Category Archives: Life

It’s That Bad

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So I really can’t lie, I have to come out and admit this to someone, so why not here? I’ve been in the same clothes/pajama’s since last Tuesday. If I don’t do something about it today, that’ll be a week tomorrow, same clothes (if you’re thinking omg same undies for a week, commando folks, lol), no shower, no hair brushing, and a lot of sleeping. I can’t say I’ve really eaten anything substantial either… cereal a few times, pizza once I think. (Although I often go a whole day or two without eating, bad I know.) I’m taking my meds consistently at night, but the mornings are still inconsistent, (although I have been better about mornings lately). When it comes to the boys I do as minimal as I can get away with. I will admit that their dad gets stuck with the majority of taking care of them. I have no energy and no motivation. I spend too much time on the computer doing nothing important. I wear my robe all day long for Pete’s sake…. And I just don’t even care.

My husband is an asshole and he’ll never change. He has a nasty temper and just really isn’t nice. I can’t leave for more reasons than I care to talk about right now. I’m starving right now but won’t eat anything because nothing sounds good. Sean’s actually standing next to me bitching right now about unopened mail and other bullshit. I am tired….. all the time. My mind just wants to shut down and sleep, or my body, maybe both, either way, I sleep more than a lot of the time. I want to change so bad, yet I just continue to remain the same, because I just must not be trying hard enough or want it bad enough, or something. Otherwise I’d have made more progress by now. In eight years I went from being a severe opiate addict to sober, I have several different chronic health issues as well, plus all the mental health crap. I’ve come a little ways in eight years, but not very damn far. In my husband’s eyes I’m worse than when I was on drugs, smh.

Now I’ve pretty much lost my best friend and the love of my life, D, and I feel like I’m dying inside over that. All I really want is to be happy, but it seems to unattainable. Someone close to me recently said it’s almost like I say I wanna be better but really I don’t. But that’s not true…. I don’t want to feel this way and live this way for the rest of my life. My life is passing right before my eyes and I’m just watching it go. I managed to stomach a bowl of cereal a little bit ago as I wrote some of this, and I’m working on getting some dry mac n cheese down now. My intentions are to at least wash my hair and take a “sink bath”, it may sound pathetic, but right now, it’s a big step. I didn’t even feel this bad when I went to the psychiatric hospital like two months ago. I don’t know anymore, I see my primary care physician tomorrow, my psychiatrist Thurs. and my therapist Fri., but really there’s nothing they can do. I’ve been on a million meds. I’m gonna do a little more ECT research and talk to my mental health guys about it at the end of the week. Let’s cross our fingers and pray I can at least bathe tonight, smh. I feel like I’m giving up. 

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The Day My Mom Died

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It’s true what they say, you never know when it’s going to be the last time you see someone, the last day that you ever spend with them. It was a Monday night, April the twelfth of 2014, my mom and I had just moved back up north from Flint that past August of 2003, so that my mom could be with her husband who’d just gotten out of prison. I wasn’t exactly happy about this move, as it would be taking me out of Flint, out of the city, and my crack supply would literally disappear over night. I was just barely eighteen, I could have said no, but I knew my mom wouldn’t let that happen. So I ended up giving into her and her husband and following them up north with our stuff loaded down in a truck, a u haul trailer and my car. We got high on rocks the whole way up there, each in our own separate vehicles. See, my mom had been a drug addict earlier in my life, then an alcoholic and then she quit everything completely when I was around ten or eleven. When I was sixteen though, she relapsed with coke/crack. I was dating a guy who sold it and he lived in the apartment with us and eventually my mom just said screw it I think. By that time she only had one lung, she’d had one half at a time removed, two surgeries,  on the right side I believe, due to lung cancer. Then we moved to Flint and it got even worse for both of us, so that’s when she decided to move us back up north. again. She knew we had to I think, for my sake if any. 

