I'm not even sure what to say now. No one gets it. No one understands. They see the mask I wear to cover my despair. No matter how I try to explain it, it doesn't matter. I can't take care of myself and I'm just a burden. My psychiatrist just wants to medicate me, my therapist has become a judge. I'm too forgiving. I wear my heart on my sleeve. She disparages my efforts while trying to be helpful. And the cycle goes on.
The boyfriend has become distant as he has his own life and manusha to deal with. He made me feel good about myself and treated me better than I probably deserve. He did and said all the things I dreamed about wanting in a man. Poof. Gone (not entirely but not here today. The litigation with the separation wages on and the costs are way beyond my means and ability. I'm tired of fighting for a life I will never have.
Things have been good at times. I've documented it here with you dear reader. Again, part of the cycle. Some days I'm a responsible adult. Most days I feel like a lost and lonely young teen, making poor decisions and believing things can get better. If my life id sny indicator, My finances, for once, seem almost stable until I make a stupid decision. My entitlement issues, a lifetime of them, always get the better of me. I got my hair done yesterday for the first time in years. I had colored and trimmed it myself. I feel like I'm at the bottom of a muddy hole. Once I get a foothold or grasp a root, the mud gives way and I slide right back down. There I lay, covered in mud, cold and alone. I know I have some intrinsic value, I just don't know what it is.
My life is fragmented and like a hamster on his wheel, I spin my wheels and get nowhere. No one loves me, not really. I could be in bad relationships and let my self-loathing blossom, or I can be alone. I'm alone very often as I have written, taking myself out, in the hopes of meeting a new friend or finding a new opportunity. I try to be hopeful but am too often disappointed. People tell me 'life is what you make it' and 'put what you want out into the universe and it will happen'. Seriously, what a fucking crock of shit. When you have the simplest of dreams, an invisible illness can kill those dreams. No little house with a nice little kitchen to host holiday dinners, no gardens to tend to, no friends to come calling. I aspired to it, almost had it and was almost within my grasp and like any illusion, it was over and gone. I have to give up those dreams.
I'm a basement-dweller. Making the choices that seem logical and good because I was promised a different life full of love, happiness and laughter, even with this insidious curse. I ask for help and it never comes. I live in basements to try to help the kind soul offering me shelter something in exchange, hoping my presence will be a positive. Good intentioned people want to help then don't follow through. How can even my lowest expectations still be too high? There is a child psychology theory that is applicable to many adults. Negative attention is better than no attention. So what's the outcome? Be alone, maintaining my values and ideals and waiting for something/one to share my life with? I see others living lies yet appearing happier and getting more from life that I could dream of, even if they are in a not-so-healthy relationship? Or being part of the group? I compromised my values and look where I am. Will I ever learn? Old habits die hard.
Two songs are speaking to me today. Perfect Day by the Constellations and Lost Cause by Beck. Even a live feed from my band on Vyrt streaming and acoustic set didn't help.
My anxiety meds have stopped the water works for now. I want to sleep but it constantly eludes me. I'm working on the website but Blogger isn't rolling over to it as I had feared. So a manual move or Divine intervention in the way of a tech savvy webmaster are the only ways to get this going. As for this moment, I at least need to rest awhile. I'm still not sure how many you are dear reader, I hope you are still with me. Flares are a recurring pain (yeah a bad pun). I'm also trying to figure out a new phone (from iPhone to Android no less). I wish I could afford an iPhone 6, but I'm sure I will have to settle for the 5s. I need a Samsung course to work this damn thing. Getting older and the fibro-depleting cognitive issues and preventing pretty much everything, from working on my disability case to organizing to doing laundry.
Oh well, everything will still be there tomorrow, waiting for me. I do want to say that I love you dear reader, really. I began this blog as way assist #spoonies like me to be able to articulate their experience and feelings to their support system or for the support people to read and hopefully get more insight (even if it is a skewed one). Help me circulate my blog if you would, while I keep working on the better pages. I don't even have the wherewithal to schedule tweets today. And I thank you and the people who do help me, accepting me with an illness when no one else will. You are my true treasures.
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