Tomorrow dawns…

“It’s a dirty business, dreaming
Where there is silence and not screaming
Where there’s no daylight
There’s no healing, no no

You’re gonna sleep like a baby tonight
In your dreams everything is alright
Tomorrow dawns like a suicide
But you’re gonna sleep like a baby tonight”

-“Sleep Like a Baby Tonight”, U2

Letter to Father

Dear Dad,

I don’t understand why the universe is the way it is. I know you’re a realist but I can’t make myself be that every moment like I’d like. I don’t understand why people like Rogers who do so little adulting, don’t try to look for a job or way of income; keep getting these windfalls that allow them to continue living in the avoidance way of life they’re used to.

Meanwhile I work so hard at trying to get the sort of position that could actually handle my bills and way of life and come up wanting every time. So many job applications. A handle of interviews. Nothing further. At all.

I won’t say “it isn’t fair” because you and I both know that’s a trite excuse for the cards the universe deals each and every person. I get that it isn’t supposed to be fair.

But it certainly isn’t easy to process or handle or deal with.

And I can’t deal. I would if I could but there’s only so many “no’s” and turn downs a person can take. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong and I don’t have the drive, desire, or energy to continue to try to discover how to solve this problem.

I don’t have the friends or relationships to give me any level of support to get through these black thoughts. I learned early to not share those inner thoughts and keep that mask on, but usually I had at least one person in my life I could let it slip with a bit.

No longer.

It’s exhausting having to keep this mask on all the time. I just can’t keep doing it like I have.

I just want to sleep.

Take care and enjoy all that perfect family portrait life that Teresa’s family offers. It’s better that way anyway.

I was always the black sheep in everything.

-K

Letter to Germany

Dear Germany,

I remember when we went to see Captain America before you left (hah, was it really that long ago that the Avengers were a new thing?) and I cried when Bucky fell out of the train and Steve had to mourn losing him. You thought I was a dork. I totally was. But I think now, I may have been that sort of precognizant dork that recognized a loss of my own coming. There is no one I’ve encounter that I have the bond with that I had with you. I suppose part of that is age. Such is being an adult. The world is your own; wholely.

God know Rogers has been a good friend. I can’t really fault him in any way. I’ve been withdraw for years now. There’s no new friend who could get under my skin and into my soul like you did back in the day.

Obviously not anymore.

Honestly, I don’t know whether we truly ever had it like that. Did we? Or was it just the innocence of youth that sort of gave us those rose-tinted glasses and the idea of this other person that could be part of our soul (without the messy romantic bullshit).

It was a beautiful idea regardless. Whether a lie or not.

These days feel like shadows. I can’t recapture that ideal of before no matter how much I reach. It could be that I’m not trying hard enough, but my ability is such that I’m not able to try harder. I would that I could. Such is my mantra for the moment. For the year. For this lifetime.

I would that I could.

There was so much shit in high school. So much. And yet, I would pry out the bit of idealistic friendship I had there for a couple years if I could. Because god knows I’ve never found it since. There is nothing wrong with my current group of friends. I know they try. But I just don’t open my soul like I used to. I don’t let anyone, platonic or otherwise, pry their way into that dark dank recess of what used to be a giving and loving place.

Obviously no longer.

I don’t have any magic excuses or apologies really to give you. I’m a selfish person at this point I suppose. Or weak. Or tired. Whatever you want to brand me with is fine. You’ve had your own thing now an entire ocean away anyhow. I’m sure I’ve be relegated to a blip on your radar at this point. And it’s fine. Distance is a bitch.

So is life.

-K

No Water

(trigger warning- depressed and self-harming)

Due to a cockup between the county and the city water suppliers, my water got disconnected at noon today. And the county (my supposed legit supplier) refused to turn it back on today, even though I completed their auto-payment two hours before the “cutoff time”.

I informed them they should edit their paperwork so to not be blatant liars. Then they said rude things about my attitude. Then I said rude things about their ability to be forthright with their citizens.

My water will not be turned on until some vague time tomorrow because they refused to give me a specific time.

I am trying to not have a complete meltdown but it’s been really fucking hard. Grey (my brother) brought some friend home even after I texted him and told him not to have guests because we have no working water (i.e. toilets).

My fucked up coping brain decided to take a couple narcs because the common side effect is constipation. Therefore I won’t have to poop. Now I get to be high and not poop. Tonight should be unicorn farts.

