Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Standing Still.
I’m not even sure I know what I’m supposed to feel anymore… My shrink tells me that in the entire history of his practice he has never seen anyone with as many stressors as I have had in the last six months. I’ve had a loss of a family member, loss of a relationship, loss of a home, loss of a job, and of course I have a loss of health…
I’m just not sure just how much I can endure anymore. I am capable of making myself numb, which I believe has been a necessity for my survival… I don’t cry at home anymore although if you make me talk about anything personal I will refuse. I just cant stand to see my parents hurting again and again over the fact that they have a physically and emotionally mangled daughter.
I’m tired of having to explain how I would do things if I were capable of them.
I am a human paperweight… a waste of oxygen. At least diseases like cancer are in most cases terminal, so that at least the dying have an idea of an end… I just have a disease that will not go into remission, will not be cured and is not kind enough to kill me… it just wants to keep me up at night and in chronic pain for years… I get all the suffering without the release… ever.
My passion for years has always been horses. It has been one of the few outlets for my stress or emotional pain… one simple exchange with a doctor today has taken all that away from me… I simply stated that I was a horseback rider and that I hadn’t been on one for a year. He just looked up at me and said, “And you will never be on one again”.
In one sentence, delivered coldly and bluntly I was told that I will never again do the one thing that I have always felt is what I was put on this green earth for… I feel without purpose or hope.
I don’t know how many times one person can hit bottom.
I thought I had hit it back in November, but apparently I was wrong.
And to top it off … I have a psycho ex writing just lovely blogs about me… ya, he stole my car and all my jewelry and apparently I’m the bad one for not carrying a torch for someone I dumped about 7 or eight years ago… with good reason… he was just as crazy then as he appears to be now.
Always nice when someone tells you that they hope you die and that this disease is Karma kicking my butt… I snapped a little and just told him that at least people would actually come to my funeral and remember me when it was over. Not a pretty side of me and I’m disappointed in myself for having sunk so low to communicate on his level… but I have so much anger bottled up these days that when it gets a chance to come out, it comes with a vengeance.
I wish I knew what God wants from me, weather this is an attention getter or just a run of bad luck, I’m not sure. I just keep asking Him to be blunt with me… I need a path in front of me no matter how narrow or rocky, I don’t care, but anything is better than standing still… I guess that sums up all of how I am feeling… my whole life is standing still…
4-4-2009
What I wanted... want.
I discovered a diary a few days ago that I kept when I was in high school. It was a collection of letters that I had written, mainly for the purpose of giving the book to my future husband on our wedding night.
Not everything works out as we plan it to. My first marriage as many of you know was less than what I had planned and I never ended up giving the long forgotten diary to my ex.
The Letters were about what I wanted out of the man I hope to find the ultimate bond with, the one I spend the rest of my life with... the "One" so to speak. I wanted him to be kind, compassionate, devoted, creative, and loving. He was to be a man of God, someone I could look up to and respect and depend on any time of the day or night. I wanted him to be a provider and a protector and have passion for live and everything in it, but most of all I wanted him to have a passion for me, and only me.
I was so nieve back then... but then again most 12-16 year olds are. I still feel nieve about men and relationships.
I have been blessed to be loved by a few men in my life. I miss two of them, several of them I do not... but reading through those letters made me realize just how much I have sacrificed in my search for the perfect man for me. The younger, less mature version of me may have had the idea of my perfect prince charming, but the jaded 28 year old me has for a time "settled" for quite a bit less than a prince.
I want to change that about myself. I want to give myself rules and stick to them. I too often sacrifice what I want out of a guy for the privilidge of simply having one. I do not traditionally do single well. I use the time to hide and in some cases lick my wounds when I've been dumped or go out and live up life (at times a bit too much) when I'm the one on the other side of that coin. I guess I need to find a balance.
Tony broke me in November of last year... I've spent my fair share of time grieving about him, missing him, and trying to be angry at him, but really I cant blame him and dont hate him either. I do still miss him, but I think I'm past that point of being willing to go back there even if I could.
I want to become convicted about what I want in a man, and if he lacks some of those prerequisites then dating or continuing a relationship with him can simply not be an option. I know what makes me happy... and I know also what makes me unhappy in a man. I'm not going to give up. I know that the man for me is out there, he just has not found me yet.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Tony
I'm not sure if I am capable of writing any more. These last seven months are the lost painful I have ever endured on a physical level, but I was kept afloat by Tony. Always at my side Tony, the ever promising to never leave Tony, the promising eternal love Tony. Now he's just the absent Tony, the Tony that made me snap Tony. The liar Tony, the hurtful Tony. The Tony I'm incapable of forgetting Tony, the Tony I can’t even get mad at yet Tony, the I can’t blame him for not wanting me Tony. The Tony I miss, the Tony that’s gone Tony... the Tony that has made me cry for the last 42 days Tony. The Tony that's killing me, Tony.