As reluctant as I was to move back up north with my mom and step dad, step family, I knew that without my mom I would die on the streets of Flint before nineteen. So I went and at first things were really bad for me, I went through some sort of psychological withdrawal from crack/cocaine. It was intense and nuts and nothing I’d ever want to experience again. Stupid ol’ me though, I had friends in the next town up, a town a little bigger than the one we were living in, and they could get crack and coke. Of course it wasn’t the same grade as the stuff in Flint, it was cut like crazy and half the time wouldn’t even cook up, but my mom and I bought it none – the – less. 😦 How sick we were, how terribly sick mentally and physically we were. To still be seeking this out, this crap that we had left one city for to come back home to get away, and it followed us, we still managed to find it. Thankfully it wasn’t as easy to get up north and it cost way more and like I said the quality was poor, so that discouraged my mom from wanting to buy it, because she couldn’t turn it into rock form. So this went on on and off from the time we moved up there in August 2003, to the night of April 12th 2004. 

I knew what I was doing was wrong, enabling my mother to get crack, when I knew she only had one lung, and I knew she was supposed to be on oxygen most of the time, I knew that crack could kill her in an instant. But she was my mom, and when she begged me to do it for her, I felt this sick guiltiness, and I was so torn. Do I do this for her, or don’t I? Too often I found myself doing as she’d asked me to, and then I’d end up staying with her and getting high!! Who in the HELL DOES THAT???!!! With their own MOTHER! But I did, we did. And I dare someone to say she didn’t love me, because that woman went through hell for me, trying to make sure I had what I needed and wanted. She was a good mom, she tried her hardest with me, but I didn’t listen and I did what I wanted and that’s’ one of the things I regret. I should’ve respected what she did and didn’t want me to do, because it wasn’t much. There’s no sense in dwelling on what I should’ve done to be a better daughter though I guess, although I do. 

I had been out all day the day of the twelfth, or most of it anyway. Running around to see who had dope. Somewhere around evening time, early night time, I arrived back home with my a guy, the dealer. I knew my mom would want some, so I decided to help her out since she asked me to. She gave him the cash she had on her and we stayed a little while, but when she was done smoking it, she wanted me to go up the the ATM and get more cash for her, and I just couldn’t do it. Even though we did drugs together, I still cared about my mom, her health, smoking crack and cigarettes with only one lung, I cared about her financial situation as she was a set income each month. So I wasn’t gonna let her get money that she didn’t have for this shit, out of her ATM. She tried saying she’d just go but my buddy said nope he couldn’t sell her anymore. She got mad, very mad for a little while….. but then she calmed down and she hugged me and told me thank you. I just looked at her and said, “I love you mom, but you’d had enough.” I ended up giving her enough for maybe a hit or two before we left and she seemed content with that. Before I left for the night, I apologized to her again, and she said sorry to me once more as well. We said, “Good night, I love you”, gave each other kisses, and she told me to be safe as I backed out of the driveway. I waved to her and honked as I pulled away, I could see her standing in the window of the door. 

That night I ended up partying for a awhile and then ending up at a hotel room with the guy who not only sold dope but smoked it. We partied together in his room, just him and I and late that night/early that morning, we fell asleep. When it was time to be out of the hotel room, I dropped him off somewhere and began driving home. I was tired and I wanted to go lay down some more in my bed. When I got home I should’ve known immediately that something was wrong. My mom’s truck was still in the driveway, and there were a few other vehicles I didn’t know in the yard. Plus my step grandparents who lived next door, were gone. It should’ve seemed odd that there’s was the only car gone. When I walked into the trailer, my mom and her husbands bedroom was directly in sight of the front door. I looked in there and didn’t see anyone, but oddly, what I did see was all the bedding tore off their bad. Now several times my step dad had wet the bed due to being too messed up to get up and go, so I though maybe it was one of those nights. I called out around the trailer, no one answered, I check for people, but no one was there. So I decided I was going to lay down in my room til everyone got home, although I just couldn’t figure out where they all were, who’s cars were in my driveway – my stepbrother’s friends maybe? And why was my moms truck parked out front. Initially I thought maybe her and her husband went somewhere with her in-laws next door. Anyway, I had laid down and I was just starting to drift off to sleep when I thought I heard knocking at the door, I wasn’t going to answer it, but then it stopped and for some reason, something made me get up and run out there. It was my aunt Eve.  

