How many times do you go to write a post, give it a title, start writing it, think of a better, more accurate title, delete what you’ve written, and start over? Usually it happens when I start writing with a filter. And it feels so fucking fake, I can’t stand it. And want to be more honest and raw.
Never? Is that just a me issue? Well, anyway. Here we go.
The past 2 nights have been absolutely horrible. Truly, horrifically bad.
And I haven’t been dealing with it well.
Last night, for example, ended with me drinking probably at least twice as much as I should’ve (in addition to mixing it with shit, and no I still haven’t been completely honest with everything yet. Please remind me to do that. Or not, that’s cool too), in response to being upset with my husband for the second night in a row, and me choosing to sleep on the bathroom floor because “he doesn’t love me and he doesn’t give a shit and I’m alone and obviously I don’t deserve love or respect or a bed”.
I know, logic, right?
Like I said, it’s been a rough few nights.
Tonight is hard. I’m still dealing with an insanely bad flare up, and my body LITERALLY hates me. My hands are swollen to twice their normal size, typing this post is actually excruciating (but the show must go on), and the pain has refused to let up for days now.
My head is completely fucked. Today, I took my kids to therapy an hour early. We got there at 12 instead of 1. We’ve had, more or less, the same therapy schedule for years now. And yes, the arrival time varies day by day (Monday is at 2, Tuesday is at 12, Wednesday is at 12 and Thursday is at 1). But today I got it wrong, and we showed up at 12.
It was fine, we just walked around Lowe’s for a little while, and my 4 year old was in heaven. (He loves any store with Halloween decorations, and has been begging me to take him there.)
I’ve been feeling all the feelings lately.
Upset about fighting with my husband. Physically unable to cope with the pain anymore, and just exhausted. Mentally, emotionally…exhausted.
I don’t feel respected. I don’t feel supported. And I feel alone. Really, really fucking alone. Talking to my husband about how I’m feeling has turned into fights the past 2 nights. I’m trying not to burden my best friend with my shit, therapy has been weird with my parents coming over the course of these past few weeks…
I did have a really good conversation with someone the night before last night, and honestly, that helped a lot. It kept me from making some really bad choices. And I’m grateful for that.
But I’m finding myself feeling feelings.
Randomly fighting back tears. A lot. Frequently.
Complete apathy, except not. Because I’m VERY easily hurt right now. My dad was an asshole to me earlier (as is typical) and it like, ruined my night.
My threshold for bullshit is zero.
My threshold for being clearly and blatantly disrespected, is zero.
I’m sick of the shit. I’m sick of all of it.
Sometimes, I stand up for myself.
And DEMAND that I deserve better. That I deserve respect. And communication.
And usually when I do that, when I voice my feelings, I get shit on. And put back in my place. Not by my husband, he does his best…sort of. But by the universe.
The universe likes to singly handled wrap up little presents of “fuck yous”, and hand deliver them to me like a grenade exploding in my face.
This is a lot of words to say that I’m struggling.
I’m feeling so many feelings.
And I fucking hate it.