No Defense

I'm completely immobile. Nothing tastes right; nothing feels right; nothing smells right; nothing works right. I can't tell if I'm hungry or if I'm in pain.

It seems like I've been working so hard for so long- since 2011 - on an abusive history I still am unable to grasp as my own. I've done all this work....God...I've done all this work, I've seen things in myself, my behaviors, my coping mechanisms that are broken and self-sabotaging. I've gawked at the realizations, cried, beaten myself up in more ways than I can say; more often and longer than I can say.

And then I get to this point where I feel I can reach out and be honest and I can understand - at least in part - why I react so quickly and dramatically to the thought of losing someone I love. In particular, my kids.

I literally panic.

I will do anything, fight anyone. I won't lose my kids. The reason is because I consider them to be the only family I've ever had.

So now...now that I reach that point where I can (and have) literally reached out to them all and begged their forgiveness and asked them for something a child should never need to be asked - support, encouragement, understanding as I work through all his mess and try to be a better person - they're falling away like flies.

I shake my head. I cry. I am stunned. I don't understand. I beg. I even pray. I wish to God at least SHE would listen but she's become someone I would never raise. She's my daughter but I'm nothing to her. Everyone says "she'll come around." Yeah....but that's not enough for me. I don't care. I'm so tired. I've been there. I probably saved her life and am constantly persecuted for it, though I'd do it again.

It's so simple. So easy to understand, but she won't even listen.

And even worse, takes, yet, another family member away. My new granddaughter. I'm reticent to even use the words "my granddaughter" since I've not been privy to any photos or videos which she's apparently sharing widely and proudly on facebook.





I sit for hours and half-listen to shows or videos about people who've lost loved ones and how they wish they could have them back for just one moment, just to say I love you.

And then I think how cruel it is, that we have these moments, but I'm nothing...not even worth an "I love you."

I hear these stories of people who could have done something to stop the disappearance of someone or the death of someone, but didn't and I shake my head. 

Nobody says a thing. Nobody tells the truth.

Everyone's scared to get involved.

Jesus Christ.

Why even continue doing it?

Only One

I've had about 30 hours of sleep in the last 36 (thank you Nyquil). The few hours I've been up, I've been lost. I took the Nyquil after deciding last night that I was going to commit suicide but then, using a tactic I've used before, told myself I would wait until tomorrow and if I still felt the same, I would do it then. As I lay down, restless, anxious, angry, hurt....I fantasized about ways to do it. I have a lot of pills I can take. I sometimes hoard them...."just in case." But I know from experience, that overdosing doesn't really work and best scenario you end up with smiley shoes on the fourth floor of some cold, God-forsaken hospital for three days until you say the right things to get out. So I thought of other ways, in addition to the pills. I thought of the order in which I would take the pills. I thought of ways to build a "tent" for carbon monoxide poisoning. Perhaps a bag over my head, too. I would close the bedroom door. Trevor would never know. Nobody would find me until I was gone. Maybe I'd use my old, illegal, beat up car and drive somewhere and hide. But then I thought maybe the cops would see me and pull me over. Then I'd really be screwed. I even tried to figure out ways I could smuggle in my meds in case I did get arrested but that wouldn't work either: The meds would need time to kick in, plus they'd find me before I could die. I fantasized about using a big black sharpie to write "DNR" all over my arms and chest and even my forehead. I figured I'd probably have to do it on paper and then trace it since doing it in the mirror could prove difficult.

Every purpose I had to live, is leaving or dying. My fault for putting purposes on people, instead of myself, most would say.

But most wouldn't know I am no purpose. I have no purpose. I know, I know....and I've heard it all. My existence alone, changes the world. Yada...yada...yada...

Appeasement does not work for me.

All the work I've done on myself has been so honest and intentional.

But for naught.

I still have my pills hidden. (I hid them in case my therapist instructed my friend to hide them from me). I still have not gotten them out. I still haven't entirely changed my mind.

I have therapy tomorrow.

I have almost nothing to say.

I am so numb. So, so numb.

Voiceless, wordless, needless.

Nothing. Obviously.