It was unusual to see her at our home at that time of day especially, since she normally would be working. I didn’t have my glasses on so I couldn’t see that she was in her work uniform, she had been getting in her car when I finally opened the door and yelled, so I went to my room to get my glasses so I could see. When I came out my aunt had made it inside and I could see she was dressed in work clothes. She told me that I needed to get ready so we could go to the hospital, which was about 35 – 40 minutes from where we lived; and that my mom had been taken by ambulance that morning and we needed to get up there. Because no one could find me or get a hold of me, I had no idea, and I’d had people looking for me and trying to find me all morning…. but I was asleep, in a hotel room, after spending the night getting high on crack. My aunt had left work and driven down to our home in a last desperate attempt that maybe I was home but just not answering the phone, or something like that maybe, but either way, she drove 40 miles down to our place to see if I was there because she knew I needed to be found. She didn’t say whether or not she knew if my mom was alive or dead or what condition she was in other than that they found her without a pulse…. those were here exact words, “your mom was taken by ambulance this morning, and when they found her, she had no pulse”….. that left room for thoughts that they could have restarted her heart, that maybe they did CPR and she started breathing again, I was hoping for all kinds of things. After a brief call to the hospital to be sure how to get there around the road construction that was being done up there at the time, we were on our way. It’s a long, wooded stretch of land between the town I was living in and the city that the hospital was in, and my aunt and I barely spoke the entire way, me in the passenger seat thinking this was the longest ride in my life and praying fervently to God that he please let my mom still be alive, please don’t let her be dead God, please don’t take her from me, that He couldn’t possibly let that happen. 

Finally we arrived to the emergency department of the city hospital, parked and got out, but as soon as I had gotten out, before I’d even shut my door I think, my uncle’s wife, who was standing next to their car with my uncle, started screaming at me, “She’s gone Lily, she’s fucking GONE, your mom’s fuckin gone God dammit!!!” Instantly I fell to my knees and curled up into a little ball, right there on the concrete of the parking lot, I curled up into a tight fetal position and my mind was just gone. Nothing made sense, everything was blurry, I could hear but it all sounded far away, like an echo…. my family picked me up and carried me into the emergency room department in that position. I’m not sure how long I stayed like that, but I do remember being taken into a “family room”, that’s just off the ER waiting room area. My whole family was in there it seemed like, even though it wasn’t, but my step-dad (which I say with a very snotty voice) was there, my aunt Eve’s daughter (my cousin), my uncle and his wife, the one who had screamed at me in the parking lot, and some other people I don’t remember. Although I’m not sure when, eventually I unfurled myself from the fetal position I had curled up into in the parking lot of the emergency room. I think I was in a state of shock because I don’t really remember saying a lot, and although I’m sure I was crying, I don’t clearly remember that either, everything was like a blur, and it seemed to all be moving so fast, too many people in too small of a room, things like that. Two things that do stand out to me are when my uncle grabbed me by the throat and slammed me up against the brick wall and screamed into my face, “You killed her! You finally fucking killed her you little bitch, are you happy!!” A security guard and my family members got him off of me, and made him leave the hospital, but by that time, it was too late, the damage was already done, in that moment I was sure he was right, I was sure it was my fault she was dead.  Sometime before my uncle’s violent outburst toward me, a social worker or grief support counselor for the hospital, or something like that, asked me if I wanted to go back and see my mom’s body. I remember saying no, but for whatever reason, this woman wheeled me into my mom’s cubicle and shut the curtain behind us. I will never forget the way my mother looked, lying there on that hospital bed/gurney, eyes closed, a slight smile on her face, her sheet, lavender and purple gingham with flowers, still wrapped around her, covering her up, she looked as though she were just sleeping. I touched her body, her hands, her face, kissed her forehead and cheek, and then the woman wheeled me back out. I’m still not sure to this day if it was a good thing that that woman took me in there or not. 

