I’ve completely failed in my plan for what this blog was supposed to be, but it’s ok, I’ve grown from the experience. I’m probably going to delete this account (eventually) and start anew under a new name and hopefully I’ll do better.
There was once a beautiful and majestic eagle. She could soar higher in the sky than any other creature in the forest. She loved beauty and life above all else.
She one day discovered a snake in her nest. Her first thought, as powerful as she was, was to eat the snake. But she saw that the snake had a gorgeous pattern of bright colors upon its back. So, she decided to speak to it instead.
“Ho there, Snake. This is my nest, and I am a hunter of your kind. How is it that you have happened into such a dangerous place?”
“Forgive me, great eagle, for I did not know this nest was yours” said the snake. “I too am a hunter and I saw these eggs here would make a fine meal. But I have found that your nest is quite comfortable, and very beautiful as well…
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Can’t sleep. Exahusted, but unable to just shut down. The weight of the world is pressing me into pulp. What a truly awful world we live in. Every day I see new stories involing babies/children getting beaten, abused, raped, and/or killed. I’m terrified to be living in this world. I’m terrified for my three beautiful children. Those little devils drive me to the very brink of insanity, but may God have mercy on the soul of anyone who hurts them for a monster will be freed from its binds and wreak bloody havoc. Hell will be unleashed on Earth and I will not hold back. I am certain of this. God help me I hope I will never have to prove that.
I see vivid images of the terrible things that have been done to these innocent lives and my mind takes that information and runs with it creating terrible scenarios and making my children the stars of my own personal horror show. My mind loves to make me trapped and helpless during the scenes. This is so much worse than the flashbacks. I can deal with what’s already heen done to me, but I cannot deal with something that hasn’t even happened, but could.
I’m feeling more and more unbalanced as time goes on. Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate a memory from an imagined scenario. I’m able to sort them out eventually, but there have been times it’s been difficult. I’ve been trying to gauge my particular level of crazy, but I’m not sure where I stand. All I really know is I’m too close to that brink and I just want to get as far from crazy as possible, but it’s a slippery slope and I’m losing my grip.
I almost wrote a suicide note today. I don’t know if I would have done anything after writing it, I didn’t want to tempt fate. I almost relapsed this morning. Apparently I’m still a recovering cutter. I am so close to my 10 year mark. As of right now, 11:45pm on July 5th 2017 I have 46 days left since the last time I self harmed. 46 fucking days. I never thought I’d actually make it 10 years, but here I am. So god damn close I can almost taste it and I nearly threw it away.
But why? Why did I nearly abandon my desire, my dream to better myself? Because motherhood is shattering me. Living this life is killing me. I can’t imagine my life any other way. I sometimes try to, but it’s never better than what I have now.
The only reason I did not relapse, the only reason I did not write my suicide note or make any plans to end my life is because of the very children who are breaking my sanity. As I sat on the edge of my bed, sobbing uncontrollably, all three of my kids sat around me, hugging me and pat my back in an effort to comfort me. I cannot betray them. The only thing they are guilty of is giving me a purpose when I didn’t want one.
My family does not deserve the burden that I am. I wish I were a better mother and wife. I try so hard to be, but I fall miserably short.
I am so sorry.
I’m messed up! Oh God you guys I messed up bad! I’m currently trapped in my bathroom. I don’t know what to do. There’s only one way in and one way out and I can’t go through it!
This started two days ago. It was late at night. I was up reading my book when nature called. As I was washing my hands I saw, out of the corner of my eye, something move up the wall. I quickly look up and stare into the beady eyes of the Octimonster! I never broke my gaze as I was washing my hands. After I finished up I frantically started thinking of ways to destroy it.
I didn’t want to call my husband because he had a long day at work and was sound asleep, I didn’t want to just walk away because I never would have gone back to sleep, my only option was to eradicate the creep.
I absolutely can not stand using toilet paper to squash bugs, I physically can’t do it, but I had a squirt bottle of hairspray… I grabbed that bottle and squirt hairspray all over it. It freaked out and fell onto the counter, squirming and writhing, so I doused it some more.
