It’s 1 in the morning. To be honest, I wanted to go to sleep hours ago. That’s what the physical side conveyed.
But the rest spoke something different.
It’s 1a.m. and we’re just now beginning the difficult conversations.
Life, death, babies, houses….
All of the fortunate and unfortunate possibilities of our very near futures.
Big questions have no answers.
The future has no promise.
Do I want to give up this freedom?
The freedom of my own body, once again?
Which is more selfish? To have a baby with questionable at best genetics? Or to deprive our entire family the chance of growth?
Is it selfish of me to take alcohol into the equation? Sobriety for …..over a fucking year????! I’ve done it. 3 times now. Each time the relapse seems harder. The longer I abstain…the harder I fall.
Or maybe that’s just life, a reminder of the brutality that it is.
It’s 1a.m. And I don’t want to sleep.
I want to drink. I want to think. I want to talk about the heaviest shit that matters the most.
But he is tired.
I wish these conversations were welcomed…and they are. But not when I’m sober, and not when he’s tired.
I’ve never strictly smiled at the sight of 2 pink lines. At the positive sight of a pregnancy test. It’s always been muddled.
I want the next time…if there is a next time…to be nothing less than pure elation and glee.
Then I’ve had to have my last drink.
And how can my demons not get the best of me then?
These conversations have no counterpart. I’m left to my own devices.
It’s 1a.m. …and I feel so alone. I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders.
I want to drink more. I’m sure I will. Sleep doesn’t seem possible for me. Not with the nightmares being as explicit and R-rated as they have been.
And also…let me send a huge FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!!!!!! For him even being a consideration in this.
This is absolutely no knock to ANY parent out there…but I’ve never given my kids formula. I’ve breastfed both of them for as long as possible. My 5 year old was 18 months, and I stopped when I got pregnant.
My now 3 year old was just shy of 2 before I stopped with him. And honestly, I only did because I was becoming SO fucking overwhelmed with flashbacks and fear from the situation that was occurring.
Honestly, things are worse now.
I’ve been retraumatized 10 fold. And I’m even more so sensitive to physical touch than I ever have been.
I can’t see how I could ever do that to myself…
Fuck. It’s fucking hard.
Fuck him. No one can touch me without my brain remembering him. And I fucking hate him for it.
It’s 1a.m. …and I feel alone. I have so much to say, so much to feel.
I’m not stupid. I won’t make the wrong choice.
But right now, I’m alone in my bathroom, where the worst of it took place.
The memories are more than just a memory. At any moment, it’s a possibility. Don’t forget, he’s not just gone.
I want to see the positive. I want to try.
But it scares me too much. I’m too afraid. Of everything.
It’s 1a.m. And fear is controlling me in more than just one way.
Maybe I just quit. Maybe I give up.
This is when I wish I had someone the most.
This is when I question life the most.
I want out.
I simply can’t have in….so I just want out.
Or at least……..I wish I had someone right now. Or maybe just, someone ever. To talk about this with. The things that seem IMPOSSIBLE to speak of sober.
The pain that feels the deepest. It’s all fucking connected, isn’t it? Genetic disorders, rape, alcohol, fear, loneliness…..
Really it’s all one thing.
It’s all a big deal. And it’s fucking terrifying.
I desperately want something that I’m being offered.
But that doesn’t mean it’s safe. And I won’t do this unless I feel absolutely safe about it. Or at least…..
Slightly less alone.
It’s 1a.m. And I want to give up. I feel broken. But it doesn’t matter how I feel.
I’m a minion to the chaos. I’m alone in the world of people needing others.
I give so that others can take.
I’m nothing. I’m no one.
I don’t have any answers.
I just wish I had a person.
It’s 1a.m. …and everyone I know is asleep.
I needed them hours ago. I reached for them, I tried. But I am no one’s problem.
I am on my own.
That’s just the way it is.
Maybe if I were worth it, I wouldn’t be here now.
I feel like shit…but that’s just the price I pay.
I can’t have a baby because my pain is too much. Because I can’t stand the fucking though of breastfeeding…of having literally anything touch me. Despite the fact that I’ve successfully done so for nearly 3 years.
I can’t have a baby because I can’t talk about it. Because he fucked me up so much that it doesn’t seem possible.
Because my genetic disposition terrifies me.
Because I’m afraid of the reaction from others.
All I want is what I can’t have.
And damn, if that isn’t that the most familiar thing I’ve ever felt.
No one knows my thoughts, no one knows my fears, no one knows my nightmares.
It’s 1a.m. …and I’m so fucking alone.