Instead more self-harm is happening and time is skipping like an elementary jumprope. Skip-pa-tat-tat. Tick tock tick tock.

Hips and arm. I know it’s bad when the cuts are in multiple places.

Maybe I’m not cut out to be a homeowner.

Or an adult.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Can’t even handle a little stress.

Just a little.

It’s not like I’ve been struggling to find a job without success for 6 months and my savings are dwindling to a joke of a joke. The only bigger joke is my pool of friends. Not a pool. Not even a puddle. Barely raindrops. I don’t deserve friends or jobs. Or houses. Or water.

I deserve blood blood blood.

Tick tock tick tock skip-a-tat-tat.

“Making my own road out of gravel and some wine.” -Gin Wigmore

Dementia and DID

I never knew what a trigger seeing someone I love with dementia and Alzheimer’s would be.

I traveled to Chicago (my hometown) this past three day weekend to help my father and aunt with sorting through my grandparents’ house. We just moved them to a care facility due to their debilitating dementia, Alzheimer’s, and self-care ability.
There wasn’t just the pain and stress of going through their house, the only stable home I’ve ever known; but also visiting them at the facility. They barely recognized me. Had no idea I am well past college and own my own house now.

The memory struggle hit me like a punch to the gut.

The weekend fractured and I have whole chunks missing. I’m back home now trying not to lose myself to the terror of losing my memory more and more. The crippling fright is more overwhelming than it’s been in years. Maybe ever. I’ve never seen the struggle of memory reconstruction from “the other side”.
I love my grandparents with my whole heart. But I seized in panic every single time we pulled into the facility’s parking lot. The first visit I could barely carry a conversation. The other visits are a hazy blur due to the disassociation/blackouts/switching/lost time.

I’ve discovered a trigger than I have practically no coping technique for. Besides being a shaking mess in my bed with Zoe.

I’d rather kill myself than have that much constant trouble with my memory.

And it terrifies me to think that I might already be more than halfway there.

My grandma when she was younger- she has an affinity for masks too.

My parents just before their marriage. They’re younger than me now in this shot.

Above are a couple of the old pictures I found while cleaning that give me a slight smile.

I don’t have the strength for a long entry, even though there is much I could say on this topic.

Pointless

It’s been awhile since I’ve cried in the bathroom at work.

The short of it is I’m a gullible idiot.

The woman (and baby) I was going to help did come over Friday afternoon. And stayed until late last night. Then they moved back out.

Basically because I refused to help find her heroin-addicted husband that abandoned her after she had their baby. One of the main reasons she said she needed to stay with me was to get away from him and keep her baby safe.

And she let me adore that baby. And watch him all of Saturday while she had to go to the ER for surgery complications.

And she wants to put him back in danger.

I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m scared. I’m just upset.

I’m feeling used.

She had some drug-addicted friend come get her and obviously I couldn’t lock her in my house.

I’ve just learned that reaching out, giving a part of myself is never ever good. Every time I do it it backfires.

So I’m done.

I’ll just do that whole shadow walking the next couple weeks. Finish what’s needed at work before I get laid off on the 31st.

Then who knows?

I don’t know how long I’ll last alone in my house with no job or drive to do anything.

I just don’t see the point any longer.

Letter to Army

(Note: trigger warning for self-harm and dark thoughts)

Dear Army,

I don’t need you.

I don’t need these feelings of helplessness.  I don’t need this terrified semi-triggered state where I curl into a ball in my bed at 6pm and wish wish wish sleep would claim me. 

I don’t need to dream of you.

I don’t need to start compulsively keeping that bottle of sleeping pills on my nightstand again.  I don’t need to reach for them when a mere hour has passed without sleep.

I certainly don’t need to take two. Or three. Each day adding one more because, hey; they don’t ‘effin work anyway. 

I don’t need to have the blade ready.  I don’t need to toss a promise made in a moment of delusion when I thought I had actual courage and strength. What a silly idea. A stupid idea.

I don’t need to be in charge of the beautiful life of a perfect and devoted dog who only gives love and acceptance and doesn’t see me as the broken shell of a person I am.