So all this had happened, and things were starting to sink in a little more, there were still a bunch of people around. I remember sitting against the cool brick wall with my knees up hugging them, not really sure what was going to happen next. Well, as it turns out, my aunt Eve and a couple other family members decided to have me petitioned into the psychiatric unit there at the hospital, their reason being because I had always said that if something happened to my mom, if she died, I’d kill myself. With the fact that I wasn’t completely off drugs yet and my mental health issues weren’t being addressed at the time, I guess they decided that was the best thing, I don’t really know. I spent three days in the psychiatric unit there at the hospital, I got out the day before her funeral. My step dad had all of my stuff packed and sitting in the garage by the time I got out of the psychiatric hospital. I went to stay with my aunt Eve the day I got out, so I could get clothes for the funeral and what not. I remember being pretty numb, it was all like it wasn’t really happening. I wrote a poem for my mom and read it at her funeral without breaking down into a bawling baby. I remember being very surprised at the number of people in the funeral home for her service. There was no more sitting room, standing only in the back. It amazed me and made me so proud that MY mom had touched this many peoples lives enough for them to attend her funeral service. 

All those days came and went so fast. I ended up homeless for awhile after, but that’s another story. The events of those days, that day, that week, they forever changed who I was and who I’d become later. To me, on that day, I lost not only my mom, but my best friend in the whole world, the one person who always had my back and believed in me even at my worst, the strongest, bravest, kindest and most loving women/person that I’ve ever known. For a long time I blamed myself for her death, if I hadn’t have brought crack home with me that night, maybe if I’d have made sure she got less, whatever way you want to think of it, all those what if’s, they can make a person insane. I’ve finally accepted that it wasn’t my fault that she died, that the Lord has a time and a plan for everyone and it was just her time to go, even if that meant it’d hurt me like hell. It’s been eleven years now this past April 13th, and I still miss her all the time. While I may not think of her constantly like I once did, she’s never far from my thoughts and forever in my heart. It hurts still when I think about what it’d be like if she were still alive today, when I think about her missing out on her grand kids, seeing them be born, watching them grow and playing with them, spoiling them rotten as I have no doubt she would. She couldn’t be there to walk me down the aisle when I got married, or to see us buy our first home, all those things, things that people take for granted far too often. I regret every foul thing I said to my mother and my regrets for what I put her through as a preteen and teen are so deep I could wade in them, but there’s nothing I can do to change any of that now. I know my mom loved me more than life itself. She always made sure I was taken care of despite our situation. She was an all around amazing person. If there’s one thing people can get from reading this, it’s that you should never take your loved ones for granted, or the time that you have with them either. You should try to cherish every moment that you have together, whether it be your mom, dad, sister, brother, spouse, cousin, whomever, be so grateful that you have them there with you at that exact moment, because you never know when you’re going to lose them. Only the Lord knows when our time is up, and it could be at any given moment, I could post this and then fall over dead with a heart attack, I mean seriously. Take your time here seriously, don’t waste it on petty stuff, use it doing truly important and good things, like being with the ones you love the most, because you’ll miss them when they’re gone. 

 

Right Now

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Right now, I am for whatever reason, feeling very lonely, (though I am surrounded by my kids and husband), and very melancholy. There aren’t any real triggers that I can think of that happened today to cause this, nothing other than my ordinary constant thinking. I never have a blank mind, like when I ask someone to “tell me what you’re thinking right now” and they say “nothing”, I just don’t get it. I’m like, how can your mind just be blank, with no thought process consciously happening right now? Like is that even possible? Because for me, I always have something going on in the head of mine, and a lot of times I know, it’s stinkin thinkin as I call it, it is stuff that isn’t very positive, or not positive at all. I tend to dwell on the negative, even when I tell myself that I’m not going to. This is part of the reason I don’t have any friends really, is because every time I’d see or talk to them, all I’d do is bitch and complain, and one day I finally realized this and it all suddenly made sense as to why people didn’t really want to be around me. I tend to be negative. I can also be one of the most positive people I know, usually when it doesn’t have anything to do with myself. 

