AT&T…

How I adore them. I picked up my phone to call Mindy and a sweet recording said “Your call has been blocked at the customer’s request.”

Hmmmm….what the fuck? I called Mindy from my cell phone and she called me back on my home phone and it came through.

I tried to call AT&T and their automated system wouldn’t respond. Five fucking times people.

I got the cut off notice for my phone today…three days after it was cut off. At least they left me with my DSL.

My point of this whole blog is…

If you are going to cut a person’s shit off, cut all the shit off. Don’t make me wonder…”at the customer’s request?”

Oh…now I get it…that was my request…I didn’t have enough money to pay the bill so….

I guess I requested to be poor this month?

At least they were nice about it and didn’t tell anyone else but me…well, hell, they didn’t even tell me.

A recording that made me think my best friend had blocked my number.

“This number has been blocked by the customer’s request.”

Sweet.

Come on…just say “Bitch, it’s time to pay the bill.”

I was outside smoking and it hit, yet again…

Then it popped into my head…I got it

Now I know where a lot of this panic is coming from.

It hurts to move on. It hurts to turn my back on someone that has so much pain that it has turned to rage.

I also realized that I have been taking care of someone for almost 13 years. He was my way of avoiding my own life. He became my life. If things went wrong I could always blame him. Well, usually it was him, but that's beside the point.

When people would come into work on Monday and start talking about their weekends and how they went out with this person or went and saw that movie or went away for the weekend all I had were Vance stories because I didn't have a life. I let him take it away. I always thought I was the one in control when in actuality he was.

Now…I'm having to face all the fuck-ups that I did to get by and step back into the real world and take care of business and I'm terrified that I will fail.

And I'm sorry to say, no matter how much of a nightmare he was I can't help but miss some aspect of him even if it's something as simple as predictability.

I have also never mourned the loss of the Vance I fell in love with because he was there at one time.

I also know that I was one of the few people in his life that he truly trusted. After they had all turned their backs on him I was the last one standing and now I have done the same. I've turned and walked away. I never thought I would be one of those people. I feel guilty about that but there is a point of self survival.

He is slowly killing himself. He can’t pull the trigger so he’s taking the painful way out. The very long way out.

And I had to turn and walk away. I can’t save his demise.

I have to move forward.

My first therapy session…

Interesting.

Confirmed three hundred times the directions. 3.7 miles. I didn’t get lost but I didn’t have a pen…or a check or money order.

See, I forgot to ask these questions because I’ve never done this before. Silly me. Sent me straight into a mental mind fuck.

They won’t see you there without money. So I was told to go to the café next door to the ATM.

Then with shaking hands I had to fill out paperwork…with someone watching. At least I was using her pen so she couldn’t write anything down. Heh.

I got the idea that they wanted a persons background first. Nah. She laid right into it…in a very nice lady way.

I actually had to stop her and say “Does harsh language offend you?”

She just kind of looked at me.

We all know here, that if I am to describe my life with Vance, I’m going to have to say, one of his favorite lines “You fucking bitch, you think you are so fucking great and you are such fucking garbage. You are so fucking ugly.”

And no…I didn’t say that to her.

I thought I was holding back with what he use to say to me but the look on her face when I said the slightest of things to her was sheer horror. This. Is. Not. What. I. Want. To. See.

I saw my face in her and I was looking at the clock to put her out of her pain.

How do I know this, you might ask? She took my money…walked me to the door and couldn’t look me in the eye when she said “I’ll see you next week.”

I’m not giving up. I’m going the therapist my dr. recommended. I’ll find the $125 just to see if she sees.

The sad thing is…she had no idea what to do with me and I could see it. I think I could have taught this woman something but I don’t have the time anymore.

Haha…me teaching a therapist something…not so funny…I’m looking for help?

At least she made me pissed off enough to make a few phones calls (yes at 1am, there are 800 numbers) to find a free ten week program. Fowl language is accepted because that is the only way it can be listened to and resolved.

I told one of the women what the therapist’s reactions were to my comments and she, in a very calm way said “That probably wasn’t good.”

A two week panic attack…that was a slap in the face…it was also a leaning experience.

I don’t need help…I need learning experience.

I thought that I could help someone learn their trade. No. I need someone who’s been there.

And hopefully they have a sense of humor.

It subsided today for a while…

Xanax didn’t hurt.

