I am finally figuring out that I must be some special kind of failure. Seriously. Now I do not mean special as in 'special = good or better' but special as in I am particularly stupid for not just moving past it all. From my childhood to my adulthood, I am stupid for not being able to just put on my big girl panties and suck it up and move on with my life. But it wasn't just my daughter being hurt. It was everthing leading up to it and then after she was hurt, the accusation of using drugs which was totally unfounded and I was accused of that by child protection services right in front of my daughter; it was my sister telling me that she was going to have me committed. It has been every decision since then that has turned to shit right in front of my eyes. It is my daughter telling me, after I waited for a few weeks after she unfriended me on facebook:
"Maybe there is a reason we aren't friends anymore. We aren't supposed to be friends. You're supposed to be my mom, but you are not. Instead you are a self centered, vindictive person. You are not what a mom should be. And I am tired of waiting for you to get your head out of your ass. I have wasted 20 years hoping you would show me REAL love, but I don't think you know what that is. So I'm done. By the way, I know why you sent that card in may; you were trying to hint that it was almost mothers day. YOU wanted the attention instead of showing your child the time of day. Oh, and P.S. Thanks for the happy fucking birthday."
So now I mix fresh blood with the old and new tears. A blending of what I am reduced to. Pain. That is all that I am. Every day. Every moment. Sometimes I am so fucking good at putting on my smiling face facade to the world. Other times I just can't hide it and I am made to feel guilty for having feelings other than gratefulness.
Ah fuck it. no one gives two shits. no one cares. no one should care. i should just put on my big girl panties, suck it up, and not be a stupid little shit anymore
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Like A Knife To The Heart
It is like a knife to the heart whenever I see on facebook that my daughters stepmother has posted something to one of my childrens pages. It is always all love and happiness and I admit to a certain level of jealousy that she is able to always be so happy and upbeat while I sit and suffer with depression, anxiety and panic attacks.
I know I should be able to put the past behind me and just get over it already. I should not let the past have such a tight hold on my present. But I don't know how to break the cycle. I can't help when I get panic attacks, sometimes just out of the blue with no rhyme or reason. I do have ways of trying to keep to keep my thoughts from cycling. Normally I not only have a certain movie playing on the t.v. on repeat (over and over all day and all night long) but I also use my ear phones for having a specific music cd play as well. These two things together sometimes, while I am awake, keep my thoughts from looping over and over and over again with all the things I have done wrong, they let me have some other thoughts now and then or at least keep me from being trapped in my past. Not that they always work, but anything that helps is a plus.
Then comes the guilt. If I smile at something I feel guilty. After all, why should I be even marginally happy if I have not made right the mistakes from my past - the mistakes that no matter how much time is at my disposal, nothing will ever make right again. I can't take back my children being placed for adoption because I was scared that I would not be able to be any kind of mother, let alone a good one. I cannot take back the fact that my daughter was abused even though that was my greatest fear and what kept me from fighting to be in her life (better no mom than a mom that hurts her children, right?). Sure, that has huge webs that trace back to my own childhood, but I didn't want even a HINT that I could be like my own mother and my fear was so great that I would or could be that instead of proving that they cycle ended with me, I instead decided to take myself out of the equation (minus the permanence of suicide).
So here I sit. A wasted, useless, pathetic piece of humanity, living off the scraps of those around her, hoping against hope that someday soon the nightmares and memories will leave me be enough that maybe, JUST MAYBE! there may be something worth salvaging of my life. And then I look around myself and realize that that ship sailed too many years ago. The only thing I have to look forward to now is either October 14th, the two year anniversary of my friends death - or November 15th, the two year anniversary of my Cini-Mini's death. I know that this November 15th will be the day. I will celebrate Samhain on October 31st, remembering my family members, friends and of course my Cini-Mini and then two weeks later will be the day. The anniversary of her death that could have been prevented. I have had to wait two years instead of just one because of all the things going on in my sisters life.
Between moving, settling, this, that, and the other, there has always been something that has stood in my way in these last two years. No more. I have given too much of my time and too much of my thoughts to others - smiling and being supportive when I didn't know what the fuck I should be doing! It is my time. It is my turn. My Cini-Mini and I will be reunited again, at the rainbow bridge.