I don’t need to think about those days when I was dependant on a whole other person. Those days I didn’t have a thought of silver blades and sweet aching hunger sated by putting a cigarette to my lips and inhaling to see the sweet sparkles behind my eyes (way better than food anyway).
I don’t need to remember that it was so easy to fall into being the other half of someone’s soul. A soul that can be ripped out and grown again because I am silly and stupid and not important and codependency is a real problem. Why can’t I learn that and that I better learn it because I am a wounded bird and she’s so done being my white knight.

I don’t need reminded of my joy in “being domestic” and having meals ready, a house to clean, laundry to do. I don’t need to be reminded of the loss that you don’t give a damn about that may have robbed me from my heartfelt desire of being a mother.

I don’t need you to be the first person I think about telling when I have something happy- sad- scary- funny- happen to me. I don’t need to start daydreaming about a day where you’ll want me to be domestic for you and you’ll say I’m yours and yours alone and the thought of being without me physically pains you. 

I don’t need support because a lady is to stand alone and face the world as just me because a lady is strong, silent, and doesn’t ever complain. A lady can go through life with that mask always firmly in place. A lady never ever shows the world pain or fear.

I don’t need.

I don’t need.

Ever.

All the love in my heart that is crushing me (killing me),
Pen

Worthless

Tonight is hard.

Today was hard.

The past couple days have been hard.

My mask has been tightly in place until I am behind closed doors.

Thank goodness that skill was learned well.

I just feel like giving up so much right now. It’s so hard to stay postive with these crushing thoughts and constant insomnia.

I tried opening up a bit to Army about feeling down Friday. Via text, because texting is so magical in it’s security to allow deeper confessions without face-to-face or even verbal interaction.  Army used the phrase “we’ll figure it out”, which has just completely thrown my whole system for a loop. 

Somehow that simple phrase triggered a whole codependency fear I have. My issues should be solved by me alone (well…alone-ish, har har).

And now he hasn’t said a word to me since Friday night. He’s been active on Facebook, so it isn’t his job getting in the way. I’m sure I’m reading too much into it but I can’t stop.

I can’t stop.

Even when I unwrap a fresh blade, I notice how it says “made in USA” and my insides twist because I want to joke with him about of course the US still manages to make their own razor blades.

But I can’t.

I won’t seem needy. Or clingy. Or crazy.

So instead I break a promise.

Over and over I break that promise, the red lines multiplying.

My word isn’t worth shit.

I’m not worth shit.

I should just finish the bottle or bring the blade somewhere higher than my knee.

This is so hard.

My life is worthless.

Healing

(Trigger warning for talk of suicidal thoughts and sex. Not at the same time…)

We’re doing better now.  Kit’s not hanging around much anymore, but I’m not really surprised by that.
I never thought I’d be the one running the show for longer than an evening, but everyone seems to have decided I should indefinitely, especially after this weekend.

Let me explain a bit.

We got a surprising amount of support after Friday.
Partly from my mother and Texas, who sweetly made sure I wasn’t left to my own devices for long after the Friday night disaster.
Texas was mad at me for not calling or texting her, but when I explained that though I was technically suicidal, my true goal of that night was just getting drugged enough to not feel emotions.  Which is what happened. She wasn’t happy, but she forgave me.  She doesn’t normally do that, so I was floored.  And much nicer to her than I usually am, not usually being a “girl’s girl” myself.

However, due to the fact that it’s been a long time since I’ve taken that many narcotics, I was extremely sick/hungover most of Saturday morning and fought nausea, shaking, and dizziness for most of the day.  I managed though, and by the evening was completely fine.
Well enough, in fact, to help run a Halloween-related booth at a local downtown Halloween store event.  It was fun and healing to enjoy my favorite holiday.

Then Sunday I went to lunch with my mother and Texas and just talked about life, men, friends, careers, and girly crap.  It was great.  Strange that I enjoyed it.  Rika and Roms think I’m evolving or something.  Fuck if I know.

________________________________________________________________________________

I also got constant texts from Army throughout the weekend.  Starting Friday night, actually.  I didn’t reply until Saturday due to my state-of-mind, but we chatted amicably Saturday morning.  Then in a rare moment of emotional-mental-semi-psychic/understanding, he figured out something was bothering me Saturday afternoon.

Being that Army and Jeff are very good friends, I didn’t elaborate.  That wouldn’t be fair.  And despite being told otherwise, I do care about and respect Jeff enough to not fuck-up friendships.
Army was a bit upset that I wouldn’t talk to him about it, but when I explained vaguely that it had to do with Jeff and I didn’t want to be unfair to their friendship, he understood.