I hate feeling this way, because really I have no current reason to feel like this, but it happens, more often than I care for. I’m not even really sure I can put my finger on one or two exact things that are upsetting me or causing me to feel this way, it’s just an overall, general feeling that I have, if that makes sense. Sometimes I can get myself out of it, sometimes it stays with me the whole day and sometimes into the next day. My biggest thing I need to work on with this is the type of thoughts I’m having, when I catch myself having a negative thought, I need to try to replace it with a positive one. There are so many things I know I should be making myself do to get better, but I’m not, I don’t. I’m always so tired, physically and mentally. I sleep for a big part of the day and night if I can and when I am awake I feel sluggish and lethargic. I’ve been through med changes, tests, all kinds of things, and having autoimmune diseases doesn’t help. My motivation is just gone. I’m constantly thinking about all the things I should be doing, need to be doing, but not doing them. I get very frustrated because of that. 

I’m lonely in way that a woman wants a man to hold her, kiss her, pay attention to her, be positive with her, make love to her, be kind to her…. all those things and more that I don’t have. It’s been so long that I ache for it, and there’s only one person that I want in this whole world, and he surely isn’t my husband. That weighs on my heart big time all day every day. I know it sounds crazy, but I NEED to see the man I’m in love with and it drives me insane that I can’t. 

I don’t really know where I’m going with this post, so I’m going to end it now. I guess I just felt like maybe if I wrote a little it would help in making me feel a bit better and I guess it kind of did. So hey, there’s a positive, lol. Thanks for listening! 

Happiness Quote

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Happiness

This is a great quote. I need to get this tattooed on my forearm. 😉 Happiness…. it can always be found in something, if only we look for it, and have the light to look. 

Fuck It

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I try and I try and I keep fucking up. So fuck it. Need to end this all. This blog, this life, this everything. Nothing’s worth it. I lose everyone I love. Nothing I do is ever good enough for anyone. I hurt those I love without intending too. I tried to make him proud, tried to take the steps toward getting better and now I’m in trouble. NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THE PAIN. NO ONE. Everything I love, everything good that I touch, turns to shit. Fuck it. This very well may be it folks.

Thank You For The Support

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LilyLandersThanks

I just want to thank everyone for their supportive comments on my last blog post. I am going through a rough time right now, but I plan to have a real blog post done by the end of the weekend. Thank you for your continued support and visits to my blog. I really appreciate it. I have going on 60 followers now and that’s huge to me. Thanks guys. 

I Need Help!!

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My husband and I bought a home on land contract in the beginning of October of last year (2014). It’s a beautiful house and it doesn’t appear to have anything wrong with it, (except for a plumbing/septic issue we had recently), it’s also on 2.3 acres of land and it’s out in the country pretty much. We’re like nine miles from the edge of town. I like the house. It’s the nicest home I’ve ever lived in, (with the exception of a year and a half in my grandpa’s home when I was 17/18). There’s plenty of room for my husband, myself and our two boys. And it’s definitely a huge move up from what we were in before this, a two bedroom basement apartment with one window, underneath a tanning salon on a main highway. It was awful and my depression really took a turn for the worst down there for three years. Then we got the opportunity to get this place, this beautiful home, and we got it.

