Because that'd mean, if all went well, I'd only live another 29 years. I'm not ready for that.
I know my last post was supposed to be me taking a break but honestly writing things out seems to help. Though with comments like the break post got I'm not sure exactly how to take it. I'm in a fragile state right now folks, be kind or be quiet. Please.
Not to worry, dear friends, there's nothing too completely serious going on. No thoughts of drinking or drugging, no harm to myself or family. I'm just hurting. I'm just not sure why.
I had a little epiphany today that this might be a culmination of the past two years coming to find me all at once. For just about all of 2008 and 2009 Rob was gone. He was on various training missions in and out of the state sometimes for weeks at a time before the 400 day deployment to Iraq came fall of 2008. During that time I got pregnant, moved, and had a baby. I soothed every boo-boo, got up at every late night call, dealt with every illness in both the kids and myself. I organized every shopping trip, outing and OBGYN appointment and took every kid with me every time. I had no sitter or family member that could or would watch them. Hell, I was a mess not knowing who'd be taking the kids when I went in labor with Max, up until the moment they were picked up. I homeschooled my first compulsory aged kid through an entire grade. I paid every bill, dealt with every financial issue, had the car break down on me twice while I was out with the kids. I was in a rear end collision which ended up in months of treatment for me (thank goodness the kids weren't in the car). I'm still dealing with pain from that. Emmy fell and I thought she was brain damanged. Forever. My mother got remarried which is a whole other mess. I reconnected with some of my family. Emotional turmoil was strongly attached to those last three things.
I stuck my head up and trudge through it. Alone. I did my best and I'm finding that might not have been good enough. Maybe I just expected more from myself. I'm not saying this all crashed down on me the moment my love stepped off the plane onto US soil. No. I had depressive states before that too. I think it was easier to hide without another adult in the house.
I almost made a very big, very bad mistake a few months ago. I almost asked Rob for a divorce. Yeah, it was that bad. Not our marriage or anything, but me. Truth be told, Rob's never really done anything other than be a little caustic and highstrung at times. So can I.
I'm working on a new story. I've gotten good feedback from others on my writing. Though they've been friends, which might make them baised. I like writing. I think it helps. The new story though is challenging for me. Not because its detailed fantastical world is complex but because what I'm writing is the truth. The pain of my past is getting put down on paper. This is something I've rolled around in my head for awhile. I'm sure to piss people off if I ever let anyone else read it. I think that's what I need. No, not the pissing off of family, I mean letting others see. Knowing that all this shit that still at times pains me, is out there. Other people know.
Sometimes I feel so false, fake. Putting on the exterior of a completely pulled together person that has an innoculous past and a usual childhood. I don't. I don't mind putting myself out there like that, showing the harsh realities of my life. The things I still deal with daily even if it's not as apparent as what's happening right now.
So here it will go. On paper. In print. Perhaps, laying it out there for others to see will help get it out of me. I'm going to try. I'll be resuming blog posts from here on out. I'll try to only be a complete downer when I truly only need to be. It's a life. It's being lived. It's not all fun and games, folks. Some of us have a hard time looking on the bright side. For those of you like me, maybe I can be an inspiration. Maybe we can get through this together.