Then he started pestering me Sunday to hang out.  After Monday night, I wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, but when I said I was going to see “Hotel Transylvania” with Texas and her boyfriend, he said he’d love to join us.

I was surprised, to say the least.

First of all, Army is not really into hanging out with other people, especially couples.  Secondly, he isn’t a big fan of animated movies.

I pressed him on why he was so insistent, and he said he just wanted to spend time with me.  This again, surprised me.  This weekend was just Surprise Central, obviously.

The movie was good.  A father-daughter movie, which made me a bit uncomfortable, but still enjoyable.  I had ridden to the theatre with Texas, so as we were leaving, I mentioned this to Army and he said he’d be happy to take me home.

We ended up making a detour to my mother’s law firm….because…ahem, despite my “evolving”, I’m still Charlotte.  And there wasn’t really anywhere else private for Army and I at 10pm on a Sunday. And I have keys to the small office and knew no one was going to be there.

I learned a couple things.

First of all, desk-sex is not as easy as porn and erotica would have you believe.
And floor sex is effin’ painful.  My back is killing me and I have rugburns in places a woman should not have rugburns.
And Army did this thing that…normally would have me uber-triggered (I won’t elaborate), but actually didn’t bother me at all.  If anything, I enjoyed it.

I never thought time with Army would be healing.  We actually spent most of the time just talking.

He was kind about the recent cuts on my thigh, which in the past he’s flipped out about.  I talked about some of my insecurities and all the ways I’m obviously a fuck-up and not a normal woman.  I talked a bit about James The Stranger.

He spent way more time that I thought he ever would in reassuring me that there’s nothing wrong with me not being able to do a lot of normal emotional things, and certainly nothing wrong with me physically (see Victoria??).
He only lectured me on driving into the middle of nowhere unsafely when it came to James.  When I joked about wishing he’d just murdered me in his creepy house in the middle of nowhere, Army got angry.  But then…he actually read my body language and emotional distress, and comforted me instead.  It’s like he’s possessed by an alien.

Afterwards, we went to Shadow Dragon’s.  He was supposed to just drop me off, but he said he really wanted to see Zoe if he could.  I hesitated, as I don’t like being a rude roommate and having people over without warning.

But Zoe is our weakness, so I caved and let him in, making him promise to be quiet.  Zoe was ecstatic to see him, which made me smile.  They played outside and then we sat on the couch together and talked a little bit more.

It’s been such a long time since I’ve actually just talked to Army.  Since before…yeah.  I even mentioned the whole miscarriage thing being part of what had me so depressed lately and he showed a surprisingly caring side.  I don’t want to talk about it in too much detail.  It was private and my moment and I don’t want to share it with the others.
The moment it’s written about in this blog, all the others have access to it.

I dunno why I feel possessive about Army.  I suppose to be fair, he’s always been mostly “my relationship”.  Kit and Audrey handled him for moments at a time, but it was usually me that spent time with him.

I just never thought I’d get so touchy-feely that I’d need some sort of healing.  And I never, ever thought he’d be the best one to provide it.

Windchimes again

Perhaps this is what the warning was for.

Everything going sideways.

I think it was from Audrey.  I’m so sorry Audrey.  I’m sorry for everything that happened to you, for everything you went through.

I understand why you went away.

Sometimes I think about joining you.

Sometimes I think we should all join you.

But I know that’s wrong and bad.
It’s just…everything She did…everything She didn’t.
I don’t understand how it means nothing to Kit and Midori and Serefina.  We lost Audrey over everything She did.  Sweet, soft, gentle Audrey.  Audrey who only ever loved with every bit of herself as deeply as she could.
And all it did was hurt her.  And destroy her.

Then there was Cordelia.  Our darling. Our light. Our life. Two against the world.
…I didn’t know my heart could break this much.  And now the anniversary is approaching, rearing it’s ugly head and reminding us of all the ways we aren’t good enough.

Rika has a theory that Audrey and I are twinned (Shadow Dragon talks about that concept occasionally).  I guess I can see that.  It would explain why I only have felt like half of a whole since she’s been gone.

Maybe if I keep talking to her…if I don’t act like she is gone…maybe Audrey will come back.  She could come back and fix everything…