“What’s the problem?” you’re probably thinking, I know. But the problem is this…. since we moved in in the beginning of October of last year, I have literally only unpacked one of the bathrooms and that is it…. My husband has unpacked some, dishes, towels, etc., but our two car garage is filled from front to back with boxes of our stuff. Our front porch which is enclosed and is like a separate, unheated room, is filled with boxes, and of course, we have some boxes inside the house too. It’s insane…. and wouldn’t you know, none of those boxes are packed in an organized manner. There are very few that have what is in them written on the outside of the box, other than that, it’s a surprise. All of these boxes have to be gone through  and sorted, sorted into trash, stuff we’re keeping, stuff we’re taking to our flea mkt. booth, stuff we’re donating, etc. It’s completely overwhelming. Not only that, the house needs to be deep cleaned already, walls washed down in certain areas, the whole nine yards, and of course there’s your daily stuff like dishes and laundry and whatnot. 

Sadly however, all I want to do is sleep for the most part. When I’m not sleeping I’m either on the computer or I’m doing nothing really, nothing productive anyway. The hardest part besides always being tired is that I seriously have no motivation, no energy. I don’t know anymore…. life is so overwhelming in so many ways and I just get so sick of it all. I feel like a failure as a mom, as a wife, as an adult, as person in general. I can’t even handle “life”, like the regular everyday life things…. everything overwhelms me, or I just don’t want to do anything and I think, “What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I always like this? Where are you God? What am I going to do?” I hate it. I hate being the way I am, and people say, “Well then don’t be that way”, yeah well, that is much easier said than done for most people let me tell you…. It often takes a lot of work to “change” the way you are. I have begun the steps of trying to feel better, but I fear it is going to be a long and often difficult process, but I know it is one I need to follow through with. 

Meanwhile, my home is in boxes. It needs to be cleaned. It’s going to start looking like a bunch of slobs live here pretty soon. I have to do something, but I don’t even know where to start. The though of it all completely overwhelms me. I know I need to just pick a spot and jump in, but it’s easier said than done, especially when you really don’t want to do anything at all. My plan is to force myself to do a little bit everyday, and if I do more on some days, great, and if I do less on some days, that’s okay to, as long as I get something done each day. So we’ll see how it goes. I think I can handle at least one thing each day 😉 It just sucks because this is not how I want things to be. 

Sexual Frustration

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feel so alone right now, like no one will ever understand. I also feel ridiculous for feeling this way over something like sex, but I can’t help it. I feel like it’s going to drive me insane, combined with everything else in my life it’s just becoming too much. See, I am almost thirty years old and my husband is twenty-five years older than me, making him fifty-five this year, and as I’ve mentioned in other blog posts, we have not had actual intercourse in what’s going on three years now I believe, give or take a little. He has severe type one diabetes, as well as neuropathy and gout arthritis and a few other things. He’s on a lot of medications of course too. We have tried all kinds of things, pills, pumps, creams, you name it, and nothing…. he just cannot get an erection. 

There was a time when we were at least still having oral sex and doing the things we could still do, but even that has become rare. A big part of this has to do with the state of our marriage, as we do not get along well at all and are often fighting. To be honest, most of the time I cannot stand him, and the thought of him touching me appalls me. He is a mean and nasty man and most days I wish I would’ve never married him. (I know some of you are saying at this point, “then why don’t you just leave him”, unfortunately, that is not possible, which is a whole other story in itself that I’ll save for another time.) There are days where I try to force myself to have feelings like I used to for him, I pray that God will help me to get those feelings back. For the most part though, most days I have no attraction of any kind to him and I am simply co-existing with him. There are days when he tries to be nice, I can tell, and for those few hours or for that day, I see the man I married. Occasionally we do make love, (if you can call it that), and when we do, I am forcing myself to do so the whole time, as well as thinking of someone else the whole time too. Sad and pathetic, I know. 

I have always been a very sexual person. In my younger years I was extremely promiscuous. I’ve always loved sex, wanting it everyday if I could get it. I love every thing about sex. I started having sex at very young age, too young, and I pretty much never went without for more than month at a time after that. When I married my husband we had a very active sex life all the way up until he started having ED problems. Then it was like I was just cut off abruptly. This was like a shock to the system or the psyche more like for me. Of course I have toys and I know how to take care of myself, but it’s just not the same. Just as only having oral sex with my husband just isn’t the same. It’s not the same as being penetrated by a man. 