But…from an unexpended source the words came…

“How do you feel?”

“I’m learning to take it day by day.”

He said “I know how it feels, I’ve been though it, even though it was a long time ago. I understand.”

I know some people get it and some don’t…and I pray those people that don’t, don't ever have to go through it. I wouldn’t wish this shit on my worst enemy.

Not even him...not even Vance.

I had to tell my Mom this weekend I was going to therapy…she didn’t disagree but she had the “tone”.

I’m starting to finally feel better and I know it’s because of my friends…but I’m still shit and I know it. I keep saying that because it’s true to me. No one can erase something instilled for years in my mind. It’s not possible. I don’t believe I’m a good person because he told me for years I was a horrible human being.

But I think I’m winning the battle now…I don’t think I believe him anymore.

But only time can tell.

All I want to know is why he tried to steal my sunshine.

I only wanted happiness.

Man…he took everything.

Nichole…

At 50 she adopted 5 children. She was the other end of the phone. I finally found a hot line to help abused women.

Gross. I so fucking hate saying that. It sounds so weak.

Nichole had a drunk of a boyfriend. She was embarrassed to be seen in public with him.

Heh.

I know the feeling so well.

The phone call actually made me feel worse because eventually I have to fess up at some point.

I'm done. I've lost eleven pounds in two weeks.

I can't function...my heart hurts.

Does anyone understand this?

No.

I’m breathing on thin air…

I’m crazy.

I can’t breath.

Please make this go away.

The pain is relentless.

I open up my heart and tell every one my shit…and…everyone tells me to stop. Calm down.

Funny.

No. One. Can feel the pain I feel. Nor can I feel theirs.

I have no clue about what you have been through…none.

So why do people judge me? I’m single handily falling apart. And at least I know I am.

Disability…unemployment…hurt…pain…loss.

Who was there for me? Me. I can always depend on me.

Unless I die, that would kind of kill that concept.

It’s always a big fucking joke.

Ha…fucking…Ha.

I’ve been fucked over…to the point of…loss of control.

I see the road Joe took…now.

I finally fucking realized it. The pain. He couldn’t bear it anymore.

Don’t worry, I’m not taking the easy way out.

I do however want people to lay the fuck off of me.

Feeding the fire.

I drink too much, smoke too much.

It’s called surviving.

If I didn’t have this shit I’d be dead.

And if you are so fucking concerned, fly here.

Didn’t happen.

Hell no…that’s not going to happen…ever.

No one ever comes here. I fly there when someone dies.

I have so much hate for myself.

Because I never spoke up. I thought they knew.

I thought they knew who I was.

They have no idea.

Now that I’m falling apart…

Who’s here…me.

No one sees it, or understands it.

I’ve put up a brave front for so long that now no one understands that I’m losing my mind.

Except me.

Shaft?

Is that's all he's remembered for? You've got to be fuckging kidding me.

R.I.P.

The victim…

You know what a victim is?

Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) - Cite This Source - Share This
vic·tim Audio Help [vik-tim] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–noun
1.
a person who suffers from a destructive or injurious action or agency: a victim of an automobile accident.
2.
a person who is deceived or cheated, as by his or her own emotions or ignorance, by the dishonesty of others, or by some impersonal agency: a victim of misplaced confidence; the victim of a swindler; a victim of an optical illusion.
3.
a person or animal sacrificed or regarded as sacrificed: war victims.
4.
a living creature sacrificed in religious rites.

I would think…hmmmm…that I would be #2.

I refuse to be the victim forever, because that’s just sad.

I don’t think I am anymore.

Tired…

Today is a day I want to forget... I rarely say this.

I’m fucking sick…xanax isn’t even working.

My panic attack that started this morning has subsided to a low hummmm….which makes me more insane.

Wwwwhhhhooosssshhhh….11am...all I wanted to do was smoke.

No warning…I wasn’t thinking about a fucking thing.

It engulfed me. My hands stared to shake. I could see my shirt moving from the pounding of my heart.

Then the tornado of thoughts came.

Random…insane thoughts.

Fucking take me away…straight jacket.

Hey, lock me away, free food, free medication and I don’t have to deal with life. Sounds good to me.

I’m going to see a therapist next week but I have found one for free that I might be able to see sooner than a paycheck.

I fucking adore people that can walk through this world and be unsked. I however, can’t do that.

