Last night I was talking to a friend via FB, our normal routine. I was in an irritable and nasty mood after a very good day. The frigid temperature, and dealing with all sorts of problems during evening feeding had created the perfect environment for an argument. It was a good one, for sure. All because of frozen water buckets. Needless to say, we fought again. Same old crap. But this time she threw out the “what did you do to help today?”. Gee, nice. That got my hackles up. We pay someone to do the very worst of the heavy labor. Something neither she nor I can do, day after day. That is why we have him. So, for her to imply that I should be doing his work was a bit much. What really iced it, no pun intended, was when she defended the guy for not doing his work. I just about lost it. I know what I wanted to say. I walked away. I spent an hour beating the shit out of frozen buckets. Pissed as shit because we pay someone to do this. You’re probably wondering what I wanted to say.
You know what I did today. I stayed sane today. I did what I do everyday to make this world somewhat livable. I did what makes the most sense for me. I fucking went to session, and spent an hour wandering thru my head. Maybe looking for some answers to this reality I live. You honestly fucking think I like that? You think it is enjoyable? A way to shirk responsibilites? I should be here? here in this fucking place that makes my skin crawl and my heart race. But by all means, next time I’ll skip therapy and do the work our god damn employee should be doing. You hired him. You defend his laziness. Let’s see how that goes. Fuck you. I don’t fucking see you doing the damn water buckets either. Don’t point a finger at me. But I guess I still haven’t answered what did I do? That one is easy. I gave up a life with any sense of normal. I stand here chained to this because you want it more than anything in this world. I stand here watching as year after year $$ are poured into this place. I signed paper after paper draining the savings plans that stood there for me to retire one day. That is gone now, don’t bother asking me for more. I stood here knowing your stupid fucking drunk friend was screwing up, but I could do nothing. Nothing because the fierce defense of her from you. Yeah, you. I fucking stand here watching it burn to the ground all the while knowing it will take us with it. You want to know why I leave here to go to session, or to the gym? I go because I have to fight to breath in the midst of the panic here. It is suffocating me, slowly but surely. Day after day, week after week, year after year. But it is what you want right? Yeah, you would rather sit here with your head in the sand and throw stones at me. Do you have any idea what this place has cost? I’m not talking about dollars and cents. Though sure, that number would be appalling as well. I am talking about the physical and emotional cost. The slow and steady stripping of my ability to feel any joy. Every inch of me being turned out, and replaced with worry and fear. There is no hope of happy, not here, not in the conditions we live in. What did I do? I just gave it my life. I don’t often stop and looking in the mirror. I did when I returned from the hospital. Sheila, in all here glory had to share the consensus amongst staff is that I returned there looking like I was haggard and aged. They are right. I don’t recognize the person I have become. The hard work, the endless hours and this life created that…I look at you and I see the same. so you ask what did I do? I’ve walked down a path with you that has cost so fucking much. So if I want to bitch about what isn’t done, or could be done better- I WILL. and it is my right to do so. I am millimeters away from walking away completely. Not because I don’t love you. I love you more that I can ever possibly say, but because the cost to me is too great. I don’t ever want to be questioned for doing what I need to do to survive. EVER. I would far prefer a life where I didn’t have to swallow handfuls of drugs, and spend 1/2 my life in treatment. I would welcome a life without that. I would love a life without endlessly worrying how much stress I can handle before things start to come undone. I wish I could be as strong and sensible as you when so much is going wrong. That isn’t me. Someday, maybe.
I don’t like to be questioned. I don’t know why you take it so personally when I note something amiss here. And believe me there is plenty I notice and say nothing. I don’t understand how it is acceptable to you. I just don’t. When did everything go so wrong? When did our relationship become about petty arguments and endless sniping. I don’t want this. I’m doubt you want it either.
It is hard sitting here with one leg on either side of this path. Part of me desperately wanting to walk a new road, but the other bonded and deeply caring about a person that will not stray from the road we forged years ago. It is an impossible place to be, in so very many ways.