It’s Never going to End!

So if you have been following my blog or even my facebook posts, you will know how hard my life has been since I added people to it. Those people being my boyfriend and his daughter and four months ago, his son.

Before his son came, it was hard. I am the sole financial support for my family. He doesn’t work due to health reason–or excuses–or whatever. He is working (for the last three years) to get on disability. In this time, I have been taking care of all of our needs. He is basically a house bitch. Sad but true.

Also, we have not had an intimate relationship in almost two years. So there’s that. Fucking awesome.

So in my mind, since he doesn’t act like my boyfriend in any way, he is basically my roommate or more accurately, another child.

I decided to finally end the shit show that is my life by kicking him and his children out. He has til the end of this year to find somewhere else to go. This doesn’t sit well with him. He has been taken care of his whole life by someone; mother, girlfriends, prisons, etc. He has no idea how to be an adult, much less a parent. And I am sick of trying to raise all three of them. Him and his kids are damaged and needy and I am not strong enough or tolerant enough to deal with it anymore.

His children are worse than he is. Especially his daughter. She has lived a life of trauma and neglect. His son has as well, but has had a little more stability from their mother than she has.  Because of this, she has some serious behavioral issues. I am almost 100% convinced she is a sociopath. I also think she has Oppositional Defiant Disorder as well as Conduct disorder. After the story I heard recently from her, and the fact that schizophrenia and bipolar disorder both run in her family, I am pretty convinced things are even more serious than that.  Here is what we found out last night: (this is also what I wrote her therapist today as well as some inpatient mental health places)

So last night, Adrianna was on punishment and she was crying and I was exasperated. I asked her to stop crying and just tell me what is going on with her that she just refuses to listen. She completely broke down and told me and her dad the following:  she expressed that she feels like there are two people in her, the devil and an angel. She says she feels like she “lives in a red bubble”. She says she see’s red all the time, no more colors. She says she sometimes she see’s so much red that she cannot remember what the original colors are. She states that she cannot do the right thing because the devil is “too hard and too strong” so its just easier to go along with him. She says the devil likes being in trouble and likes making her do bad things. She says that she cannot stop doing bad things because he is too strong. She says she doesn’t want to do it, but she cannot stop herself. She said the devil makes her have bad dreams all the time. She says she has dreams of killing people and when asked how she feels about those dreams, she says it makes her feel happy to kill them. She says she dreams of getting “the big knife and stabbing them.”  She says the voices (devil and angel) talk to her all the time.

She said one side of her brain is the devil and the other side is the angel.  

When I asked her when she felt those two sides showed up, she says that the devil showed up when her grandmother, whom she lived with most of her life, died three years ago. She says sometimes she can be nice and the angel will come back a little bit, but the devil half of her brain is more strong.  She said she was mostly the angel before her grandma died. She also said that she feels bad because she was so mean to her grandma (yelling at her, running away, locking herself in rooms, etc) and she never got to say sorry to her. She said that her grandma never hit her, but would call her Uncle Gary and he would come over and “beat her” for being mean to her grandma. She also blames him because he was the one who took her grandma to the hospital that she never came back from.

At one point I asked her if Adrianna was in there with the devil and the angel and she said no..that “Adrianna is just mostly the devil now”.  

I also asked her about why her behavior has gotten worse and she said “I’m not trying to blame it on Anthony, but since he got here he gets my attention, though I know he is still new here, but the devil wants that attention back”. I said, do you feel like you could hurt your brother, and she says “yes. I always feel like I could hurt him, even kill him”. She said if she ever gets to that point, she hopes her angel is stronger than her devil because she really doesn’t want to hurt her brother–she just doesn’t know how to stop the devil. She says she tries. She says when she stole money from me the angel didn’t want her to, but she did it anyway because the devil “comes too hard”. She also at two entire packages of cookies the other morning at 530 am before anyone got up because the devil wanted those cookies and she couldn’t stop him from making her eat all the cookies.  (She had asked about them the day before and was told no, FYI)

 We have no knowledge of sexual abuse, but she has been physically abused by her mother and her uncle. She does have one uncle (whom I mentioned above) who she only associates with beatings and blames him for killing her grandma.  

