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.


My Weakness and My Strength

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 Think I’m Finally Figuring It Out

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.

Something You Should Know About Me Before You Judge Me

First and foremost, I love my husband and my children. Second, what I say here may paint my husband in a bad light, but it is not my intention. My husband is a good man, but he is human and makes mistakes. His good intentions can be misguided at times, but he is a good man and he cares very deeply about our kids and myself. 

That being said, I need to vent about the fact that I’m being judged for my short temper with my three kids that I chose to have. 

Growing up I made the decision that I never wanted to have kids. I am the oldest of five kids, nearly eight years older than the second born, and I learned very quickly that motherhood is not for me. I’m not patient enough. Screaming and crying children make my skin crawl. 

When I became pregnant with my first child, my daughter, my husband (then fiancĂ©) and I were practicing safe sex, but the condom broke. I was 21. 

Before I became pregnant with my second child, my first son, my husband pressured me into having another child. He and I weren’t doing so well in our relationship, but he and I had talked in the past about children and I had (foolishly) mentioned to him that if I ever had kids I would not want an only child or a middle child. My husband used my past words against me and bullied me into having another kid. It didn’t take long before I became pregnant. I was 24. 

Immediately after giving birth to my son I was fighting doctors to get my tubes tied. No one wanted to do it because I was under 30, I “only” had two kids, and my pregnancies weren’t high risk. I told my husband I was not comfortable having sex until I was on some kind of birth control. Well, he and I were still rocky, becoming evermore distant, sex was our only form of intimacy, and so I felt pressured and obligated to fulfill my wifely duties. As a result,  despite (yet again) having protected sex, when my son was only six months old I became pregnant with my third child, second son. I was 26. 

I could have “chosen” abortion, but it is not the kids’ fault I didn’t have enough of a spine to stand up for myself. For me, abortion is not an option. I would not want to put myself through the psychological turmoil I am 99.9% positive I would go through. 

The fact of the matter is I know I’m not a good mother, I know I lack a lot of things, but being told I “should have thought of that before having kids” will make me want to be a very violent person. Because the fact of the matter is I did think about these things before having kids. I tried to prevent having children, but life has a funny way of fucking you over. 

I get so angry and ashamed for being able to easily become pregnant when I deserve to be sterile because of all the wonderful women who should be able and deserve to be able to have children. I become angry and ashamed when I take for granted the thing they desire most. It’s not fair. It’s not right. I wish I could change it. 

Part of my worst struggle is knowing I’m no good for my kids, but I can’t stand the thought of living without them. I hope one day they will understand I’ve always loved them, I’m just not good at being a good mother. 

Anxiety and its Complications

Having anxiety sucks. Managing it is exhausting and it often gets in the way of what would normally be a simple task. 

For example, I donate plasma regularly, however my anxiety makes it difficult because it sends my pulse racing for no reason and when I get my vitals taken my pulse is too high so I’m unable to donate that day. I feel a lot of weight on my shoulders when it comes to donating because sometimes the money I get from it is our next meal or diapers for my sons. If I can’t get it then we’re jumping through hoops and sacrificing that much more. 

Anxiety also makes being in public difficult. Large crowds, close proximity to strangers…no thanks. I’d rather stay home, in my pjs, talking to people on the Internet. I once left a coffee shop because a male stranger made polite  conversation with me. He wasn’t threatening in any way, but it was later in the evening and I was alone and everything began feeling sinister and I high-tailed it out of there ASAP. 

My anxiety has me expecting the worst possible scenario during the most mundane activities. I long to get away from my kids for just a few hours to enjoy a nice coffee shoppe or something new, but I can’t even enjoy myself because almost the instant I leave I envision the worst happening to my kids. Then when I come home and see everything is totally fine I get so mad because I couldn’t actually enjoy my time away and I more than likely cut my trip short for no reason. 

Anxiety can also manifest itself as a copious amount of energy. Last week at work I worked a double shift and inbetween my scheduled shifts I tried to donate. It didn’t work. When I returned to work I was moving and speaking quickly and acting kinda goofy, joking around more than usual and just being not quite my normal self. This may not sound like a problem, but I felt as though I was not in control of myself. I felt off balance and jumpy. I said some things (not mean things, just stuff not appropriate for the work place) and after I said them I seemed fine on the outside, laughing and brushing it off like no big deal, but inside I was screaming in terror, beating myself up for my stupidity, but it was like I was watching myself from the outside and unable to do anything to stop myself. 

It may seem like I was just having a good time, but when you’re not in control of yourself it’s a nightmare. 

Anxiety has kept me indoors and isolated. It is a constant battle and I believe it is the reason I’m always tired regardless of how much sleep I get.