I’ve been lucky. Extremely, extremely, extremely lucky. I don’t want anyone to think for a minute that I’m ungrateful, self-centered or “emo”…even with all the horrible things that have happened….I’m lucky. So very lucky that it didn’t become worse when it could have. Still…and this makes me feel so horrible…so guilty when I’ve been so blessed and lucky despite it all…I feel destroyed. I’ve reached my limits. I’ve tried to draw out my anguish but my hands shake too bad. I don’t have a bucket in which I could carry and tune, and I stutter anyway so here I am…
I don’t really have any plan to what I’m going to write. I want to turn the faucet on so I can sleep. Because I can’t sleep. I want to write so I can stop crying. I want to throw up because I feel nauseous but I can’t. I have a head aches. It’s probably all stress-related but I…I need to do this. I need to semi-coherently scream my sorrow, depression and most importantly…the scathing wrath I’ve had building inside me. The aim of this post is really for me, and not for the handful of people who actually follow this blog. I hope that once I type all of this out and sink ALL my emotion into it I can be drained. I can sleep. This probably will be confusing and may appear to jump from subject to subject because my brain is “slamming into” one panicked thought after another. You probably won’t know who I’m talking about and that’s fine. As I said, it’s for me. It’s an attempt at therapy FOR ME during the most difficult time of my life that I can remember. This is for me. Not you. Not them. Me. I am going to pour my heart out and drain myself until I’m raw. I’m going to type until I can’t think of anything to say. It may be full of rage, hate and pain but I’m sure those that follow me know my temperament a bit better than that…
*deep breath* So here we go.
Say something honest to me. I fucking dare you but you’d choke on your own tongue. Like a snake you slither and hide until you can strike. You want to tear me down and take me away from him. You try to tarnish me in his eyes. I sympathize with you because of your tragedy but I don’t like you. I don’t love you. I refuse to consider you family. I’ve tried and tried but it will never be good enough for you. You drunkenly told him that he could do better and if I ever PROVED HER WRONG she would apologize. Really? Fuck you. I don’t have to prove shit to you and when we ARE successful, and we will be, I don’t want your apology. I’ll accept it but I don’t want it. I’ll nod but I won’t say a damn thing…because if I do I’ll laugh and laugh and laugh and well, that’s not exactly mature so I’d rather not have to do that. So if you have a change of heart just eat your own words. I won’t lie, that really hurt and even though I found out weeks ago I’m still fuming and I hate myself for letting her get to me when I know exactly what they all are. Well, you know what? YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ME OR FOR YOUR BROTHER. I wanted to. I tried. I kept putting myself out there. You two faced bitch. You idiot. You poor, sorrowful creature. You have my pity but not my love. That is the best you’ll get from me. I wanted to be there for you. To BE that family…instead you…
I had explained it to you all. I can’t help it. You knew what happened. I tried to teach you. But like any time you mention anything related to learning in that family they balk. Trying to present yourself as an intelligent woman = know it all. It’s not my fault we don’t have the same interests. That shouldn’t matter in your treatment of me. I’m not a Christian. I’m not a Republican. Fuck you. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. I’M NOT A CHRISTIAN. I’M NOT A REPUBLICAN. YOU BRING SHAME TO YOUR OWN RELIGION because of your judgmental BEHAVIOR YOU STUPID FUCKS. People like you are the reason why more and more people don’t want to have anything to do with main stream religion. People like you are why I left church and eventually Christianity all together to find my own spiritual path. You don’t research the things you hate. You. Just. Hate. You’re toxic and it’s no wonder I’ve had to protect him from you. Did you know that? Does he?! It doesn’t matter. I’ve spent three years trying to undo all the damage you’ve done to him over his life. Do you even know how much he suffered? Do you even care? Do you even KNOW? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW?!?!?! ANYTHING AT ALL?!?!