While we were talking, I noticed she was doing something with her hand. I asked her what she was doing and she said she had a cut. I said, why are you messing with it and she said because it feels good. I said do you do that often and she said yes. She said “when I have a cut or a bruise or whatever, she said I mess with it til its bigger because the pain makes me feel better.  She said it makes the red go away a little bit. 

She also told us she wants to go live with her grandma–even though she knows her grandma has passed away. She has mentioned she’d be better off dead and hates herself. She also thinks everyone around her wishes she was dead as well. I told her that we don’t wish she was dead, we just wished she would be good, but she says she doesn’t believe us. 

On a side note, just listening to her conversation, she refers to the devil as “him”, but doesn’t refer to her angel as her or him. I did ask if the angel was her grandma, but she said she didn’t know.
She also says when she does nice things, she gets some “angelness” back a tiny bit. But if she does too many nice things, and her angelness grows, the devil gets mad and makes her do something bad to push the angelness out.  

As the conversation (45 minutes of it) progressed, she started referring to the bad voices as her devilness and the good voices as her angelness.

We need help. We are scared for her and scared she will hurt somebody or herself.  I have reached out to Desert Hills and Bernalillo Academy for help. I think she needs to be in a psychiatric treatment facility. I don’t want anyone hurt. 

I spoke to one of our psychiatrists at work about it today and she also told me that if at any time, we feel Anthony or Adrianna or anyone else in the house is unsafe, we can call 911 and have her taken to UNM Childrens Psych for an evaluation.  I feel like this would cause even more trauma in her life than she has already had–plus she is terrified of police because of her dad and moms life before she came here.  That would be a last resort for us–but I will do it if it comes down to someone’s safety.

I asked her why she hasn’t told you about it and she says she is scared you will send her away. I told her that you are the person that will be able to help her the most, and that she needed to talk to you. She says she will but she doesn’t want to do it without us there–at least one of us. I am going to try to get off work on Wednesday afternoon to join you guys in the session. I think Adrianna would prefer me there rather than her dad. I think he doesn’t understand and kind of tends to make it worse. His reaction to this conversation was “how come you didn’t tell us about this sooner, this is some really sick stuff”.  I told him later how detrimental that could be…….because I know she cannot control those thoughts or feelings.  He also told me that two of his sisters are schizophrenic and one brother is bipolar. 

I feel that while Adrianna has sociopathic tendencies, she also shows signs of Conduct disorder and Oppositional Defiant Disorder.  However, the fact that she is hearing voices in her head telling her to do bad things just makes it more confusing. Regardless of the diagnosis or lack thereof, she needs more help than we can give her. 

I will also tell you that me and her dad are no longer together, and they have to find another place to live by the end of the year. Adrianna is aware of this and I think she is scared of that as well.  Honestly, this is not something I want to deal with anymore, however because of the trust that Adrianna has in me, I also don’t want to let her down like everyone else has. I am the only stability she has ever known in her life and while I would rather just let her father deal with this, I don’t think he is capable.  

So there is a lot going on right now. 

Please let me know what you think and what you think we should do here. 

So yeah……….call me freaked the fuck out.

However, I also can relate to what she is saying. I remember feeling like that when I was young. Maybe not so extreme as seeing red all the time. But I felt like I could never be good or good enough. I used to hurt myself to feel better as well. It makes me really sad for her. I have dealt with mental illness all my life–for years I had no idea what the fuck it was–and it isn’t easy. It is confusing and frustrating and it makes you feel worthless. I still struggle with that. I still struggle with maintaining my sanity and not lashing out and being shitty to people. And I am 47. She is 10. Can you image how scary it must be for her? Ugh.

I have been thinking about it all day. And I have come to the conclusion that I am never going to be rid of this in my life. Choney in no way, shape, or form, can handle this type of thing. He cannot handle her already–and with her being this fucked up, there is no way he will be able to deal with that. In all honesty, I feel like after he gets out on his own, it will just be a matter of time before he ends up getting back into drugs and losing these kids to the state.

I am the only stability that child has ever known. She is angry at me right now, but I am the only one she trusts to do what I say I am going to do. I have never said something and not followed through with her. Before she came to my house, her dad would tell her he was running to the store and would be back in a little while—-and then not come back for days or weeks or months in some cases. Her mom was the same. So she learned not to trust them at all. Even three years later, after her dad has shown her that he will come back, she panics a little when he leaves.  Not the case with me.