Like any super villain ever, I was overconfident in my ability to wipe out my enemy and walked away before I could confirm it’s death.
Fast forward to today: I climb out of my relaxing shower to get ready for my day, as I’m wrapping the towel around me I look up and there the bastard is, on the side of the door. I am proud to say I did not panic, however, I turned to grab a Q-tip and when I turned back it disappeared!
Now I’m panicking. Naked. Nothing but a towel. My glasses are in the next room so I’m blind. I’m trying to scrutinize the floor for even the tiniest movement, but it and the floor are about the same color. Where tf did it go?!
UPDATE: I made it out of the bathroom, still have no idea what happened to it, but I’m out. Guys, I’m starting to think I created a vengeful spirit. That might be the Supernatural fan in me talking, but it’s been hours and there’s no sign of it.
Oh God you guys… What have I done?
Just as I was beginning to think that my arachnophobia was getting better, life had to serve me a big slice of humble pie…
I was at work (Pizza Hut), busy cutting pizzas that were to go to a high school for lunch. I’m barely cutting them faster than they’re spilling out of the oven. After they’re cut I need to slide them in their boxes and get those boxes into delivery bags. I’m on a good streak. I’ve got a good flow going, then it happened.
I flung open a box and as I was sliding a pizza inside my absolute most hated arachnid, the Daddy Longlegs, lost it’s absolute shit and scurried around the box! I screamed bloody murder (and may or may not have peed myself… [I did, but just a little]) and my boss and the new trainee I was training came running. I was pressed against a refrigeration unit just opposite the box when my boss came in. I made a lot of hand gestures and squealing and my boss looked at me as if I were having a seizure. Finally I managed to clearly say, “SPIDER IN THE FUCKING BOX!” Tactful, I know. My boss inspected, found the spider, then proceeded to GRAB IT WITH HIS HAND and kill it. He took a step towards me, to make sure I was ok, and I acted no better than the eight-legged little shit that freaked out on me. I ran away from him with the absolute fear of God gripping my chest.
That’s when I realized I kinda peed a little. We were all laughing, yes, even me because I knew just how ridiculous I was being, but y’all need to understand something; when I see someone has touched a spider with their bare flesh my brain reacts as if that person is now infected with a zombie-spider virus and if they touch me I will also be infected. I know, trust me I know, just how ridiculous that is, but in the moment I am not governed by logic.
It took my boss a couple minutes to reassure me the thing was dead and all was well. We threw away the pizza and I now had an oven on the brink of backing up. My trainee was watching me and noted that I jumped a little every time I opened a box.
I now walk among you, more humble than I was this morning and I will not underestimate the depravity of those eight-legged nightmares every again.
Nothing is sacred.
A baby step in the grand scheme of things, but a step in the right direction.
I don’t handle rejection/disappointment well. In fact I tend to avoid doing things because there’s always that possibility. It’s no way to live life, let me tell you.
Recently I had to deal with crushing disappointment. More than once, but one stood out above all others. I was supposed to go out with my best friend and her coworker/friend, I really needed that night to happen for several reasons, but her husband requested her presence at a function his coworker was having and she has a duty to her husband (plus he almost never goes to social events that aren’t her planning so this is a rare occurance thus strengthening her sense of duty to him). I understood and was not mad at her or even her husband, I was just mad at the situation and very disappointed.
I was hurt, but I began making inappropriate jokes (she totally fueled them). It started as a mask to hide my hurt, but it turned into something rather cathartic for me. I vented my frustrations through humor rather than lashing out (which is usually my first instinct when I’m hurt) and it totally worked. By time our conversation ended I felt better and had a rather enjoyable evening with my husband.
Humor doesn’t have to be a mask, it can be a release. A coping mechanism. Laughter is wonderful medicine.
I’m not able to afford professional treatment or medication. I’m forced to find alternative ways to keep myself sane. I’m prone to choosing harmful and unhealthy ways, but this time I feel like I’ve finally gotten something right.