So tired

I am not talking about physically tired- though I guess I am that too- I am talking about a weariness that has settled deep into my soul.  A bone crushing exhaustion that comes from years of fighting.

I am tired of everything always being so hard.   I understand we all have our crosses to bear, our difficulties to get through, but anyone who knows us can and will tell you that we have had more than our fair share.  We have had to fight and jump hurdles for the past 20+ years.  My dad said tonight (when I told him hubby was denied disability and now we have to hire a lawyer) that we are going to get tired of jumping over hurdles.  My response to him was “Dad, I am already tired of jumping over hurdles I am crawling under them”

I have spent most of the week oscillating between angry/irritated and sad, not just sad, I don’t even know what the word is.  That word that means that everything and anything can make you cry.  I used to never cry, now I cry every single day.  It can be a song, it can be the way someone says something to me, it can be anything at all.  I am so tired of being so unhappy all the time.

Will it ever get better, because from this vantage point, I don’t feel like it will ever get any better- ever….


People in Poverty: A part of the general population of a given area, who do not have adequate resources to live fully independent lives.  These people tend to need help in the areas of Food, Healthcare, Education and sometimes even cash benefits (as in TANF-Temporary Aid for Needy Families).  Also a part of the general population that many people discriminate against, make unjust assumptions about, and have attitudes that cause those in a state of poverty shame.

This was my definition.  I didn’t look it up.  I spoke from my heart and my experience. My family is poor.  Am I ashamed to say that? A little. Am I ashamed when I pull out my electronic benefits card (EBT- not sure what the T stands for) to pay for purchases of food, or other things because we collect TANF?  Yes.

I am mentally ill.  You all know that.  I have recently added personality disorder to my ever growing list of mental ailments.  So that would be major depressive disorder, severe, recurrent, treatment resistant; OCD; PTSD; Trauma; Severe Generalized anxiety disorder. I can not work. There are days I can’t leave my house.

My husband is sick.  Do we know exactly what’s wrong with him? No. He has seen so many doctor’s but it always ends up the same, herniated disc at L5S1, some sort of cyst on his S2 vertebra, desiccation of the L4 disc. Fibromyalgia, migraine headaches, major depressive disorder, and I can’t remember the rest of the list. But it’s long.

My husband first became sick in Oct 2013.  He continued to get worse until June of 2014, when he was working at a car dealership as a mechanic and almost dropped a mustang off the lift.  It was at that point he realized he shouldn’t be working.  His exhaustion and pain were too intolerable. He went out on short term disability, and eventually lost his job.

We looked at the bright side of it, and he started his own business in January 2015, and tried really hard to run it all alone for 2 years 2 months.  He was successful, turning a profit each of those years, however, the pain and exhaustion worsened, the depression at his situation worsened, he herniated the disc, and in March of 2017 decided he couldn’t keep up and he closed the business.  This was a blow to us.  Financially of course, but also emotionally.  I still tear up when I drive by the place, or think about the stack of business cards he has.

Today he went to see a new rheumatologist.  She was rude, condescending, unaware of his medical history, and made snap assumptions.  Just because she never received a copy of his two most recent MRIs she basically told him he was a liar.  She told him that “chronic pain” is subjective and he should go back to work, and work through the pain.  This all within minutes of meeting him.  He feels she looked that he was on medicaid, and out of work and therefore poor and lazy.  She said he doesn’t have fibromyalgia despite the fact that she didn’t even examine him or do the pressure point test.  Despite 4 other doctors diagnosing him with fibromyalgia.

To say I was angry about this appointment is an understatement.  But there isn’t anything I can do about it.  There is nothing he can do about it.  I am so sick of the rhetoric that vilifies the poor.  We are not all lazy, free-loaders.  Some of us are fighting physical or mental battles that you can’t see.  You all know what they say about assumptions….

We are still waiting on the decision for disability.  We’ve been waiting for almost a year. I know this can be a long process, but after today’s visit we are discouraged and just want this all over.

I know I have said it before, and probably a lot lately, but this is not the life we planned for.  Not the life we imagined when we were two young starry-eye kids planning their future. Never did we think we would be poor, we didn’t imagine to both be disabled in one way or another, we didn’t imagine so many things.

We are trying to adapt, to find new dreams, but it’s hard in the face of the adversities we have encountered.  We are trying to just trust in God and His perfect plan.  But when you are kicked repeatedly and you are already down, it takes it’s toll.