Because of this, I feel like if I abandon her and them completely, it will just prove to her, in her mind, that nobody loves her and everyone leaves her. And she has been through enough trauma in her life. And me turning her out of my life will just make it worse.

On the selfish side, I am sick of dealing with it and her and them and its not my responsibility to fix these people. I didn’t do the damage and I am sick of worrying about it all the damn time. I am sick of feeling guilty because I cannot take care of them. However, to counteract that thought—ain’t nobody worrying about me in the situation. So I have actually let go of the guilt, but I still worry how much damage I am going to do to those kids by stepping out of the picture.

So I feel like I am stuck. Once a-fucking-gain.  KMN.  But I am not sure I am willing to leave her father to deal with this. I feel like that would almost be worse.

I need to find a happy medium here.

Your thoughts and suggestions are more than welcome.

 

Advertisements

Reminders

Today at work, I saw my old counselor. Seeing her brought up so much in me, I figured I would just vomit it onto my blog.

My very first feeling when seeing her was extreme, from the deepest recesses of my heart, gratitude. There are not enough words to thank this woman for hearing and seeing the very worst parts of me and not judging a single one of them. I cannot explain how it feels to have someone know all of the worst of you and still look forward to seeing you. Yes, I am aware this is her job, but today, she was genuinely thrilled to see me and you could see it in her face.

I actually used to cringe at the thought that I would run into her in public–for the fact that she does know my deepest, darkest thoughts and feelings. How fucking embarrassing. But it was so far from my expectations.

My second thought on seeing her was joy. She went through so much with me. She gave me the tools I have and use today on a daily, sometimes hourly basis. She was essentially my everything in those hours that I spent with her. We cried, we laughed, we got angry and we talked. And talked. And talked. And it helped.

I also felt longing. Longing for that relationship again. That sounds really stupid when I write it because I am the one who essentially terminated my counseling since I had come so far and done so much and made such progress, but I miss having a non-judgmental entity to vomit my bullshit on. Yeah, I have friends, but its not the same. They listen but they want to help me solve it. I don’t always want to solve it—sometimes I just need someone to listen to me vent.  I have one friend who is good for that and thank God for him, but sometimes I feel I just put too much on him. So I hold back. I never held back from my counselor.

That’s probably why it helped so much.

Even on my blogs, I know it seems like I put everything out there………but I don’t. For all the blogs you see, there are five more that are not available to the outside world. They are my deepest, darkest, most intimate thoughts, fears, loves, hates, feelings, etc. Those are things people will never see.

Its been 5 months since I graduated from counseling, and it feels like its been years.

My point to this is that seeing her brought up a lot of feelings in me–most of them good. Some of them not so great. Regardless, it made me remember all the progress I have made, both with her and without her.

So for now, in this moment, life is good.

Too Much?

So when I blog, I start feeling and thinking, probably too much. As I do in all my life, I am “too much”. Everything is always “too much.” I feel “too much.” I’m too emotional.  I’m too loud. I’m too moody. I’m too distant. I’m too insecure. I’m too arrogant.  I’m too angry. I’m too quiet. I’m too withdrawn. I’m too obsessed with things,  etcetera, etcetera. I get too passionate over silly stuff, like hello kitty or fishing or whatever it is I am currently obsessed with.

Or, on the flip side, I am not enough of something. I don’t care enough. I don’t talk enough. I don’t validate enough. I don’t appreciate enough.  I don’t listen enough. And on and on…

It’s all black and white in my world. I have always been the “all or nothing” type of person. I can’t do halfway. I either do it or I don’t. Period.

And I don’t know how to feel less or more. It is just what it is. I am either too much or not enough.  Welcome to my nightmare.

A lot of people view being borderline as some kind of shameful disease, and are embarrassed by it, ashamed.  I don’t. I used to, but once I embraced who I am and learned tools to deal with life better (not that they work all the time) I am accepting of my disorder and I am absolutely not ashamed of admitting it is part of me.

It’s not easy to live with. The fact is that tiny emotions rip my heart out sometimes, and sometimes I cannot allow myself to feel anything because the consequences of that terrify me.

