Ativan and other wanderings

I find another lorazepam tablet empty in the wash and can guarantee that it wasn't me, which leaves the only other person in the house, who by incident does not have a prescription for this either, but works in an environment where it is accessible. How sweet. Along with the talking in the sleep, the "caressing of oneself", and the tablets.. what is next.....

OH.. How about we go spend time with the bitch from hell that his son married that tried to kill their children, that is preggies again (against Dr. orders, medical science, against all hope and prayers in this family for all hope that is good on the world), the crazy B*tch has manipulated every situation she can for MONEY, for ATTENTION, and to keep her man... even at the extent of harming those children - so if he doesn't have the gonads to leave her, press charges, sign the papers to admit her - well his son is no better and they deserve each other. What I deserve is not to pushed into dealing with them or having to deal with them in any way shape or form like I have had to... This is next, a five hour drive to HELL... at least I got to limit it to only overnight, and it is near my cousin and I might be able to escape.

Early Morning....WTF

Within three hours of closing my eyes B has managed to spank off in the bathroom, not flush, go to the other room, and continue his "private matters".
Question - Why am I up? This is disturbing behavior, always disturbs me. I hate it. I find that it that the deviance coincides with his aggression towards me and leaves me afraid and angry and I hate that. So to one side I am forced to ignore the behavior, because if I don't the escalation turns into bruises on if not my body, not spirit.

I realize that this all could end if I could walk away, but do people realize how many people are stuck. Stuck in a cycle, stuck believeing in some way shape or form the words/the actions are now their worth, stuck financially. I am disabled, which I guess makes his actions a little more unforgivable. But it is not as if I don't cook, clean, pay food, bills with my disability check, but that check would make it seem like I worked a week at my previous job and it is supposed to take care of lodging/rent too!??! PLEASE.
These government people have no idea what it like, to know you have limited time, multiple surgeries, a thirst for knowledge, great mind, wicked humor, but have to decide during the winter to pay gas bill and not eat, or keep gas/heat down as low as it will go and barely eat sleeping in your jacket and multiple blankets, thinking about your children realizing in some great way you have failed them (ALWAYS keeping their bellies full, never letting them go without). The bruises well they heal at least on the outside.

When the Crisis Line Knows Your Voice

When even the hotline knows my voice as I had to call them on last week after B went nuts and hit me again, but this time with a closed hand in my face up into my ear that I had just gone and seen the doctor about and had to get medication for. All night his insanity I was able to share, for that night I was able to hear the validation that it was not me that I am not crazy, that I DO NOT Deserve This- Any of it - that I am better than this, but in those conversations, all night long on and off, was the big question, why am I staying, what keeps me here, what part of me still allows and accepts this - why didn't I walk out, throw him out the first time I was even disrespected, instead I allowed it to escalate to the highest form of disrespect. Yet, I clean up, I take care of it, I in my way allow it - how and why did it get so far in me to allow this kind of treatmeant, any kind of unacceptable treatment and still stay as if it is conditioned inside of me that this is what I am worth, this is normal for me, this is okay. I know otherwise in my brain and I wouldn't allow anyone to treat another that I love like this or even a stranger, so what stops me from fighting for myself expecting and getting those standards for myself.

The "Loving" words spoken and then respoken

It's Never "Little Star", It's Always Someone Else's Fault - Aaaahhh - the wonderous advice that continues to this day slam me from my grandmother's mental meltdown and assault upon my character that continued to assault me onto my children, how sweet the world is. So as I attempt to discipline my teenage son, whose mouth has become that of a sailor and whose lack of empathy reminds me of his father, my parents, and my grandmother combined, sending him to his room with no tv at 11pm (oh, the horror) becomes an ordeal and out spews forth the venom that he has now been filled with, the words verbatim spoken - finally an astute student, but at what. Is it grand to see a monster spill forth out of your own, mimicking the monsters that tormented you until you could get away, the ones that killed any chance you had at a childhood. How distorted the views and thoughts now flow from my son's tongue, that I wasn't there (I worked 3 jobs at times, but found ways to be home for lunch with him, programs, games, practice, always there for dinner and bed - I provided), that I didn't take care of him (well who did, not anyone else, no one else hugged, loved, bathed, bought clothes, toys, tutored, built projects or in some cases wrote them last minute so he would pass), that I wasn't there (again I was always there - where did this distorted view come from), that I wasn't there emotional (who defended him, knew when things were wrong, fought with him so he would go into the deeper feelings, hired the therapist and took him every week - I guess that couldn't have been me). He compared how I treat him to his sister, I reminded him that his sister gets punished according to her actions and the reoccurence, so what is going on with him. Now the brainwashing, the continuing of the circle labeling me, punishing me for getting away, for looking them in the face and calling them as I see it and them - my family has reach up from the gutter and touched somewhere in the recesses of my son a character flaw to exploit and water to grow at great length to hurt me. Why do this to my children first and foremost, why do it to children at all - there is a need to keep innocence still around in them for as long as possible, yet for some reason my own family has set out to jade them. This is further examples of their inexcusable behavior, their continual abuse, their need to abuse at all costs (whatever they might be), there is no such thing as the welfare of my children or their state of mind, body, or spirit as long as they get their message out and it somehow continues to live and grow down the lineage I am sure they will be quite content with themselves.