Will I be leaving things undone? Yes. I will regret that my daughter Mariah's last words to me will be that I am ungrateful and spiteful and I never got my head out of my ass. I hope she never has to live what I have. I hope she never responds to trauma like I did and become a victim of my own thoughts and mind. I wish I could hug her and tell her that through it all, all I feel for her is love and have her believe it and know it in her heart. I hate that I will never have the chance to see my daughter Caitlin. Hug her again. Touch her skin. Know that the love I felt for her the day she was born, hell BEFORE SHE WAS BORN! still holds my heart. I hate that I won't be able to hug Dax again and tell him what a strong young man he is and what a strong man he is destined to become. I hate that even if I were to live that I could not hug my children without feeling like a total and complete failure. I couldn't hug them at all as I don't touch other people. At all. Ever.
What do I hope for though? That the cycle ends with me. That when I am gone there is no legacy of not being able to touch others. No legacy of nightmares. No legacy of memories that do nothing but haunt your every moment awake and sleeping.
May it end with my. November 15th. This is my dream.
I know I should be able to put the past behind me and just get over it already. I should not let the past have such a tight hold on my present. But I don't know how to break the cycle. I can't help when I get panic attacks, sometimes just out of the blue with no rhyme or reason. I do have ways of trying to keep to keep my thoughts from cycling. Normally I not only have a certain movie playing on the t.v. on repeat (over and over all day and all night long) but I also use my ear phones for having a specific music cd play as well. These two things together sometimes, while I am awake, keep my thoughts from looping over and over and over again with all the things I have done wrong, they let me have some other thoughts now and then or at least keep me from being trapped in my past. Not that they always work, but anything that helps is a plus.
Then comes the guilt. If I smile at something I feel guilty. After all, why should I be even marginally happy if I have not made right the mistakes from my past - the mistakes that no matter how much time is at my disposal, nothing will ever make right again. I can't take back my children being placed for adoption because I was scared that I would not be able to be any kind of mother, let alone a good one. I cannot take back the fact that my daughter was abused even though that was my greatest fear and what kept me from fighting to be in her life (better no mom than a mom that hurts her children, right?). Sure, that has huge webs that trace back to my own childhood, but I didn't want even a HINT that I could be like my own mother and my fear was so great that I would or could be that instead of proving that they cycle ended with me, I instead decided to take myself out of the equation (minus the permanence of suicide).
So here I sit. A wasted, useless, pathetic piece of humanity, living off the scraps of those around her, hoping against hope that someday soon the nightmares and memories will leave me be enough that maybe, JUST MAYBE! there may be something worth salvaging of my life. And then I look around myself and realize that that ship sailed too many years ago. The only thing I have to look forward to now is either October 14th, the two year anniversary of my friends death - or November 15th, the two year anniversary of my Cini-Mini's death. I know that this November 15th will be the day. I will celebrate Samhain on October 31st, remembering my family members, friends and of course my Cini-Mini and then two weeks later will be the day. The anniversary of her death that could have been prevented. I have had to wait two years instead of just one because of all the things going on in my sisters life.
Between moving, settling, this, that, and the other, there has always been something that has stood in my way in these last two years. No more. I have given too much of my time and too much of my thoughts to others - smiling and being supportive when I didn't know what the fuck I should be doing! It is my time. It is my turn. My Cini-Mini and I will be reunited again, at the rainbow bridge.
Will I be leaving things undone? Yes. I will regret that my daughter Mariah's last words to me will be that I am ungrateful and spiteful and I never got my head out of my ass. I hope she never has to live what I have. I hope she never responds to trauma like I did and become a victim of my own thoughts and mind. I wish I could hug her and tell her that through it all, all I feel for her is love and have her believe it and know it in her heart. I hate that I will never have the chance to see my daughter Caitlin. Hug her again. Touch her skin. Know that the love I felt for her the day she was born, hell BEFORE SHE WAS BORN! still holds my heart. I hate that I won't be able to hug Dax again and tell him what a strong young man he is and what a strong man he is destined to become. I hate that even if I were to live that I could not hug my children without feeling like a total and complete failure. I couldn't hug them at all as I don't touch other people. At all. Ever.
What do I hope for though? That the cycle ends with me. That when I am gone there is no legacy of not being able to touch others. No legacy of nightmares. No legacy of memories that do nothing but haunt your every moment awake and sleeping.
May it end with my. November 15th. This is my dream.
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