There is a good side to this stupid disorder. I love that I feel “too much” of the good emotions, even if there is a bit of a trade off in regards to the “bad stuff.” I’m so passionate, and I’m not sure I’d change that for the world. When I love someone or something, I love it with all I am, with my whole heart and soul. On the other side of that, when I don’t like someone, that is super hard for me to change. For this reason, I don’t keep people I don’t love wholeheartedly in my life.  The exception to this is my dad and stepmom. I love them beyond words and feelings, but they trigger my emotional instability pretty hard. Loving them like I do brings too much emotion and I am not equipped to deal with that. There is actually a thing in BPD that makes things way, way too much. Way over my normal too much.  I wish it was different because I can’t explain how much I miss them.

I switched my meds a few months ago and for the first time in years, I can say I feel normal(ish) and actually mean it. By this I mean I can regulate and control my emotions pretty well—I can stop and choose how to react instead of just reacting. Though that may be a combination of my meds and the tools I learned in counseling. Either way it works for me right now.

Being borderline doesn’t define me, and it doesn’t deserve the stigma that is attached to it. I am a human being, and it is hard to explain my behavior and how much of it is my disorder. They will never know what it’s like to feel as much as I do.  And sometimes even I cannot distinguish between a real feeling and a dramatic BPD reaction.

This is why I write. It allows me to figure out if what I am feeling is my truth or my BPD re-activeness.  I wouldn’t be functional without being able to write.

I saw some comments on a BPD support group today and seeing people write how they were thinking they had BPD because of how badly they treated people in their lives. Is that what people think of us with it? That we are just shitty people who treat others with no respect because of our disorder? I guess so. Too bad they don’t understand that when we do those things (not purposely), the guilt that follows is intense and all-consuming—and with me, puts me in a cycle of guilt, shame and self-loathing that is really hard to get out of.  Especially since I hate, hate, hate apologizing for being shitty. It makes me feel stupid and embarrassed and I just try to avoid it completely.

Sometimes people are just assholes and you don’t need any type of mental health diagnosis to be a dick.  Stuff like that just pisses me off. Don’t use a mental health disorder to justify your shitty behavior. This is why there is a stigma.

Regardless, I am human and with that comes flaws. Unfortunately, BPD makes those flaws enormous. UGH.

Stuck between the Truth and my BPD

So last night I was talking to my friend and she was telling me how hard being a stepparent is. I totally agree with this. It think it is incredibly challenging and so much worse than being a biological parent. I don’t know if this is because the child is not yours and you have certain limitations or you don’t want to cross the other parents’ boundaries or what, but it is really, really, really hard.

That said, I would really like to give a huge shout-out to my stepmom, Roberta, who has always been amazing and acted like being a stepmom was easy. I know it wasn’t. We were hard kids, especially me. I still am, so I cannot express how much I appreciate her loving me anyway.

Anyway–back to my point.

Everyone always tells me how great I am for taking on these two kids that have so many issues and I have such a big heart and blah, blah, blah……….BUT, what they don’t know is that I fucking hate it. Mostly.

I am 47. I don’t want to raise more kids. I have been there and done that and I am supposed to be done with this shit. Its supposed to be grand-kid time.

And all these people saying how amazing I am for taking this on? Thank you but it doesn’t fucking make my life better or easier for being this amazing person.

So as I was having this conversation, I told her that yeah I’m all this and that, but in the process of making everyone else’s lives better, my life is just fucked up; that my life fucking sucks.

However, after going to bed, I thought about what I had said and I realized (as I always do later) how flipping dramatic that was and how that is probably not completely true.

Having BPD makes everything, EVERYTHING seem huge. Even if it is not. I feel things intensely and react in the moment of that intensity. Then when I look back on conversations or things I have said, I realize that my dramatic reaction was probably not the entire truth. Not because I am intentionally lying about it, but because I am just an emotional reactor and everything is big at that moment.

So I wanted to take a minute to clarify–for both my own peace of mind, and for others who are the recipient of this ridiculousness that is me.

