I am sick of my drama, the drama that is my life. I hate talking about it to anyone really. Of course, everyone asks, “how are you?” “How’s life?” “What have you been up to?” Are you polite, or honest, or just vague? Most people get the polite lie, everything is good, just living life one day at a time. Some people, I feel I need to be honest with, life sucks, but I am being strong, relying on a benevolent God even as I start to question who It is. I am losing my strength though. I really want to fall apart. I really want to feel safe. I think someday I will be happier than ever. Someday, I will have all I could dream, and more, and even the biggest problems will be…easier? to deal with emotionally, than where I am now.
I was served a restraining order yesterday. I was told I am unsafe to care for my children after 25 years. In reality parenting concerns were only a minor issue. Jealousy, humiliation, lashing out in pain was the real source.
Haste, makes waste. Dialectical Behavioural Therapy was the first class I took when I started going back to therapy and the psychiatrist. Taking actions based on a weighed balance of logical and emotional thinking, does make one consider others as well as themselves. Weighing options, considering possible outcomes, makes me much slower to take many actions. I think this has helped me avoid the types of breakdowns I grew up having, and the breakdown I had eight years ago before my first affair helped get me on track.
As a child, the stress of how other people saw me and treated me, always puts much expectation on myself. I had to be good. I had to be smart. I had to be liked, loved, special even to anyone who had power in my life. Yes, I was the teachers pet, brown noser (though I tried to be more sincere than that sounds) most the time. I said, “as a child”, but really my whole life. Be good be good be good being good is the only reason people like you, pretend to love you, and most importantly TAKE CARE OF ME….all while thinking, knowing, hoping I could take care of myself (not to mention the seven children I so eagerly bore) but too afraid to find out.
So here I am, alone. With no one I can trust to talk to. No one I can feel comfortable, let alone safe around. Except Grandma’s cat…at least she didn’t wander far from the RV and will be here keeping me company all night, well what’s left of the night..
I took a muscle relaxer, I am smoking sativa (alien dawg I believe, if the label and the bud were still properly matched)…I should sleep good and hard and LATE. I LOOK FORWARD TO SLEEP….
We see a judge on Friday. And though the father of my children quickly regretted his legal action against me, though he found a loophole and made it legal for me to stay in the home with my kids, though he pretty much begged, with sadness and humility pouring forth, I left. I insisted he provide a place for me (tho I did find the courage to ask daddy to reimburse the family funds) and their father went even further saying his dreams are dieing so he will just give me the trailer basically and signed it over to me and said the money was mine…(because I was a bitch and through the 50/50 state thing back in his face like he kept telling me)…he was being kind. He says he does this, these kindnesses that lure me into a false security, because he cares and is such a good guy and so sorry…sometimes tho…I just think he is #lovebombing to protect his own insecurities. I think…well I can never say what I think because either I don’t trust my thoughts, or I don’t want to believe them.