Here is my blog entry for National Pity Party Day.
My first complaint above all is sleep. I’ve said it a hundred times if not more, I need good sleep. I need sleep without nightmares. I get kind of tired of writing about that on the blog because it’s like, well, nothing’s changed. Why don’t I just move on, act like sleep is regular, pretend that at night I’m a 36 year old woman who doesn’t remember that 4 nights out of 7 were met with violence from 3 to 20. It’s been 16 years since I lived at home but it’s not like I don’t see and hear home at every turn. It’s like being Catholic or Baptist or Presbyterian, Mormon or any other religion a person grows up with. The ideas, valid or invalid, are in your head and you see the entire world through those views. I’m getting really tired of my “religion.” It’s taken a toll on my health, on my mind and my spirit. It makes me weak physically and emotionally. Can I declare myself an atheist from this early form of thought? After all, my mother did set herself up as God. I don’t want to give my entire life over to that god. I recognize the authority this particular god has over me. I’ve experienced her wrath despite doing my best to avoid it. I do my best to not upset memories. I avoid places I know will bring them back. I avoid the bed. This fight is getting wearisome. (Please do not leave comments about religious practices as the above merely uses religion as an example. It is not a plea for Scripture.)
I’d like to pick up a paint brush again. I’d like to have my health back. I’d like to not have my skin bruised with signs of Lupus or my eyes dimmed because of Lupus, my bones eaten and my organs eaten by Lupus. Lupus is ugly and most days anymore I feel ugly. I look at my skin and think, my goodness, is this me?
I’m getting sick of being broke all the time. That keeps me up at night too. The newest financial struggle is with the food stamp office who decided to lower my stamps from $51 a month to $14 a month because I should be able to pay what I pay in rent then manage the remaining $185. The thought of having $14 this coming October to add to food costs angers me beyond belief. It’ll be even more imperative that Barney not eat my food come October.
I’m getting a bit annoyed that he’s willing to go on 2 hikes a day three times a week but he’s not willing to mow the lawn. Today he said it’s just about the end of the year which means he shouldn’t have to mow the lawn until early spring. He doesn’t mow the lawn during the fall. He lets the leaves fall from 8 huge trees in the yard and doesn’t even attempt to pick them up. Rain beats the leaves down into a nice breeding ground for mold and bug life. The sun heats it up, the rain beats it back down, over and over until the weather changes and the snow degrades the leaves into mold and bug infested “mulch”. Today he said he doesn’t plan to mow the yard until spring. He was serious. I was dead serious when I told him I’d take part of my rent money to have the yard mowed. What kind of lazy crap is that?
I think I might be crazy. I think half the stuff in my head if ever put on paper would get me labeled as crazy. If my behaviors were ever witnessed by anyone I fear it would get me committed or force me to openly accept that I’m crazy. I feel like I’ve lost my mind. Most nights I feel like I lost it several nights before.
I think about suicide as a way out more often than not. I didn’t sign up for this war. I want out.
Most mothers say they’d wait for their kids to grow up before every killing themselves. I figure when Captain passes I’ve got no real reason to stay here. He turns 8 years old October 1st. Goodness, that was the first smile of this whole entry. He’s such a good boy. One mention of Captain even slightly gets a smile.
I cry most days when before it was hard to get a tear out of me. I’m getting tired of everyday struggles and having nothing. It’s getting to me, very much it’s getting to me.
My anxiety level reached a peek two days ago when I realized I’ll see a new therapist Monday afternoon. I’m just spinning my wheels I think. Nothing’s going to change. My life is reduced to surviving and that truly angers me.
Joan of Arc for Morton’s Pride
National Pity Party Day
Thursday, September 27, 2007-5:45PM EST
I’m really not in the mood for a pity me. I feel funny and slightly embarrassed about all this and as usual, when put on the spot, I can’t come up with a darn thing! When someone approaches me directly to speak about myself, I become withdrawn and timid, almost afraid that I might reveal something that makes me vunerable.
So pity me for hiding behind an emotional wall, so that no one else sees. I try to hide a sense of awareness that seems more keen than for some. I try to hide emotions and feelings that most people always appear to think are weird when they see it. I try to keep the deepest part of me hid from everyone, or most everyone. Pity me for the struggle that I fight every day between what is really me and the me that I’ve learned everyone else expects.
Pity me for the trust that I don’t feel for those whom I should trust, family and husband. They are always asking me why I have to be so weird. And this is why this does not appear on my blog.
Julie,
I know there’s a you that doesn’t show on your blog. I know there’s a sadness that is deep like the roots in your well manicured rose gardens. I know you stand tall when you’d rather sit down and I know that sometimes it feels safer to hide than to let light shine on you. I know that.
Your friend,
Austin
Julie,
I’m pretty weird, too.
Austin,
I hear you.
Hi Austin,
Been awhile since I stopped by to say hello, and I’m enjoying looking at your art and am glad you have the Etsy store. I hope you’re selling stuff. And then , there is the way I am so moved by your situation and the way, regardless of this post and all that is contained within it, and implied within it too, you are still here! I’m glad about that. You may not know how you help other people carry on too. I wonder if you know that.
Life’s tragedies to me are like broken bones; they may heal but you can always see the break line, and then as time passes, arthritis sets in and it hurts when the weather changes! Ha! I really sometimes think we’re supposed to carry stuff around so we can remind the world about getting it’s shit together. Anyway, just saying hello. I’ll pray for sleep for you.