I’m starting to crack.

This is not me. I have to buck it up...but bucking it up is getting harder by the hour…minute…second.

I saw this on a car today...

it made me smile...

Tada! All warm and fuzzy. Well except for the war part...cupcake part is good though.

I want to make something very clear here…

I do not write the things that I do about Vance to play the poor victim. I write the things I do to get my fucking thoughts out. That is why I started this fucking blog…to save my fucking sanity.

Last night I just happened to see a show that triggered a memory and I had to get it out.

I also had a bad weekend due to something that I had to do that made me feel like shit about myself and I don’t feel like talking about it here because it just makes me feel like more of a loser.

I try and walk through this life with a smile on my face and try and put on a normal facade. It works most of the time but inside I want to claw my fucking face off.

I don’t expect comments when I post things like I posted last night, as a matter of fact I prefer that people not comment because there is nothing to comment on. I don’t post these things for people to feel sorry for me. What I’m hoping to do when I write that crap is to figure out what the FUCK I was thinking. Why the FUCK did I do what I did. Why the FUCK do I continue to FUCK my life up.

No. One. Can. Answer. This. But. Me.

So if you see anything that has the words Vance or DD and don't want to read it feel free to move on. It doesn't matter to me.

As I’ve said before I try my best not to talk about him anymore but sometimes it comes out anyway.

Hopefully tonight I’ll write something all warm and fuzzy…doubtful but it could happen.

“Intervention”

I watch it all the time but the new one I just watched astounded me because I actually saw me on the other side of the person.

I never thought that Vance was smart enough or sober enough to manipulate me…but he was.

I lived through years of him screaming, throwing shit at me, calling his friends in front of my face and telling them what a fucking bitch I was because I wouldn’t give him money for beer or get him drugs.

In the end I did all of it. I paid for his drugs and his beer and I even drove him to get both.

Enabler? Of course I was but I have a problem with that word. I enabled to save my sanity. If I didn’t do it he would scream at me all night long. If I tried to leave…it would turn physical…if I reached for the phone…if he got to it first…it was a weapon. I went through a lot of phones. Then I learned I just wasn’t fast or strong enough and I gave up.

The memories that are starting to emerge…I don’t want to live through again but I know I have to.

I’ve lived with a drug addict for years. Walking out into my kitchen with weird people in my house fucking blasted out of their mind and I’m trying to get ready for work.

I know the reason for the last few depressing posts. He called me the day after my birthday and I listened to the message.

I’m around normal people now and it’s weird but all these new people make me think that I want to at least try to be a semi-normal person. They make me, want to make me a better person. Does that make sense? But it’s so tiring to listen to them talk and try and understand their normal world. Because I don’t understand.

I’ve been under a microscope for years and my family still thinks I’m weird and living beyond my means, which in fact I’m trying to clean up my past. They just think I’m a loser…I don’t blame um.

People at work, I think, thought...it was some sort of attention getter about my birthday. It’s not really that fucking funny to me but I have to make a joke of it because it hurts and the weird thing is, is I bring it up...mistake...I know Mindy is the only one that understands. One day or one year it doesn’t fucking matter. My birth certificate says one day…everything else says another. My Mom said just the other day…”For the hundredth time INDIA…the hospital made a mistake.” Okay. I'll never bring it up again...but I still want to know WHY?

I’m so fucking dark minded sometimes that I think…the hospital did make a mistake or someone did because I wasn’t suppose to be born. That’s a whole other story that I should have never been told.

I know I’m fucked up but not enough to do it to another person.

I think life is sweet, I don’t want to miss a second but it’s a shame I do sometimes.

Because I’m just so fucking tired.

It’s rare that I feel this way…

extremely rare.

I like being alone…I always have but for some reason...today I feel lonely.

Being alone and lonely…

Such a huge difference.

Cast Away…

I watched this movie today and it actually brought me to tears. I think it’s due to the sheer fact that I have become my own therapist.

When Tom Hanks is on the raft and he “Wilson” the volleyball falls off he raft he freaks out. He jumps in the water to try and save him but can’t. He has to choose between getting back to the raft and living or dieing to save Wilson.

Now I know this is only a movie but him screaming “I’m so sorry Wilson! I’m so sorry!” Made me realize how I’ve felt for the last few years.

I’m sorry I couldn’t save you Vance.

I’m so sorry.