If you ever fucking ask Nick when the school opens, or ME, I will fucking do….probably nothing. That’s the worst part with me. My first instinct is to always be nice until they corner me. Then I start to heavily consider going Celt mode. I never do. I want to. I want to unleash it once in my life…but people who do that are unstable. Get arrested. Can’t keep a job. Can’t keep the people you love around. I don’t want that. You know what every single one of your kids have told me? They want to get away from you. They want to be far away from you. AND I’M THE PROBLEM FOR DATING YOUR SON?! You know what? I see your point about the job thing. I was unemployed too long. It wasn’t from lack of trying though. Perhaps because you’ve worked at your job forever and ever you forgot what it’s like to search for a job. Especially in our economy. You got your job while the economy was strong, didn’t you? Even if I was some big loser that didn’t think she had to work (which is what you think) but you never even TRIED to get to know me. Instead you mocked me for “considering myself an intellectual”…oh how you hurt me. I’ve tried so hard to make myself believe I had a decent intellect. I realized in that moment that this is how you ruined your son’s childhood. That this is why I have to encourage him to believe that he has a brain in his head. My hurt turned into this furious resentment. THIS is how you operate. No wonder his sisters act exactly the same fucking way…from my experience anyway. He’d obvious know you guys better than me. I know more than I want to though. I’ve always believed that when you date someone you’re also “dating” their family. If you marry them, you marry their family. Family is included. This is the first time I’ve had a boyfriend that absolutely and utterly wanted nothing to do with them. He said he wants to change his number, get a different car and move and not tell them where (of course it would be in the same area because of my business)….and I actually, albeit feebly, tried to persuade him otherwise. Even though I agreed with him. I just didn’t want to be the reason why he finally left his family behind. You’d all blame me anyway, even though I have always said I didn’t want to influence his decision at all. That it was HIS family not mine. That it was HIS decision and I’d stand by him with whatever he chose. Guess what? You’ll blame me anyway though. You’ll blame me for anything bad that happens in your family from now on. None of your other relatives will give me a chance now because you’ve trashed me as a person without even bothering to get to KNOW the person. For this reason I think you have the maturity level of a high school girl.
I fucking told you. I begged you to listen. You were just on the war path. I was the logical one for everyone to take their grief-malice on. I’m the one they never wanted part of the family in the first place. I had a seizure two days before and when the suicide happened…well, as I had tried to explain to you for FUCKING YEARS you’re not in your right mind for a bit after a seizure. You abused me because I wasn’t coherent enough to grasp it yet. You. Abused. Me. All of you. You fucking pieces of shit. You’re a hypocrite of your own religion and I laugh at you scornfully. I stay angry because I can’t DO anything but ignore it. I don’t ignore shit…I find it super hard. I find it hard to let go and that’s a huge problem with me. I’m trying to fix it. I get impatient waiting for karma. I want to “fix” my own problems by finally saying my piece and disappearing forever. It’s no wonder there was a semi-child suicide attempt at six years old from one of your children. Did you even know? Can you even comprehend the damage that you’ve done to all three? I’ve spent the entire relationship trying to build him into a person confident in himself. He had NO SELF WORTH before he met me, did you know that? Do you know how long it takes to BUILD self confidence? A fucking life time. It takes little to destroy it. You bitch. You fucking bitch. You shouldn’t have even had children if you couldn’t even handle yourself. Luckily for me though, you did. And you know what? He’s fucking awesome. You must have done something right and he and I did the rest. Now I’M the fucked up one. That one is on me though. I LET you get under my skin. I LET it become personal. I was the one that told you, even in my post seizure shock state that after all that has happened in so short a time I have no interest in joining your family. The was the first time I wasn’t desperately trying to gain all your approvals when you should have been trying to earn MINE…but I’m not as judgmental as you. I hadn’t judged you until you judged me. I was easy going, friendly and interested. You took one look at me and all your mouths turned down in disgust and your dad looked like he wanted to vomit. It took me THREE YEARS to push me to this point. It took me THREE YEARS to…hate you. I don’t know if I throw the whole definition of the word ‘hate’ into it but I don’t like you. I don’t love you. I’d avoid you if I could. I don’t wish ill upon you but I never want to see you again. Which is impossible since I’m with your son and will be forever. We’ll have children someday. He and I have agreed that being a grandmother is a right you have to earn. If you don’t treat me with respect you’re out. If you undermine either of us as parents, you’re out. You insult Nick or my mother or anyone else I love and you’re out. The choice is yours. It was HIS idea btw, not mine. Isn’t that amazing? I would NEVER ask him to choose me over you guys. I couldn’t imagine feeling that way towards a parent and YOU EARNED IT. Gratz, mang.
I think you know all this. You need help. Speaking of help, what about me?! I need so much fucking help right now.
Suicide grieving “in-laws” and subject to their disgust for not being like them.
Five moves as of this coming weekend.
Only enough money for SEIZURE meds, not the ones that help to balance the side effects. I’ve been self medicating my epilepsy (along with the prescribed meds) with marijuana. It’s the only thing that eases the constant pressure I feel in my temples because of epilepsy. It’s what keeps the panic attacks and tears away. It’s what quells the rage…and I don’t have it now. I feel like someone who was buried alive and some-crazy-how dug myself out to the surface. I stick my face through and gasp for air just so I can let out a scream. I want to thrash and claw and just…grieve…but I can’t get my arms out. “HELP ME” I mouth and twist my mouth in a silent scream. My trifecta wants to help me and I rely on them heavily but it was almost irreparably damaged and now…I fear so am I. I consider Una to be basically my only IRL friend for the most part. I mean, I HAVE THEM, but none of them are as constant as Una. She got hit by a car. My mom saw it. I heard her scream her and I froze. She screamed again “UNA GOT HIT BY A CAR!”
