Hurricane Season

I’m almost positive that when I go see my Rheumatologist on my next visit, my levels won’t be within normal range. With the quantity and frequency of stress I’ve been under lately, there’s no way my MCTD is in check anymore. Maybe it’s the heat (and the awesome humidity) or I’m having a flare up, but, I’m in ungodly amounts of pain. The swelling in my hands and feet are out of control. I’m tempted to cut them off some days. Add the constant pain from shoulder to the mix and I’m feeling fan-fucking-tastic. It’s a vicious cycle of pain and bullshit. The more stressed out I am, the worse I physically feel. The worse I feel physically, the more stressed out I get. Around and around it goes. I’m wondering at what point, the ride will turn off and I can catch my breath…

The stress of the separation that has yet to really begin for a multitude of reasons (almost of all of them being logistics and stall tactics) is quite literally (and without exaggeration) killing me. It’s like I can feel myself fading away a little more each day. Each day I get a little weaker (physically, mentally, emotionally) and less willing to fight for…well anything (expect Ava of course). I go through the moments of tremendous strength and willpower and right after I’m unable to pick myself up off the ground. I usually end up wanting to give up when my family, my parents, say and do what they can to make me feel like a horrible mother and a total bitch for following through with the divorce. This is how screwed up this is; two weeks ago, or so, my dad told me that he was purposely doing and saying things to show me how hard it’ll be to be a single mother (I assume, to scare me into calling it off). Supportive huh? Yay for family. I have no doubt that being the primary care giver AND living on my own (with Ava, of course) will have its challenges, but, I thought my family knew me better than that. I’ve been through things that some people twice, even three times my age, have never had to experience. I would say that that, in and of itself, allots me some credit…guess not.

So, when I’m not on the edge of driving my car off a bridge, I’m self-sabotaging yet again. It’s sickening that I really cannot allow myself to be happy. It’s a combination of not believing that I deserve happiness and being afraid of its unfamiliarity. Maybe I’m one of those people that isn’t meant to have happiness. So positive, I know, but it’s honestly how I feel. Once one wall drops, my mind automatically says, “oh shit” and puts another one right back up. Getting one to drop is exhausting enough but to have to constantly fight the new ones that shoot up and the urge to run as far away as possible is becoming too much. I’ve said it before, and it meant it, I’m perfectly content living out the rest of my days just having Ava. I mean, I’ve gone…more weeks than I can remember since I’ve had any physical contact that wasn’t of a platonic or familial nature; I’m pretty sure I can keep that going without much issue. After all, the don’t make adult “products” for nothing, right? I know it seems like the easy route, and it is; I won’t deny it. But when everything else around you are so damn complicated, it’s the more appealing option. Yes, I understand and believe that, the best things in life don’t come easy but sometimes I don’t want the best; I want uncomplicated. And simplicity and running go hand in hand. By the way, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m on the verge of becoming irreparable; with half of the credit given to myself. It’s something that’s slowly becoming a comfortable reality for me and god help anyone that tries to alter that reality. It’ll be their funeral, considering you can’t kill what doesn’t exist; like hope.

After all, we are in the middle of hurricane season…


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