Mommie Dearest Flashback

Often I have been told by my friends and extended family members that they are amazed that I survived my childhood and what I continue to put up with today. They actual ask how I managed not to kill people or end up in a "facility" (they whisper that as they do cancer). I tell them that I am blessed to have them to bounce the insanity off of them, just to validate that it isn't me or in my head, that in their way they were there the best way they could be and they are here now and that is what counts, how meaningful that phone call means or that hug. I don't like people that make excuses for their behavior because that is how they were raised, because to me it can serve as the best example of how not to behave, how not to continue, what you do not want to become. Unfortunately, I had to recently have dealings with my parents, who are very sick people that truly deserve each other and drain all the energy out of me. From the moment I get to the door and they open it, a nasty comment meant to hurt me is made and so the scene is set. I refuse to entertain them anymore, which makes them bombard and strike harder and faster, but I just sat there trying to get the business at hand done - which of course they extended into a long tedious process that will now involve another visit. My grandmother that raised me, of which I cared for during an emotional breakdown by myself which began when I was ten, is now having episodes like she did during that breakdown. She is showing complete insanity (hence the wire hanger reference - she was throwing clothes off the hangers, yelling, walking on the clothes, saying the mean, vile things - acting like she did when she had an emotional breakdown before -almost same vile words and facial distortion). But she crossed some serious lines when she involved this sickness onto my daughter, by saying nasty and vile things about me to her while my daughter in tears begged her to stop and she called her "a little b*tch", she went on to say that she is dead to my daughter and to me (I am the only one -not her daughter, not my sister or her family, not my brother visit her or put up with her). I bit my tongue until that point and let her know that under no uncertain terms she had crossed lines, that is was a bitter, old woman, that will end up alone because this is it, I will no longer tolerate this behavior. I told her that she was sick and I was tired of making excuses for her, that there was no excuse for this. I left. I called my aunt, her sister, who lives around the corner from her, validated it was not me, got great advice, that we are in this world a short time and I need to start living for me and mine, not for my grandmother, not be everyone's caretaker and scapegoat, whipping post, that I will never be anything but my grandmother's "greatest disappointment" (yes, she tells me this all the time, and openly tells others- but follows that she says that because she loves me and she wouldn't say it if she didn't love me, I told her once I wish she didn't love me like that) but I am more than that much much more and it is time for me to go out and grab it. I cried afterwards. I think I cried for years of abuse, years people are going to be unanswered for, years wasted, the loss of the delusion of possibility, I cried because it is an end that needs closure inside. I don't want my children thinking that this behavior is acceptable, much less a form of love - so why would I, it isn't, and the realization that I was raised by people that did not want me, that abused me, and did not love me ever is hard, very hard. To know that is to mourn it all.

Thanks Disney

I guess I am the product of Disney movies, Fairy Tale books, Doris Day songs, I am starting to seriously wonder if that sealed the doom. As I calmly flipped over a page to release my anxiously held breath awaiting for the prince to kiss the princess and read those perfect words in a deep sigh knowing all was right in the world at that moment and as the glow of the story or song embraced me "Happily Ever After". How often my escape from the troubles of an abusive childhood was found curled up in the magical tales of make believe, in the promises that all would be work out, that true love prevailed against evil, that evil is always destroyed, and to make it even more special - happiness, forever. The solace I took in these tales, the gospel according to Disney promised me a prince who would love me, protect me, challenge and defeat all evil, and grant me happiness ever after. (It can be loosely interpretated to other gospels I know, but in Disney's I was a princess and no sacrifice was needing to be made)
I wonder if I can sue Disney for years of therapy that have come since. Coming to grips that 1. you are not secretly a princess 2. a prince is not coming to wisk you away 3. good does not always overcome evil 4. true love is rare and seems to have died out three/four generations ago 5. things rarely work out (I am not bitter nor a cynic, just a realist) 6. magic in a relationship is really smoke and mirrors for illusion and later disillusion 7. happiness can never last forever, it is as fleeting as an infant's sleepy smile, it is an emotion a state of mind based on the moment within that moment.
I know these things to be true, yet somehow I am sucked in to another Disney film, Hallmark movie/commercial, love song, romantic comedy/drama there ever was/is or ever will be concieved. I find the world I live in so unbearable beyond my control that I lose myself in "the dream". You know the one where someday your prince will come and you will know him because you dreamt of him.
Yet when you wake up you 1. don't talk to your parents except on rare occasions 2. have a severely abusive relationship (another in a list of many) 3. still are in the middle of your divorced grandparents who raised you for the most part 4. have an ex husband that even after 10 yrs of divorce kept you in court on and off to bankrupt you three times (due to his new older multi million dollar wife that keeps him as a well kept man) 5. have medical issues that affect that organs one by one 6. PTSD and other wonderful labels given to your painful life 7. and lastly when you wake up, you wish you didn't.