‘No.’ I thought as I sprinted across the gravel on bare feet. I didn’t really feel it. My eyes were locked on Una thrashing around on the road like a fish on a line. I ran out into traffic and stuck out my hand in a “STOP” motion and later my mom said something like I struck quite a “strong” warrior-woman-esque control of someplace where people go 30mph or more over the speed limit on average. Animals get killed all the time. It wasn’t how I felt. I was terrified for her, I didn’t even care about me. “Hit us both” I thought when I ran out there. Irrational, I know. It couldn’t be Una. Not Una. Please God, no. Not her. Me. I’ll do anything. Just save her. I don’t care what it is, I’ll pay it willingly. Just save her. Save her. Please God, dad, ancestors…anyone…HELP ME. HELP HER! HELPHELPEHELPEHELP! My prayers were answered. She runs around and plays and you’d never guess that she got hit by a car. In fact, we think maybe she wasn’t hit after all, perhaps sucked in and that’s where most of the injuries came from.
I got her to the side of the road and the blood streamed from her mouth. Splashing my arms, legs and shirt red. I didn’t know it then, because she wouldn’t open her mouth, but it came from two deep bites to her tongue. When you see that much blood though…I get flash backs and panic attacks and I’m trying but I just had to take a break from writing this for a few minutes because I started sobbing and hyperventilating. Something I’ve been unsuccessfully trying to fix. Here is what I normally see/hear:
My mom screaming Una’s name
Una thrashing about
The blood on my arms
Her convulsing with her blood foaming a little at her mouth
Pressing my bloody hand against the window to scream and curse the chollos who wouldn’t let us pass and laughed when I showed them how much blood I had. They laughed at me. I could have killed. I didn’t know I could feel that much anger and hate. People say “I could have killed so-and-so” offhandedly to express anger but I meant it. I’ve never intentionally hurt anyone and I wanted to KILL them and it felt JUSTIFIED to me, and that’s what was horrible. I don’t condone at all what welled up inside me. I can’t imagine feeling that way again but apparently I’m very protective. I mean, if we weren’t in cars, and if I had tried, I would have been DESTROYED but shoving my blood be-speckled arms down their throats and making them choke on her blood was all I could think about. It was so scary. So…not right. I never, ever want to feel that way again. I guess it’s a normal feeling but I’m unfamiliar with it. I’ve been angry but never violent. I’m not a violent person at all. I know how to defend myself but I’ve never tried to kick anyone’s ass or anything. I don’t even know if defending myself would work. They still laughed. I finally understood what “blood rage” and “blood fury” felt like. It was pure animalism. It was only the car and my focus on getting Una care that brought me back to the present.
The owner of the two dogs across the way that taunts other dogs into the streets. Not to get them hit of course, just dog stuff. The owner used to have bushes in front of the fence but he cut them down. Now his dogs taunt other dogs. That’s how Una was hit. When I crouched over Una on the side of the road I looked up because I felt someone watching me and I made eye contact with him. I stared at him for a moment. I don’t know what my expression was. Probably just horror and emotional agony. I looked down again and when I looked up however much time it was later he was gone.
The little chihuahua that was brought into the ER that couldn’t be saved. It’s cries of agony and the keening of the family who lost their family member. I jammed my fingers in my ears and curled up into a seated fetal position and tried to pretend like I couldn’t here it. A little girl saying ‘IT WAS MY FAULT’ The screaming and the keening. Too much. I’m very compassionate and my empathy usually works against me. I find it very easy to “feel” what others are feeling. I almost feel like some sort of conduit. I suck it up but there isn’t anywhere to send it to. A broken conduit perhaps. I cried as much for their dog as for my own dog, but God spared Una and gave her her every quality of life back that she had before. I am so thankful and so blessed…but these images won’t go away.
