Did you ever notice that when you’re not doing well and it feels like the world is collapsing around you, something even worse happens and you just want to crawl into a hole and die?
No? Just me? Okay.
I’m so exhausted that I’ve lost the will to fight.
I feel utterly alone because everyone around me either has their own shit or is part of the problem.
Don’t worry—I’m not going to hurt myself. But I am having a hell of a time finding a reason to live. The people who supposedly ‘need‘ me? No. What I bring to the table is more bad than good. They’d be better off without me. I would be better off without me.
You’re probably thinking, ‘damn, this bitch needs help!‘ and you wouldn’t be wrong. But I have help. It’s just not… helping. Not enough, anyway. I’ve had help in many forms at many times in my life, but it never truly changes anything. I don’t even want to dignify this topic with any more of my time.
This isn’t even really about me. It’s almost entirely not about me.
My kids are having some issues and I feel utterly powerless and helpless. And I also feel responsible. Everyone tells me I’m not, but I don’t believe them. And instead of making things better for my kids, I fear I’m making them worse. (See above, ‘What I bring to the table is more bad than good. They’d be better off without me.’)
I have been debating this post for a few weeks. I didn’t want to admit/acknowledge what’s going on with my kids because that makes it even more real. In case you didn’t already realize, I can’t bring myself to go into detail. It breaks me. And fuck knows I’m already broken. One more crack and I’ll turn to dust.
I hate that this has become about me in any way. I shouldn’t be thinking of how I feel. I should only be thinking of them. It’s just hard when this all affects me so deeply that I can’t breathe.
Tell me again how I’m of use to anyone? Right. I’m not.
“You’ve been the only thing that’s right…” —SP, 2004
p.s. — It’s not lost on me that I haven’t been around, and when I do show up, it’s like this. I would feel guilty if I had the will to do so. But… this is my place… my space. Maybe this is how I need to use it.
p.p.s. — In the moments when I am not completely closed off trying to build myself a nest of denial, I wish I had someone to talk to. But like I said in not so many words, I have no one. And I feel like asking for someone is selfish as fuck.
p.p.p.s. — Bless me father, for I have sinned. It has been four months since my last post. And even before that, I have never been to confession.