And for me that looks like indulging in one of my three compulsions- self harm, spending money we don’t have or compulsively eating.  Today my drug of choice was self harm.  The insides of my lower arm are carved up.  Im not sure why physical pain helps when I am hurting so badly, but it does, for a little while. And now a several hours later, the anger has subsided some, but a deep rooted, soul-crushing sadness has overcome me. I wish that we would catch a break, we need it.

A Year Already?

Yesterday when after I posted about the book, I saw the archived posts link on my front page, and I saw January 2017, my first thought was no way, I started this thing a year ago? And I clicked on it, and to my surprise yes- it had been a year today since I started this blog.

There hasn’t been much change in me in a year.  But I don’t know if I should expect there to be. It’s taken almost 40 years to get to this point, I can’t expect that in a short year I can undo all the damage that has been done.

My family has seen some changes- my husband closed his business and is unable to work, I stopped homeschooling and both of my kids are in public school and doing well.

But I have found a voice.  A place where I can lay it all out.  Sure I hide behind the screen.  I haven’t shared my name, or where I am from.  And only a few people I know in real life read this blog.

Well happy blogversary to me!


Memories- Things that sometimes remind me how lucky I am to have the life I have, problems and all.

I said a while back my goal for this year was to read 52 books. I am a little behind where I should be to meet my goal, but I am not really too concerned.

Today I finished Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell.  I cried at the end.  Holding back the ugly cry as best as I could because my little one was here and she always gets upset when I cry.  And I can’t honestly tell which tears were tears of sadness at the book, tears of happiness for how lucky I got, or tears of relief for the fact that I… that I got my cake and can eat it too.

Eleanor and Park is a book I assume set back in the 1980’s given the references they use and the words like “Walkman”, “mix tapes”, and so many other references .  Without spoiling the book for anyone who might want to check it out, Eleanor is a girl round the age of 16.  She lives in a house with her 4 siblings, her mom and her abusive step-father Richie.  She had been living away from them for about a year because Richie kicked her out, but she eventually was able to come home. She started back to school and immediately, on her first day, on the bus ride to school no less, people started picking on her- teasing her about her wild red hair, the way she dressed, because she wasn’t toothpick thin.

No one would let her sit with them on the bus, until finally a boy name Park told her to sit with him. It took a while for them to become friends, and even longer for them to be more than that.  Eleanor had so many walls up inside of her from being mistreated and unloved her entire life.

The book chronicles their journey in first love.  But this book also reminded me of my story.

I lived with my mom, my dad, my little sister, and my half brother (from time to time). My dad was a mean, cruel, controlling man.  He physically, mentally and emotionally abused all of us.  Even my poor brother when he would visit.

I also didn’t have many friends at school.  I was picked on through elementary school, junior high and high school.  I don’t look back on the times spent in school with fond memories.  Most of the time I think of the worst days of my life.  The days I would cry myself to sleep, the days I would try to make myself invisible- because if I was invisible they wouldn’t pick on me mercilessly.  I think of the fact I became anorexic and lost a huge amount of weight because maybe if I wasn’t “the fat girl” they would like me (they didn’t).  Maybe if I lost weight my dad would stop making fun of my size – he didn’t. It drove me into depression.  Into even worse anxiety, and into self harm.  I had a couple friends in high school, but I didn’t talk to them about my life at home.  There was one friend, I spent most weekends at her house for years.  For years I wished her parents would adopt me.  I wanted her life.  Her house was my safe haven.

Until I saw him.  Somehow I knew the evening I saw him in my high school cafeteria, that it would all be ok, somehow. We became friends, then more. I was desperate for him.  I craved his love.  I couldn’t breathe without thinking of him.  He made my life worth it.  He loved me, unconditionally.  I had never had that before.  He saved me from my father, from my tormentors, from myself.  People still made fun of me, be sure of that, but it didn’t matter so much.  I had someone who loved me, all of me, battle scars, bruises and all.

We were almost immediately inseparable. The friends we each had felt displaced, but we just couldn’t stand to be apart.  It didn’t help we went to different schools, but we saw each other as much as humanly possible.  We talked about everything.  He knew everything about my past, things I had never told anyone.  I shared my hopes and dreams with him- dreams that somehow included him the minute we met.

