's the oddest thing to me. As a child I use to get locked out of the house at night because I would be sitting outside under the trees and no one ever even noticed that I wasn't in the house yet people online notice and it's very odd. I don't know how to respond or how to feel. I don't know what my reaction to them should be. At times I feel obligated and at other times I feel overwhelmed at their care. And of course there is the paranoid side of me that thinks, what do they want, what is their true intention, are they trying to trick me, harm me, hurt me?

But the strangest thing of all is that every single person online who remembers me, who checks on me, who shows genuine concern for me is also crazy. 

Though their label might be BPD or anxiety or insert label here, but every single one of them falls into the category of crazy/disordered/insane/insert other stigma word here. The people I interact with online who are NOT crazy/disordered/insane/insert other stigma word here never notice when I'm gone. Never email or comment to offer a kind word of encouragement, support. Now I'm not saying all non disordered/non crazy people are like this, but so far my experiences with them is not very good.

And it makes me wonder am I really the crazy one?

Swept Away

Shallow winds dance around me as I stand in the mist. 

Watching the leaves twirling and dancing as they kiss the ground before being tossed into oblivion. 

A silent observer of their sacrifice. 

I wonder if I too could be made to disappear so easily.

If somehow the wind swirling about me could reach inside of me and pull that which is me out,

then toss me away.

My meaning and existence snuffed out in one quick puff.

As the wetness of the sky falls upon me  I close my eyes

as the coolness of the wind dances through me

This is for 100 word prompt at Velvet Verbosity. Prompt is STORM.