  1. I do not like being a stepparent. That is truth. However, I love those kids and I love their dad and their dad is the reason I put up with them and all their issues.
  2. I don’t know if their issues are all that hard or if they are just normal kids and its just been so long for me that I don’t remember my kids being like this.
  3. My life does not suck. I have a roof over my head, a family that loves me, friends that love me, a new car, a pool in my backyard and dogs that I would die for.  I get to fish on the weekends which makes me incredibly happy. I have food in my belly AND I don’t have to cook it very often. My boyfriend does so much for me and I am a sucky cunt that doesn’t tell him very often how much I appreciate it–even though I do. I really, really do.
  4. I do hate having to handle the bulk of the financial burden–not because I’m not capable, but because I am greedy and want all my money for myself because I work hard for it.
  5. I do not hate my life. In the truth side, I have a pretty good life. I just like to complain mostly, because that is what I do. (BPD and being a hormonal psycho fucks me up that way)
  6. Lately I have had a lot of tragedy and I am emotionally charged–even more so than normal and I react from a place of pain and sadness lately.

So my whole point is this: when you are talking to me, and I get really shitty and dramatic about things—please realize I probably don’t really mean all of it. That part of it is the truth and the other dramatic shitty part is my BPD rearing its ugly ass head.

I really am not unhappy in my life. If I was, I would leave it. Its’ what I do. I have no problem walking away for the most part. So don’t feel bad for me. I did all this to myself. I will handle it and live with it and do what I have to do to make it work.

Just remember, I will always be over the top with things and I truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all for listening and being there for me regardless of my drama and over-exaggerations that I love to spew.

I love you all to infinity. And I would literally die (see there’s one) without all of you.

I suck at telling everyone my true feelings because its overwhelming to me–but I really, truly, honestly, completely love and cherish and am thankful for you all.

 

Struggling

So I have been struggling lately, trying to find a reason to explain why all these shitty things have been happening in my life—-from my car taking a dump to my mom, Luann, passing away to my nephew, Broc, dying in a car accident a week later and all the stupid other things in between. I’ve been questioning everything I believe in and I want someone to blame.

I have always believed in karma, or at least I think I have. Anytime anything shitty happens in my life, I immediately assume its karma and try to figure out my past behavior to see if I have done something stupid to deserve what is happening to me now. There are a lot of times that I cannot pinpoint any negative behavior and it just pisses me off because I feel that I don’t deserve whatever is happening to me because I haven’t been a fucked up person that I am aware of. However, I also know I tend to be stupid and mean and judgmental when I am in a BPD cycle. I also tend to disassociate, so I just chalk it up to something stupid I said or did and have blocked out. Part of my therapy was learning tools to stop this type of thing and I have been hyper-aware of my behavior and so I think I tend to be pretty conscious of it lately. Which makes all that is happening even harder to deal with—because I can’t find a solid reason its happening. I hate not knowing stuff.

Regardless, I have spent the last 36 hours in bed contemplating  everything, trying to find answers, trying to find reasons, coming up with nothing that helps; so here I am at 3am, not being able to sleep and coming to the conclusion that maybe there is not a karmic reason this is happening. Maybe this shit isn’t due to the fact that any of us were shitty human beings for a moment. Maybe life is just fucking unfair sometimes and there is nothing we can do about that, nor is there anyone to blame. It just is what it is.

Which fucking sucks. But ironically, makes me feel better. I hate questioning my beliefs. It makes me feel useless and helpless and alone. And I already isolate myself enough because of my stupid BPD. Isolating myself from my belief in God or the universe or whatever it is out there that usually looks after me pretty well makes me angry and sad and I don’t want to feel that way anymore.

The stuff that happened is a tragedy. There is no question about that and my heart breaks every time I think about it. My heart especially breaks when I think about what Lilia, Kayla, and Noel are going through. My family in Utah are right in the thick of the pain and tragedy and here I am being selfish and thinking about me and trying to find a reason to make me feel better about what is happening.

Don’t get me wrong, I know that helping myself cope is normal and healthy, but when others are suffering way more than I am, I don’t need to put myself first the entire time. That brings guilt and I am sick to fuck of feeling guilty all the time. So I am going to let that go

And I am going to just accept that shitty things happen to good people, even though I cannot understand why. Someone, somewhere has a plan and just because I cannot understand it or even agree with it, doesn’t mean its not true.

So moving on from my anger, I just want to let all my people who have been touched by these latest tragedies that I am here for whatever you need. I am here for whatever I am capable of doing for you. I am here.

I love you all and hang in there as best as you can.

Fuck Your God.