1-12-09
I was dealing with everything when he was still here, the crohns, the chronic pancreatitis, the diabetes, the Rheumatoid Arthritis, it was all something I could deal with because he was there to hold my hand. For a year and a half I experienced the joy of taking out the man for a test drive. We merged our lives. It took him over five months to completely move in and only one evening to move out completely.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
2009 Bloggs
He was simply quiet that night... that was all. And I had to go and be all female on him asking what was wrong. I'll never forgive myself for the barrage of questions that I unleashed upon him. And I'm reaping the consequences of his answers.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
He left...
He left... oh my god he left... 34 days ago to be exact. I have washed him out of my sheets and still can’t get the scent of him out of my pillows. Thirty-four days and I hurt no less. In fact I hurt more because the more days that pass the more it becomes apparent that he is not coming back.
He said he left to find himself and took my heart and will to live with him in the process.
The more this disease progresses the more I have to fight to live and less I find my life worth living.
My sickness has lost me many material things including my house and car. It has lost me the horse I looked to for comfort, and now it has taken my love, the man I thought I was going to be with forever.
I trusted him. I handed him my fragile heart and knew, not just thought, I knew he was going to take care of it, to respect it.
I didn’t blame him for leaving. I mean who in the world would want to take care of a sick 27 year old girl who you're not even married to? He did for a while. He took care of me. He picked me up from my own puddle of vomit when my legs gave out in my attempt to reach the bathroom. He yelled at my parents and my doctors when he didn't think my hospital caretakers were doing enough to help me.
He carried me both physically and emotionally through my darkest days of pain and despair.
He taught me to lean on him, and I knew that I could.
I deeply and fully trusted him.
And he left.
He took care of me those many months and he killed me when he left.
I have never screamed like that in my life. My sickness and disease invading my body making it attack itself has never caused me as much pain as the simple words that came out of his mouth.
To make things worse I made him repeat it several times because I simply could not make myself register the truth of his meaning.
I fled.... I got into my car and drove, not knowing where, trying to flee those words, as if I was running away as I do in my night terrors, crying, screaming, thinking I am going to evade whatever is chasing me is going to work. It's never fast enough. I always get caught in an invisible quicksand and move seemingly in slow motion... my demons always catch me.
I ended up in a Hardees parking lot, staring blankly into the face of an Indiana state trooper, crying and whispering, "I want to die".
It's not so much that I want to die as much as it's just that I lack any will to live.
I've been fighting this disease for the past seven months with the hopes of getting better and enjoying a life with him. The man long lost to me and then found only to be taken away.
I'm so tired, deeply injured, and aimless.
And he's not coming back.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
He left...
He left... oh my god he left... 34 days ago to be exact. I have washed him out of my sheets and still can’t get the scent of him out of my pillows. Thirty-four days and I hurt no less. In fact I hurt more because the more days that pass the more it becomes apparent that he is not coming back.
He said he left to find himself and took my heart and will to live with him in the process.
The more this disease progresses the more I have to fight to live and less I find my life worth living.
My sickness has lost me many material things including my house and car. It has lost me the horse I looked to for comfort, and now it has taken my love, the man I thought I was going to be with forever.
I trusted him. I handed him my fragile heart and knew, not just thought, I knew he was going to take care of it, to respect it.
I didn’t blame him for leaving. I mean who in the world would want to take care of a sick 27 year old girl who you're not even married to? He did for a while. He took care of me. He picked me up from my own puddle of vomit when my legs gave out in my attempt to reach the bathroom. He yelled at my parents and my doctors when he didn't think my hospital caretakers were doing enough to help me.
He carried me both physically and emotionally through my darkest days of pain and despair.
He taught me to lean on him, and I knew that I could.
I deeply and fully trusted him.
And he left.
He took care of me those many months and he killed me when he left.
I have never screamed like that in my life. My sickness and disease invading my body making it attack itself has never caused me as much pain as the simple words that came out of his mouth.
To make things worse I made him repeat it several times because I simply could not make myself register the truth of his meaning.
I fled.... I got into my car and drove, not knowing where, trying to flee those words, as if I was running away as I do in my night terrors, crying, screaming, thinking I am going to evade whatever is chasing me is going to work. It's never fast enough. I always get caught in an invisible quicksand and move seemingly in slow motion... my demons always catch me.
I ended up in a Hardees parking lot, staring blankly into the face of an Indiana state trooper, crying and whispering, "I want to die".
It's not so much that I want to die as much as it's just that I lack any will to live.
I've been fighting this disease for the past seven months with the hopes of getting better and enjoying a life with him. The man long lost to me and then found only to be taken away.
I'm so tired, deeply injured, and aimless.
And he's not coming back.