I could go out and find some random guy and bang his brains out, of this I have no doubt…. but that isn’t what I want. I get offers from different guys that I’ve known for however long, messaging me on facebook, etc. And as tempting as that sometimes is…. there is only one person that I want to have sex with…. and though it should be my husband, it’s not….. D is the only man that I want, but I can’t have him. (If you’ve read other blog posts you’ll know that D is the man that I love but am not with and can never have.) I have begged him and begged him to please, please come see me, just once, just one time and I swear this would all be better…. but for reasons of his own, he is not able to come. I don’t know if this means that he’ll never be able to come, or if it means that someday he’ll be able to, but he just doesn’t know when so he doesn’t say anything about it, I don’t know….. Whatever the case, this man D, he is the only one that I want and I want him so bad that there are days that I truly feel like I’m going to come completely unglued, go for real live nuts. I ache inside for him to make love to me, my heart hurts so bad. I sometimes wish that someone else would come along and make me feel the way he does, but someone who can actually see me, someone who can come to me. This has been going on for a year and a half with D and I now, and it was bad before him, but now that he’s in my life and I’ve fallen so deeply in love with him, it just makes it even worse. 

I actually started going back to therapy over this and some other things recently. That’s how bad this is, how serious. I already have a deep underlying depression that I’m working on fixing, and now I have this to add to the depression and let me tell you, most days I think a lot about dying. No, I’m not suicidal, not in the manner that I’m going to do something to myself, however I do not care whether I live or die, in fact, I pray for death most days. It isn’t just not having sex that makes me feel that way of course, there are a whole bunch of reasons combined together that make me feel that way, the not being able to have sex is just like the icing on the cake…. it’s like what makes the cookie crumble…. and this cookie feels like she’s crumbling most of the time. I am on depression meds, I’ve been taking them right, as well as my mood stabilizers. I’m back in therapy. I pray all the time, I read His word. I don’t know what else to do. I know this may sound ridiculous to some, but I just want to have sex!!!!!! At this point, I’m almost starting to not care who with, but then I regain my composure. 

I don’t know anymore…. I’m not in love with my husband, he can’t have sex with me either way….. I’m in love with a man I shouldn’t be, a man who’s married himself and lives fifteen hours away…. I want sex so bad I can’t stand myself…. I’m depressed all the time…. I feel hopeless most days…… as always, I’m a mess. 

A Little Overwhelmed

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As I sit here trying to work on the DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) workbook that my counselor just gave me, I find myself overcome with some strong emotions and for no apparent reason that I can really see, at least, nothing that’s out of the ordinary. It’s starting to bother me, the way I’m feeling. This isn’t the first time this has happened of course, it happens quite often actually, but for some reason, today it’s bothering me a little more and I guess I felt compelled to write. I think I find something therapeutic in writing about my feelings, my life, privately or publicly, (although I must say 😉 I do like this publicly thing). 

I recently started seeing my therapist again and am scheduled to see my psychiatrist for the first time since October. My therapist is deeply concerned about what he called “a deep underlying depression” that I’ve been in for awhile. He actually expressed that normally he would suggest that I be hospitalized, but because of an incident that I had in October with the head doctor (the only doctor) of the psychiatric ward in our hospital, in which said head doc/psychiatrist made me leave, my therapist was not recommending that I go. Instead I’m going to see my psychiatrist soon and continuing my therapy sessions with him, as well as doing my best to work DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) alone, since there are no groups in our area or any nearby areas. It is possible to do DBT solo with the aid of a therapist/counselor, it’s just a little harder because you don’t really have anyone to help you be accountable, things like that. 