My whole life I have questioned whether God exists or not. Science is a compelling argument and so are some people’s beliefs…  however, I have never quite truly believed there is one all-mighty powerful God up there. For a couple reasons. First and foremost–if there is one actual God, he is a fucking douche tool of the highest order. How could a God that supposedly “died for us and gave us life and blesses us daily “allow such horrible things to happen to good people??? I don’t get it. I don’t understand why this supposed all mighty person allows so many bad things to happen period.

My dear friend and non-bio mother just passed away from health reasons. It was a huge blow to me and kids and a bigger blow to her family. Luann was one of the greatest people I have ever met. She was kind and generous and loving and non-judgmental. She took care of everyone. She loved unconditionally. She might be the only person I have ever known who had that capability. She was the mother of my heart and soul. She loved me and my kids like we were her own. In her mind and heart we were. And she died at 65. It was a tragedy. But I have always said “things happen for a reason”.  Well in her case, she had health issues and is no longer in pain. I hate it, but I can accept it.

Her daughter and husband however are having a harder time.  Lilia was closer to her mother than most best friends are. They were more than mother and daughter, they were best friends and sisters.  Luann helped raise Lilia’s kids; Kayla and Broc. They were a very close family. And not having had that in my life, they took me right in and made me their own. I cannot even begin to explain how much that means to me on so many levels.

I went down to Utah to attend the funeral for Luann. I took my youngest son, who is related by blood; Luann is his grandmother.  It was hard. It was hard not seeing her and hugging her and talking to her. It was hard seeing her husband, Noel, break down. He is like a father to me. It was hard seeing Lilia, who was always like my sister and best friend wrapped up in one. What is worse was the guilt. The guilt came hard and fast and crushed me.

I left Utah 17 years ago because my life was basically in the toilet and if I didn’t get out of there, I would have lost everything. I was using drugs, I was in a shitty relationship, and I was making really bad choices for myself and my children. So I had to leave. I left my soulmate which tore me in shreds. I also left my family—Luann, Noel and Lilia and the rest of the family. It destroyed what was left of me. I hated leaving them. I think I hated leaving them more than I hated leaving Choney. It took years for my heart to heal enough to deal with it.

In those 17 years, I have kept in touch with them for the most part. I mean we all had our own lives and we definitely could have done much much better at keeping in touch, but we didn’t. And because of that, the guilt consumes me. It makes me feel sick.

I know Luann understood my need to leave. She understood that I would have never gotten my shit together had I stayed in Utah. I know with my heart she understood this…but I know it still broke her heart when we left. As much as it broke mine. And fuck, the guilt.

It will pass. I know this. But it sucks while it is here.  Losing a parent is harder than I ever imagined. I guess I have been lucky in my life because I haven’t really lost anyone that was super close to me. My grandparents were hard, but we weren’t really close, so it wasn’t as devastating as losing Luann.

And the pain I feel for Noel and Lilia and what they are going through just compounds it. I cannot even imagine.

Then the kicker.

I have heard that the hardest thing to deal with is the loss of a child. I think at all stages this is difficult, but I feel like it would be more difficult the older the child is. You’ve had so many years with them to know them and love them and be with them……….and then one day, they are gone. The heart shattering pain that must be is too much for me to comprehend.  I hope I never have to experience it firsthand.

However, watching someone else experience it is just as damaging. You can do nothing. NOTHING. Nothing makes it better. Nothing makes it ease. Nothing makes it go away. You can do nothing. It is a horrible, hopeless, useless way to feel. I would never compare it to the parent of the child, but its devastating nonetheless.

Lilia lost her mom a week ago. Today she lost her oldest son. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??????  What in the mother fuck did she do to deserve this? What did any of them do to deserve this. She is a strong person. She is stronger than she knows, but even the strongest of people will break eventually. I feel like this will be her break. And I want to tell God to fuck the hell off. How can you kick a person when they are down like that?

It was a senseless tragedy. He died in a car accident. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t something anyone was prepared for. It wasn’t a health issue. It was sudden and unexpected and absolutely not necessary. He just got married. He has an 8 month old daughter. He has a sister who worships him and a mother who cherishes him.  He has a family and a life to live still. He was so young. I just don’t understand.