Princesses Poop, Well They Do

Children amaze me. I find that in all ages they find just the way to say the "most appropiate things at the appropiate time". My daughter A is ten and has always said the most amazing things that blow me away. We were out to eat with my son C and my mother at the restaurant where it was time to ask for the check, my daughter drank her soda too fast had burped to which my mother replied "Do princesses do that?" Without a blink, A put on her sunglasses and said, rather loudly, "Princesses poop, they burp, they fart, and I am a princess." The couple in the booth behind us started to giggle, my mother was left speechless (for once), and I was left feeling very proud of the strong spirited princess beside me.

Addicted to Intervention (How Ironic)

So lack of sleep might be my issue here, but having a remote that keeps going haywire might be another. As I laid in bed I watched helplessly A&E Intervention while the little voice in my head mocked not just me but what these people were saying. I like to think because of the situations that that I have been in trying to get help for my loved ones that empathy would be a stronger suit as I watched (believe me it is one of my stronger qualities, as is being humble), but the arrogance and ignorance of these people was like rubbernecking as you pass a scene of a crash. People claiming to function as they stumble as family members monitor their intake of alcohol -what?! Was I seeing this correctly? Yes, I was. And marriages suddenly crumbling because of too much porn - umm any amount would equal too much, especially if you are starring in it, you think. Oh, I leave the best for last - a girl who slept around for money with a married man and suck on inhalants the whole time, it took others to finally tell them to call this man's family, to call the police, to have her institutionalized, the signs of brain damage written across her face and with statements as she asked her family members to go out to the car to get her drugs (the dusters) while she convulsed on the couch. Good thinking. Now what is this brilliant girl doing, oh, the classic borderline personality thing - with less then a year under her belt she is "helping others at a clinic". I love knowing that those that get into a field, especially mental health field are really just stepping over a line that they so desperately need in their own life to distinguish the "crazies" from themselves - yet so often I find it might be the other way around.

As if there isn't enough

I had to go to court today to get the man I live with off of a charge of second degree assault for beating me. Yeah- I know.. So, we have been together (way too long) 5/6 years (I don't count anymore - unless it is the days he will be away) and he has been losing his mind, breaking things, beating me, well, the cops got tired of it and pressed their own charges against him, which made him lose it even more and Of Course My Fault and I Have to Make It Go Away. So I did. As soon as we get back home, he goes upstairs and masterbates all afternoon, uhh, hello, people do you so what is wrong here?
1. I am still here
2. He is still free
3. He is clearly insane, a deviant, abusive (emotional, physically -not just on me but apparently himself the way he uses himself like he does), has anger issues, probably a pychopath/sociopath and thanks to the wonderful economy I am stuck.
I often find that the pattern of abuse circles around and around, normally it would take months before an incident, then it would occur once a month, then once a week, now multiple times in that week - Aren't I the lucky girl. There is nothing like learning abuse as a child and continuing it into your adulthood and as people look over and wonder why, it isn't as if you haven't done the same, made the same excuses, found different relationships that reared their ugly heads to reveal the truth that they were underneath the same. Therapy costs so much to have someone ask, "how does that make you feel" once a week and introspection has been a part of your life for twenty years, beginning before high school entered your life.
So I sit quietly, typing away onto a blog, while the house echoes with the slapping of his wrist and the full knowledge that I am the only sane one here. He is truly certifible. I can say over and over that I do not have the money to pay for an apartment on my own, even if I sold almost all my things - I do not want to go to a shelter- so where does that leave me. Right here, stuck, trapped, on a more serious note, dying with every stifling breath I take - I know he has poisoned me with "medication" snuck into food and drink and put a loaded gun to my head. Maybe I am like some others out there, resigned to their situation - tired and almost ready to die at any moment.