A few days ago a dog was hit and killed in the EXACT SAME SPOT Una was hit in. This one was killed. We saw him dead on the side of the road as we pulled in. I sucked in a breath and my hands went to my mouth and my eyes felt glued to the poor dog. He lay in a position similar to Una’s on that horrible day. Both dogs were in the car with us when we saw him. Una gave him a very, very long look. I think she put the two together. My eyes are locked on his creamy white fur, his sweet face. It’s like the world froze and I was stuck in that heart wrenching moment with Una. Too much. I heard my mom say ‘Oh my God…Zoë, I’m so sorry’ Hearing my name brought me back. “Get me inside. I need to get inside right now. I need to go inside.” She parks and I get the dogs inside and just…I don’t really remember what happened. I think I threw my arms around Una and cried until she freaked and pulled away because she didn’t understand why I was acting so explosive. Left with my arms empty I was reminded of the people that helped me and Una. The dog was dead but I could do SOMETHING. Mom said I shouldn’t go out and look at him again so she went to go see if he had tags. He didn’t. Not even a collar. So I called a vet ER and asked what I should do. The receptionist asked for a description of the dog incase the family called looking for him. They said I should call animal control so I called the county and they sent someone down here to take him away. When he was gone I started sobbing again. WHY? WHY DID WE HAVE TO STAY ON THIS ROAD WITH NO GATE TO CLOSE?! WHY ARE WE SO POOR WE HAVE TO LIVE IN A TRAILER ON A BUSINESS (well drilling) LOT?!
My dad died. We had been semi-estranged for my entire life. Not that I hadn’t tried. I always called on Christmas and his birthday when I was little. By the time I met him again when I was 17 I was done with needing a father. I had moved on from my daddy-wasn’t-there pain and it was replaced with indifference. Which I think hurt him worse than if I had hated him. I wasn’t as indifferent as I thought. He was closed up and on meth and I was sensitive, unsure and found him complicated. He tried…I know he did now. All those random gifts of dolphins (based on a photo of me posing with a dolphin. It was my sweet 16 gift from my mom and grandmother back in the day) and he thought they were my favorite animal and I was just buried under all this dolphin memorabilia. I thought he was trying to buy my love and resented him for it…it hurt me. He didn’t even ASK what my favorite animal was (sea turtle), he COULDN’T ask…I understand now. He didn’t know how to approach or handle me. I was his daughter but I was a stranger as well. He hadn’t seen me since I was 10. I understand him better now and I realize now I didn’t understand at ALL as a teenager. I was young, too young to realize when time is short. We lost so much time because I was aloof. I’m sorry daddy, I’m so, so, so sorry. All I ever wanted was a dad and by the time you were going to be one I was done. I am so, so sorry. I made lunch plans with you and the next week you died. I wanted to make it right. At least I got to tell you I loved you. I think you know now. I think you know I always loved you.
I need help. Can’t afford help. It all hurts so much. The flash backs and shit won’t stop. I’ve been trying different ways to try and quell them. “Una is good now. She’s alive AND she’s happy and loves to play. She can still jump over a nearly five foot mini “wall” of cinderblocks when we play fetch. She still happily begs for whatever I’m eating. Her breath no longer reeks of blood and flesh I am so incredibly lucky and so is she. I honestly don’t think I’d have kept my sanity if she had died in that way. I would have slit my wrists (up the river, not the across, fuck attention) before anyone could react. In my crazy state I actually CONSIDERED IT AN OPTION. My brain was just like ‘Okay, we’re done here. No more.’ but she lived, so I could as well and I want to continue to live. I’m just in such a damaged state right now I can’t handle more. Anything upsets me now. I mean like, a story on the news and it inflames my emotions. I see something beautiful I cry. I see something painful, I cry. I just cry. And hyperventilate with my hands clamped over my mouth and nose to try and cover up the sounds of my haggard gasping. I feel insane. I know I’m not…I just have…PTSD….I mean, I had it before from other traumas but I’ve never had flash backs ever and the panic attacks were nothing like these. I feel like my brain/body is trying to kill me and the essence that is me has very little say in it initially. You fight or you die. That is life. In a thousand different scenarios it comes down to fighting, dying or running. I’m not allowed to run. You can’t run from yourself. You’re stuck with you. My trifecta is still alive and healthy on all points so I have something to live for still. I’m crippled by fear and paranoia now. If I don’t see her for a set amount of time I immediately go look for her even if she’s only in the next room and I know that. I won’t let her be outside alone. If she’s out of my sight for more than five seconds outside I start to freak and start calling her name. She’s always happy to oblige but when I call she thinks it’s time to go inside even though I wanted her to stay outside until she was ready to come inside. I just wanted to be able to see her.
Throughout the entire thing my mother and Nick have been so wonderful and supportive. I wouldn’t be able to do ANYTHING let alone save Una if it wasn’t for them. Even though they did already, they have my undying love, gratitude and friendship.
So…this is all done now. I had…jeeze, I think it was four hyperventilating fits and pretty much constant tears while I wrote this. I shivered a lot even though I’m not cold. That happens all the time now. My nerves are frayed and I long for a sanctuary. Here is the closest I’ve had in two years, and once I’m inside I’m comfortable…but it’s not my crystal cave, you know? I want me, mom, Nick and Una to be safe and happy. I want us to build a family that will support and uplift each other. I want to build the life all of us deserve.