Landlord Hell

Amazing. I am exhausted. What a ride the last few days have been. Right now I am fighting for something that I will inevetibly lose. I realize that the email contest I have been contending with the last few days is a mere class issue!
My landlord is Satan. She has evicted us and while I can't deny that we are rather bad occupants, I can't help but think she has some serious evil virus that compelled her to evict in the dead of winter, just before Christmas, during finals and I well, what a demon seed. I begged her, pleaded with her, promised her money and fresh smelling walls and carpets galore and yet...she hates me. I am sure that she has always hated me. I have more education than her. Yet, I lack the class because I have no MONEY. I am a drone in the legions of poverty. I am pinching and scraping every penny and peanut. I struggle to feed the children. I actually struggle with most everything and it all comes down to green, ultimately valueless, paper.
I am not going to win this war. Though I called her Satan, said she made a "trite business decision that tears at the very fabric of our lives," I lose. She could not possibly have less concern.
I am outta here!!!!!!! I do hope hoplessly that there is a landlord hell somewhere.

Tired. I am tired.

oh readers. I cannot believe how little I knew him. I feel raped. I was raped. He lies and I have become his sad, disgraceful ex-wife. I will never again be honest or loving. He must go and go now. He is disgusting. I hate him. I hate everything about him.
I don't even know where to begin. I don't honestly know if i can write it all. It makes me sick. I couldn't sleep last night and he gave me a zanax and then as I slept he raped me, told me that I was nothing and that it is only sex and don't I like that? And he did his job and left for God knows why and where and I was too fucking tired to care anyway. I had to take a test this morning and needed my sleep, and what is he to me anyway. This morning I read his texts on his phone and the myriad lies he is telling everyone. He told this girl that he is trying to fuck that I begged for him to come back. That I told him I loved him and wanted him back. I couldn't help myself. I wrote her back. I wrote, "I have no reason to defend myself to you, but what he writes you makes me ill. Makes me want to throw up. I did not say that to him. Why would I want to stay with a man that verbally abuses me and keeps himself flattened with poverty? I am going to puke now." And when he woke up I told him I wrote his lady and corrected things. He said, "What are you doing going through my texts on my phone?" And I laughed very hard at that one. The fucker has been going through my personal things for eight years now and he has the balls to say that. I told him so and that shut him up for a good, long while.
I hate him. I HATE that man. He is saying things now to hurt children and I told him that if he ever does anything like that again, I will never let him see the children ever again. He said this right in front Holden, Eric and Mia. "Why do you protect Max so much? You don't seem to care about the other kids like that." I later told him that any father that wants to make his own son doubt his mother's love should be found dead in a rotted sewer.
I hate him.
I hate him.
And so many more things that I cannot write here right now. I feel too exhausted. I am merely trying to survive right now. He has bounced the checks for rent, neglected everything and now the landlord wants us out. I wrote her and pleaded with her. I assured her that I respect her house and will make sure the rent is paid and the house is clean but I am so tired. I can only do so much.
I asked my mother if I could come and live with her so that I can save money and get on my feet and though she didn't flat out refuse, she said she would think about it and call me back. I haven't heard from her and I know that I won't. We are unwanted, my children and I. We are alone.

Laundry?

But now he folds the laundry for the first time. And apologized to everyone. And now I sit and write while feeling like shit.

Infernos

It went down like this:
Someone screamed. It was Eric, then Mia then Holden. Simoun goes out there and what I hear is this; You twisted his arm? You want to see how that feels? And then screams from Eric.

I came out and said, you didn't do it! You didn't twist his arm, did you? And that was the fight that ruined the night. That is not the first, nor will it be that last. Until all this ends. Until he leaves at last, when the finale comes and it is over.

I have endured another day of weird and tortured comments. All of us are unhappy. These nights run into each other far too often. Right now I wouldn't be too alarmed if it ended somehow, if some cosmic asteroid fed itself into the earth and we all became living infernos.

One of them hides under the table sobbing. One of them pulls the covers over his head. One of them keeps trying to help, tries to make it better. The other hides in her room with headphones and pretends it doesn't exist. I get angry and I say it all out loud. He furrows in his nest of filth in the room.

Then come the apologies.

Then come the abusive comments.

Then we all live another day.

Plant Man

Halloween this year was underwhelming. Simoun and I got into a huge fight. It ended with me telling the children to get into the car and Simoun tearfully apologizing. He has been verbally abusing me for days now, saying terrible things that make me shrug my shoulders and wish I were somewhere else, but hardly detrimental to my self esteem. It takes far more than that to hurt me. I always adhere to this philosophy: if someone says something just to hurt you, it shouldn't. When something is said accidently that hurts you, it should. So these names, this bullshit he has been panning out, I don't care much. But it gets old. It gets to where listening to his litany of names and self destructive detriments gets annoying. Adam came to see Max last night and Simoun sat on the couch and did all he could to hurt Adam. He said, "Amy, I put Max to sleep like you asked me to. I rocked him until he was fast asleep." Adam gave him a look of disgust and I was useless to respond. Simoun said it because he knows it hurts Adam. Adam loves that baby and wishes he were with him every night, rocking and loving him every night, and Simoun knows this. So, he hurt Adam where it counted the most. Which, by the way, has nothing to do with me. I am a mere vector. A bottle for Max. I am invisible.
Yet, here in my head, I lie awake and think about everything. How I am older now, how my body is loose and dimpled. How I have really done little to make myself worthwhile. I have not been living and now I face an unstable future. Simon and I are broken up. We are finished! And I am happy about that. He was on the phone tonight with one of his girls, talking about how they need to get together and talk even at 3 am and I felt nothing but a gratitude. I do want Simoun to be happy and we both know that I can't give him that. I don't love him like I used to. He has let me down. Let all of us down.
These days I don't even know if I can be with Adam. What would that be like? Me sagging, me succumbing to age and it's abuses while he is ten years younger and extremely desirable. I really cannot put myself through that. I don't have the strength. What I want is to not care about my skin, my weight, my graying hair. I want to be comfortable with myself and accept who I am. I do, really. Just that I don't feel it's good enough for a beautiful man ten years younger. I am no trophy. I am merely me.
I hate Simoun drunk. He rolled around in bed the other night saying, "Oh it's a good thing I am dying this year or early next. Oh I really fucked up my life. I didn't do anything with my life. I failed."
Oh Simoun. You did fail. You failed big.
But I don't say that. I would never say that. I only think it.