People thought we were too much.  Too obsessed. Spent too much time together.  We were just “infatuated”.  But we knew; we knew even then that we would be together till death do us part.

And now, almost 23 years later, I still have all those scars, all those bruises, and some new ones, but he still loves me.  I loves me 100+ pounds heavier, when I’m sometimes broken, when I’m sometimes angry (at life really), when I am envious of others and their apparent lack of bruises and brokenness. He loves me with the purest, most unconditional life I have ever experienced in my life.

I still need him.  I am still desperate for him.  I still crave his constant companionship. And while our life hasn’t turned out exactly as we planned I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  He is my best friend, he is my first real love, the first person who really SAW, the real me, not the person I show the world I am.

Sometimes I think back to the nights we were teenagers making plans for our future, despite everyone telling us we would never last.  Telling us we were just kids. Yes, we were just kids, only a couple years older than our oldest is now, but the minute we saw each other we realized we completed each other.

What does all this have to do with the book?  There were so many similarities between Eleanor and Park and my husband and I.  Reading through it, brought up so many memories and feelings. I don’t think I have related to a character in a book like I related to Eleanor- ever.

This book definitely gets four stars from me. How could it not?

What’s New?

Let’s recap the last week…

Last week was… I don’t even think there is a word to describe the last week.

I feel like I spent the entire week going from one appointment to the next. Little one started counseling, which gives me anxiety. I hate not being in control of what’s going on with my kiddos. I know that sounds ridiculous. I have to admit that I am a control freak. I know it comes from my past. I had to always be prepared for any situation that might arise. If I wasn’t prepared, if I wasn’t three steps ahead of dad there was “hell to pay”.

Tuesday we had an IEP meeting for big one. I spent the entire meeting pinching the skin of my left hand, because I was anxious about the meeting, anxious I would say the wrong thing, or… I don’t know. It was the only coping skill I had at that moment. It had already been a day filled with anxiety, what’s a little more… apparently a lot. The meeting itself went well, though, I will believe the plan when they actually do it, when they do what they promised to make his life at school what he is entitled to as a special education student.

Earlier in the day I fired my new counselor. Did I mention Polly Anna left and left me in the “capable hands” of the caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland. I hadn’t come up with a name for her until just now. I don’t know why that is the first thing I thought of, but she and I just didn’t click. It was SO HARD for me to do. I was worried, and still am, that she was upset with me, or thought bad of me. I still get knots in my stomach thinking about it.

And then I had med management. My resting pulse was 129, too high. So she increased my antidepressant and if that doesn’t stop this constant anxiety she will add another med. I have noticed two distinct times that my anxiety goes through the roof.

1. When I have to leave the house.

2. Around 4 or 5pm.

I can guess why leaving the house would cause me anxiety. Having to be around other people, germs, etc. Today when I was at church, and then at the movies with a friend, I think I used an entire bottle of santizer. But as for the 4pm/5pm timeframe, the only thing I can think of is the dinner/bedtime rush. But I get shaky, my pulse races, and I feel like I want to throw up. Heck right now I am feeling sick.

I feel like so much of our lives is at a stand still because of other people, we are waiting on other people, our lives are in their hands so to speak. We are STILL dealing with the foreclosure of our old house. It’s been over 3 years now. My husband is still waiting to hear about his disability case. We are so tight with money. We haven’t yet gotten to the point of robbing Peter to pay Paul but we are headed that way. We have racked up some credit card debt wait let me rephrase that. I have racked up credit card debt.. I have 3 coping skills- shopping, overeating, and self harm. All of them are bad, but which one is worse? The cuts fade, but debt and fat haunt you for years. I am currently the biggest I have ever been- even when I was pregnant.

This week I meet up with my new therapist, I might ask hubby to come with me, I am really quite nervous. I have to start all over, she won’t know anything about me. And the final thing? I have been diagnosed with an “unspecified personality disorder”. I am just full of diagnoses now- Major depressive disorder, recurrent episode, severe. Generalized anxiety disorder, Post traumatic stress disorder, and obsessive compulsive disorder. Fun fun fun.

Did I mention that I have a case manager now? I am not sure what she is supposed to do for me, I mean both my kids have them, but I have no idea what she will do for me. I asked her to look into a weighted blanket for me, and where I could get one that isn’t too expensive, but I don’t know is she will/can. I haven’t heard back from her.

Well I need to go to bed, another week starts tomorrow. Bleh.


