“Babe, you’ve been doing so good lately.”
He never calls me babe, but that isn’t what is important.
I had another breakdown today.
There was a tiny glimmer at the end of the tunnel. The guidelines for what I had to do were being laid down. I was given hope that one day soon I would be able to try to work again, move out and be stable.
I had forgotten that as long as I am in this house – I will never be stable. Never be healthy.
Because I can never make my mother stable or healthy.
I had begun to become so excited that Sassy will be here Friday. Three weeks away from this hell and in a happy place with my best friend. Where I would be able to pretend I am normal and healthy. That I am not psychotic or suicidal 80% of them time. Where I am not giving myself a time line that ends in me giving up.
Where my thoughts aren’t constantly attacking myself. Reminding me I am a waste, fat, or useless. Damaging everyone around me and just never stop at making things worse.
Day in and out, I feel like a parasite. Slowly draining the bodies I rely on for food, emotion and money. Parasites should be killed. I offer nothing to those I suck the life force from.
Robbie’s last words to me before he died were screamed, “you are just an ungrateful little bitch. Grow the hell up.”
Because Mom was in another mood and I am always the one to set them off.
I am always dizzy, and in pain. I am always shaking and falling over. But no one ever believes me. They say it is in my head.
I will be driving and not remember where I was or how I got there. I don’t vary from my route but I won’t remember parts of it.
I am terrified of being locked up. Put away.
Once you are in – you don’t come out in my family. And even if you did, that secret would eat me alive. The Stigma destroys you all on its own.
So will the stigma destroy the parasite or will something else?
I keep telling myself to keep it in or on the paper.
I try so hard to stop constantly going to Mike or Sassy about this. Talking to them doesn’t help because there is no way to help. So, they just become understandably frustrated and hurt when it doesn’t work.
People don’t like sad people. They drag them down. People leave sad people.
I guess that is why everyone leaves.
This post was drafted and published using the WordPress App for Android on my Galaxy S4. There are more than likely spelling or grammatical errors I may have missed before posting. Please forgive them, this is just a personal blog.