So today I’m sitting here, trying to work on this workbook, my husband is lying down, my kids have the day off of school for the second day in a row due to the weather/temperature and are being totally crazy and not listening, I’m really missing D and am wishing he would get a hold of me since it’s his day off, and I’m waiting for someone to stop by too (have I mentioned I have no patience?) Suddenly I start feeling really sad and irritable, where my attitude just becomes totally negative and I get that stinkin’ thinkin’ going on, where the negative thoughts just start rolling in, over and over again. I hate feeling like this, but I’m starting to recognize when it’s happening sooner and more often as time goes on. It’s doing something to stop it or make it less intense that I need to work on. It just really hit me today for some reason. I know I’ll be alright eventually, but for right now, it sucks. There’s just so much, so much in life that I should be doing, so much that’s messed up, so much that hurts, so much that seems unfair, but then I feel like I’m whining…. and maybe I am, but it’s how I feel. 

In a perfect world, lol, I would be sitting here working on something else productive because I’d be mental illness free, but hey, it is what it is, right? Now my job is to deal with it. Also in a perfect world my kids would be listening to me, lol again, I would be married to D so I wouldn’t have to be missing him, and he’d be up helping me with the kids. Ha ha ha…. now THAT’S a dream, lol. It’s okay though, because I imagine that if that’s the way it was supposed to be, it’d be that way, and it’s not, so it must not have been right for my life for one reason or another…. then again, who knows, I could have no idea what I’m talking about. 

When You’ve Overstayed Your Welcome

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I sit here in my living room watching Blue Bloods and am getting ready to watch the episode of Empire that I missed…. but this is the first time in a week that I’ve had my living room to myself, especially in the evening. My husband’s middle nephew, who is twenty-one going on twenty-two, has been staying with us lately. Originally my husband and I talked and I said he could stay a few days…. it’s going on at least three weeks now that he’s been here more days/nights than not. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike him, he’s not a bad guy… but he’s not headed in the right direction either. He’s awaiting court right now for some stupid stuff, and he’s been in and out of trouble since he was young. His mom is something else and has raised all her kids the same way… it’s sad. I like to try to help people, but I can’t get them all the way there, they have to do a lot of it themselves, it’s that way for anybody. We’ve talked to him over and over about the decisions he was making in his life and why he didn’t want to go down that road…. but when we’re young, we often don’t listen…. hell, even when we’re old we often don’t listen. I’ve agreed to help him fill some paperwork out for state assistance with medical and food and use my computer to fill out some applications online, but he just cannot keep staying here. I was talking to him last night and I asked him if he had any plans, and he said to me, “Well I’d like to get a job, get my GED and then go to college”, smh…. I said, “No Philip, I mean any plans for what you’re gonna do now, like in the next month or two, how you’re gonna get on your feet, where you’re gonna stay.” He looks at me and serious and clueless as all get out says, “Well I thought I’d stay between nana’s and here until I can find a job and save the money to get a place.” Here I am over to the right, having a stroke. Ummm, nooooo, you will NOT stay here till you get a job, even IF you’re staying with nana sometimes. I didn’t say that to him of course, but we will, Sean and I will have to talk to him. He’s got to know that we just can’t. We have two young boys of our own and there’s really no place but the living room for him. I feel bad doing it, but I can’t help it. Sooner or later you have to learn that there isn’t always going to be someone there to save your ass, and he’s always had someone there to help him out in one way or another, even if it was temporary. He can’t control himself, he ends up screwing up, and hey, I get that, I’m one to talk for sure, I still lose control and screw up, all the time…. but his land him in jail and burning bridges, etc. There comes a time when we have to figure it out for ourselves…. I had to and I know plenty of others who’ve had to. I love him as family and I care about him, but he’s a grown man with two kids, two baby mama’s and it’s time. It’s never to late for anyone to change, but the older you get, the harder it gets, I do believe that, so it’s best he do it now. Plus, it’s just not the same having your home invaded by a foreigner, lol, “the guy on the couch” , the over stayed house guest…. it takes away a certain element of home in my eyes, but maybe that’s just me.