In a few weeks there's a Neil Diamond tribute guy, and I'm gonna go with my mom.
Also, the Fenians, who I had seen a few times in my youth at The Harp (Ed, I know you're dying!!). So at least there's two things I'm gonna be sure to do- cause they are not too far, and they are Free and outside and I can even bring the kids if I must.
I insist on enjoying myself this summer, cause all I wanna to right now is get in a car and drive.... like forever.
Sadly, I guess it's time to go back on the meds. I was hoping that perhaps I didn't need them- but after two weeks and they are out of my system, well today hit me like a ton of bricks. I put together the NY pictures and talked to one of my co-workers about my trip- and just burst into tears, for like an hour!! It's hard to explain, but being home feels like torture to me right now. I know it's a phase. You know that life you thought you were gonna have, way before you even knew what life WAS? It's kinda like that. I just sorta fell in love with the idea of living a life that is different than mine. I don't mean I wish I didn't have my kids- if you know me at all- I don't have to explain it to you.
I was hoping I could live off of a new found energy, rather than quieting myself with the pills- but I guess I can't. The new found energy just makes me restless, cause it's the same old life that takes a different kind of energy. I'm not gonna complain about it- it is what it is. Shortly after I came home the e-husband pulled some old school bullshit that almost sent him packing. I think it was that event that sent me really reeling back a few years in the past and once again feeling angry and terrified that my decisions are nothing but irreparable mistakes.
From Nov 2005.
I wonder if this cycle will ever end with him and me. We have become the perfect working example of co-dependency. He has to rely on me and I resent him for it- but I don't let him loose enough to do anything for himself. He resents me for essentially rendering him "permanently failed" and I resent him for continuting to fail. And all along, I can pat myself on the back and say that I did my best. It's sickening. I hate that I have perpetuated this cycle for so long and that all my feelings of self worth stem from how he feels about me. I want him to move out. But I still want him to be grateful and acknowledge that I did the best I could. Pat me on the back, and then go. Yeah, I'm not sick or anything...
And I know, like it or not, that the main reason I'm angry is because I could not help him. My love could not solve this problem for him. Being with me was not enough to encourage him to want to get better. I know that it's not realistic, and maybe even selfish and ego-driven to think that I could beat his disease. But I feel that he never tried. I was not even worth it enough for him to TRY. Not even try... I can hear my sponsors voice, and even my last shrink. It's not your fault, it's not your fault, It's Not Your Fault, IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT. I know this. I say it in my head, out loud, to my friends, to God. I know that it's not my fault. But somewhere deep inside, I hear it. It's your fault. I can't shut it off sometimes. You were not good enough. You were not worth it to him. Face it, sister- it's all your fault.
Yeah, fuck all. I'm gonna need those meds but at least I will have somewhere to go.
No comments:
Post a Comment