the ecology of fake it

i live in a house where people are not allowed to be anything but happy. if i complain, have pain, get sick, oh well. Who cares. Be happy anyways. Well guess what. I am not happy. I am not hunky dorey. I hurt, by stomach hurts. I am carrying this pain all alone. There is not one to come along and take it for a while, no one cames and say let me help you or care for you. I live a silent lonely existence surrounded by people..Like so many people do. They live this silent existence of pretending until they get tired of pretending nothing is wrong. and then they sit and cry, alone, in the dark where no one can see them because they are ashamed that they aren;t strong enough to always be happy. upbeat, do good for everyone.

always waiting

Since I have had Jade, and then davids injury, i feel like I am constantly waiting for the other show to drop. What is God gonna throw at me next. I am going to break from it. Oh yeah, I already feel broken. I think thats where my lack of faith comes in. If I can handle whatever God allows to come into my life, then why did I break to begin with?

I DONT WANNA!

Peral have pointed out my resentment.
A Hem.. Who me? resent anyone. resent anything? resent my situation?
Me. Never!
Ok thats a lie. Thats my life is lying about my resentment.
I resent having to go to all of these appointment, and do all of this stuff, because no one really cares. The kids don't want to go to the appointment. The husband only wants to go because he gets meds. I mean no one really wants to go and so I sit there and do all of this stuff, but none of it is what we want to do. We just want to live, to go on and play and have some fun in between the grief and pain of loss that seems to permeate our lives.

I resent all the loss and that God doesn't protect me from all of this loss. So much loss that most people cry or feel sad when they hear about my life. Why can't God give us some good things. I want some good thing. Its seems like I have to work sooooooo hard for good things for our family.

the scissors

i was young, probably 5 or 6. I was standing next to the dining room table. My mom was standing next to me. There was a scissors on the table. i remember i was looking down and them and her hand came across them. then she said to me that i better run because the voices were telling her to kill me.

i felt very sick and ran really fast up the stairs to my room and locked the door. I don't think i came out again til my dad came home.

i didn't hang around her much after that. i mostly just played alone.

I am powerless

I am powerless over this shame,anxiety,addiction. Its the first step. I am powerless over my shoulds and worthless feelings. i know to you guys your gonna scream and cry you are not powerless.
Thats just it. I am. I, at this point, am powerless to defeat it. powerless to fight it, because at this point I feel like I am fighting myself.
But I can use my true self to peel away these layers and not need power over them. Not need rage, just be me.

its not good enough

who cares that you are buying me a brand new computer with your financial aid.. no..it can't just be new.. it has to be .. THE BEST..
Arg!.. AHHHHH!
He is such a fucking ass! I don't get the tablet computer I want.. or the finished living room, or even the new battery I need for my laptop, because you have to have the best. Impractical. It can't just be a good computer, it has to have the best so it doesnt lag at all.. it has to be.. PERFECT. Guess what.. no such FUCKING thing!

The weight of shame

I feel so ashamed of myself because I am not bringing in money to feed my husbands addiction to entertainment.
I cannot feed his need, his want, his gotta have it, and he has a brain injury, so who am i to tell him he can't have it.
He needs focus. He has to be able to focus. Focus on a tv show, the harsher the better. Talking blood and gore and sex and violence. I can't even walk in the room without my stomach going into a knot. Then he complains that I don't spend any time with him.
Everquest, hours and hours and hours on end. So much so that he doesn't spend time with anyone, I feel ignored and get mad. I vent, rage pouring out like hot lava. He confirms that I am worthless with his lack of focus on me. I make myself busy, filling up with school and kids and waiting, for what I am not sure.
Back and forth he goes, and then he stops for a time, and complains. It takes too much money, he doesn't have a good enough computer, I don't buy the food he likes, He is alone, I am alone. He looks to games, I struggle frantically in a tiny world made of straw to find connection in something real.   Sex is out. His back hurts and he can't breathe. he falls and hurts himself again, I am helpless. I do and he steals, I have anxiety and then he has anxiety. I go to school, he gets jealous, and so on and so forth. My life is fake. Its not real. it feels fake. Like a half life, waiting to die.
He hates me. Not really but he does. He hates my feelings. He hates that I feel. He numbs his feelings. He plays and eats.
he has his own room, I spent so much to get it just right. Now its a new computer, and a new TV. Then it will be another new computer, he plays two at a time, or its too boring. But he is disabled. and I am the bread winner.
I don't eat, because when I do I can't stop. It feel to good to eat. It numbs the pain. It takes the anguish from within my body for a time. i am never full. My son has taken this, but i still have it. I hate it. I just want to feel full. But I also want chocolate.