I’m going on vacation with my brother and his son and my kids, Tues thru Friday. We are going to an indoor water park. I have been avoiding the thought about wearing a bathing suit until tonight. I bought one at the beginning of summer, and didn’t wear a single time.

Now I live in a cold climate, so shaving my legs is not always a priority… But that’s something I’m going to have to tackle before Tuesday.

I also figured I better try on my bathing suit since I’ve gained a bunch of weight since buying said bathing suit, I’m happy to report that it still fits- However I threw up a little bit in my mouth when I looked in the mirror. Here is an artists rendering of how I looked…

Except I am wearing a one piece bathing suit.

I have never been this big in my life, some of it is medication related, some of it is being laid up and not allowed to do exercises due to various injuries. But if I’m honest I eat like crap, and I could be doing better but I just don’t try. Food and shopping or my drugs of choice when I can’t cut. Food and shopping make me feel better for a little while and then realization hits, And I’m worse off than I started and I hate myself more than when I started. But I can’t stop, it’s like I don’t have control. I don’t know why I’m even saying all this I guess I just needed to get it out of my head to stop the narrative but I don’t think it’ll stop.


I have sat down so many times to make a post, but the words just won’t come.  I sit here, cursor blinking, unable to put my thoughts to “paper” so to speak.  The past week has been…. I don’t even have a word for it.  On Wednesday, Big One came home from school in the worst mood ever. He was with his worker at the local gym, kicking his backpack around the parking lot, yelling, screaming… he said he had a crap day.  I was away with little one,  taking her to her therapies, and got a call from big one’s worker, asking me what she should do, I tried talking him down, and finally we convinced him to go into the gym, his worker talked to him while they were in the gym.  It turns out that he had been bullied pretty badly at school that day.

Immediately, two things happened.  First I went into Mama Bear mode, and started emailing his case manager at school, and his counselor, with two emails each because after I sent the first I had more to say. The second thing that happened was that I internalized it.  All my memories of being bullied throughout my life came rushing into my thoughts,  it was like me reliving it all over again.  Which has made it very hard for me to have perspective.  I decided I wasn’t sending him back to school until his IEP meeting in a couple weeks.  It was’t a big deal since we are going away for most of the upcoming week.  And then the following Monday they are off school.  But on Friday the assistant principal reached out asking what he could do to help, what did I want etc.  The emails I had sent the case manager were forwarded to him.  He seemed genuine, so we decided instead of waiting until the IEP meeting my hubby will meet with him this week, and he will meet with big one’s counselor too.  We want to be prepared when we go in for the meeting.  I will not allow him to be bullied the way I was, it was what started my self-harming behaviors.  Big one is increasingly angry and feels like people are out to get him.

Maybe it’s a good thing that hubby will be handling thing while the kids and I are away.  He will be calm and level-headed, where I am more emotional about it all. All I know is that I won’t let it continue.  If the school doesn’t handle it in a way that things will actually change he won’t go to that school.  His counselor basically says he has to learn what life it like sometime, but if you think about adult life, it isn’t constant bullying.  The other problem is that he has autism, he doesn’t understand social cues, and often can’t tell if people are joking or serious.  His perception might be off, but no matter, like I said to the assistant principal, perception is reality.

I go between being so anxious I think I might die, angry and sad.  Tonight we were watching TV and Jingle Bell Rock came in on the show and I started crying.  Why? Who knows.  Maybe because I haven’t had the same love of Christmas the last to years that I have in the past, maybe because…. I really don’t know.  I am just emotionally unstable.

Hopefully having a few days away this week will make me feel a little better, I plan on doing some reading, playing cards with my brother, and trying not to think about all of this, because it makes me feel physically sick.  The thought of having to fight the school for what my son needs makes me lose it too.  The last time I fought them it took everything I had, I just don’t have it in me this time.  I am not strong enough.  The one consolation is that I am going in there with 3 support people that are professionals that can attest to what he needs, and his counselor will be there and he has told his counselor of his struggles. If I didn’t have them I would just take him out of school and homeschool him again.  I really hope it doesn’t come to that, I really don’t, because I don’t have that in me either. I feel like I am stuck between a rock and a hard place, and there’s no escape. I told my counselor the other day that I wanted to be put in sensory deprivation room with the ability to turn my brain off, because it just goes round and round with all the “what-ifs”.

Until next time….