Why? All the fucking religious people out there than believe in your all-mighty God, tell me? Why crush a person when they are already crushed? Why isn’t your fucking piece of shit God out there looking out for the good people? And don’t tell me everything happens for a fucking reason?  If so, what the fuck is the reason?

I have always believed in the universe and karma. But now I am starting to really wonder if that is a real thing? I have never known Lilia or her family to be cruel or mean or judgmental or anything but loving and generous and amazing. Why them? Why her mom and her son in less than a week? What kind of vengeful bullshit is that?

The problem with this piece of shit world is that there is no fucking God. You all can make up however many stories, books, excuses, whatever but I am done trying to pretend any of it means anything. Because it doesn’t.  It never has. It never will.

So fuck your God.  And fuck the universe. I am done.

It’s about Time…

So that headline encompasses many things right now. First of all, I haven’t blogged in a while and I feel like I have been in withdrawal.  I gave myself a goal this year; to blog at least once a month. I think I have already fucked that up….oops. Well, I guess I will just start over with this one.

Second, time. I thought that time was all I needed to get used to this new life I have, but it is taking SO MUCH TIME to happen.

If you follow my blog, then you know I graduated from counseling in March. It was a HUGE step for me. A huge, scary step, but one I had to do. It was becoming monotonous and it felt like all I did was just bitch about my life for an hour instead of learn new things. So it was time for a break.  I will go back someday…just not for a while.

So much has happened this year already and its barely the halfway mark. There is that time thing again—sneaking up on me and kicking me square in the asshole.  My youngest son graduated this year. He is 21. Its been a long, eventful, stressful few years. But it is official over and while I am beyond proud of him, I am also so sad. He is my baby and now he’s like an official adult and shit. It was not really real while he was still chugging through high school..but now, its really fucking real. My baby is grown. 😦

Fucking time. It just moves too damn fast. But then not fast enough.

Choney and Adrianna have been here 3 years in October. That time has been slower than molasses and faster than a speeding bullet. There has been so much stress and frustration and resentment. There has also been some great times and good memories made.

Adrianna is a completely different child now than she was when she first came here. She is still a serious pain in the ass with her sneakiness and manipulation and lying, but she has also learned how to be good. She has developed a great personality and she is funny and helpful and interesting when she wants to be. She still has a long way to go, but has also come so far.

Her dad has also grown up. His parenting skills are not as frustrating. He still can’t quite grasp the concept of consistency, but he is learning. He drives me up a wall and makes me super happy all at the same time. Most days I am frustrated as fuck with him, but at the end of the day, I cannot imagine life without him anymore. Time will tell as far as that goes…

We also have a new addition to our household—his son, Anthony. There is not much I can say about him at this point because I am still angry and bitter and resentful about having to take on another fucking child…..  so I will just leave that there and move on.

I think the thing that pisses me off the most about all of this is that I raised my kids. They are all fantastic adults and now I feel like I am starting over with something I never wanted in the first place. I earned my adult freedom. Now, because I am stupid, I now have these three more people to raise all over, and honestly, I don’t fucking want to do it.

I want to be able to come and go as I please. I want to be able to sleep in without hearing kids fighting and screaming. I want to read my book without getting interrupted every five damn minutes. I want to go out and do things and not feel fucking guilty because I left everyone at home. I just want my silence back. I want my sanity back. I want my life back. This fucking life sucks.

At one point I had decided that maybe that is my mission in this life; to take care of everyone else. I do it at work every day. I now do it at home every day as well. Its all I do. Yet, nobody takes care of me…………….not even me.

Maybe it would be different if Choney had a job and contributed equally to this household? How do men stand it when their wives/girlfriends are stay at home parents? I cannot STAND having to pay for every damn thing. I cannot stand having to come home and bitch because the fucking house isn’t clean or dinner isn’t ready but you’ve been sitting in front of the television or on your phone for 8 hours doing dick. I can’t fucking stand that shit. I want an equal, not a fucking house bitch.  So therein lies my problem.

I don’t want this shit in my life, but they have no place to go, so kicking them out just brings on massive guilt and even more resentment.

I have a fucking roommate with kids. There is nothing between me and Choney. No intimacy, no sex, no affection, no nothing. We just occupy the same household that I pay for.

What is the fucking point?

Maybe it will be better with time?  Fuck time.