The Bad Teacher

Today was useless. I actually skipped class today to read my book. As pathetic as that sounds, it is even more pathetic that I didn't get that far in the book. Today was spent with Simoun. He has been here all day and I see him trying so hard to make things better but we have so many problems. Everything he says pushes my buttons. Just now, he sits with the baby and is saying things like: Mommy doesn't look at me but if I were somebody else she would. He is mumbling ot himself because he wants me to give him attention rather than write. I have been giving him attention all day and here he acts like a child.
ENOUGH talking about it. I feel bad for him and yet I cannot push the feelings away. He becomes obnoxious. He never chews with his mouth closed. He snores. He says things every other minute to annoy me, accuse me or simply to reject me. I try to talk to him and it is like talking to a nun. "I am God's chosen and do no wrong. You are the problem, dear, you."
On another note...or two...I feel my energy draining. I am trying to get up more, do more things, be more productive. The Army taught me that many more things can be done in a day than you can possibly imagine. So, I try. But there are days when depression saps me and I lie in bed for hours, sometimes all day, just to deal with the sadness that consumes me. Sometimes getting up seems too much. I will admit that today was very near one of those days. Very near. Adam was supposed to come over yesterday and he couldn't and really, it broke my heart. He can do that effortlessly.
Simoun and I have two years. Or less. We are breaking up! I can live again! One day I can live again. Because right now we are both miserable and hateful. Two years. Simoun is singing that to the baby. Two years, two years, two years. Gag.
We are exhausted now.
Mia's teacher called and says, "She is having trouble reading. She is not with her peers." I said, "She is sitting here reading with me right now and we were just talking about how great she has become." The teacher goes on to tell me Mia just can't seem to improve to another level and really I wanted to hang up the phone, get into my car, drive to the teacher's house and bitch slap the hag. Mia, having overheard everything, went into her bed, pulled the covers over her head and cried. Teachers are nasty antagonizers. I have had this experience before where I marched up to Eric's teacher and said, you shouldn't talk about him as if he is stupid while he is around. She said "sorry." But this time, it was just me standing there defending my beautiful daughter while her teacher continued to tell me how far behind Mia is and Mia caught wind of what was going on.
Poor Mia. Sometimes being a mom is heartwrenching.

Sleep, Panic and Him again.

Totally not feeling well. I hate nightmares. I feel I am still in them for hours afterward. I believe we all live nightmares just as we live everyday life. Dreaming is still living after all. While you dream, you live and you live a far more fantastic life than when you are awake.
But this is no good when you have a nightmare. The good thing about dreaming bad things and living bad things is that the dreams fade faster.
I am sick for him tonight. I just wish he were here next to me, with me, bound to me. I wish, I wish. Somedays it gets bad like this. The wanting. Like today when I am stuck in this aftermath of a nightmare because the minutes passing don't feel right. I think it's almost this faint though doubtful fear that I am still dreaming and what's real? Is this real? Was that real? This is the basis of my panic attacks. I have discovered something about them. The fear that grips me is death, just like others, but it is not a death of afterlife. It is this feeling of nonexistence. It feels as if there is a vast and meaningless nothingness and really, it is by far worse than when my nephew died, when Buffy died, when Geronimo left me that first time, when Adam was with Terri, it is worse because absolutely none of it matters. They do not exist either. Nothing does. Literally NOTHING exists. That fear can consume me and really, I wrote this poem years and years ago and Chell read it and he didn't understand it at all. I think I will try to find it and post it here. It is a very bad poem, of course, I wrote it when I was something of a preteen. But it puts the matter in words.
I had my first panic attack when I was 12. The doctor said it was growing pains. I remember it so well! I was reading scriptures and kneeling by my bed (nothing says horror like religion) and this feeling of nothingness swept through me. I will never forget it. In that same room, I saw monsters on the walls, lost my way in the dark and tried screaming bloody murder to wake someone up and open the door. I hate that room. I think I still dream about it when I dream about ghosts and fear. That time in the dark I was feeling around for the light switch, crying, sreaming and I knocked a picture off the wall and the corner of the frame hit me in the head. Hurt pretty bad.
Anyway, I miss him so much. He is so much a part of me. He is my life and my love. Always. He is the first person who I felt I could love as much as I love my own children. If I had him, I could be happy for the first time in my life.

SEVEN SUREWAY TO REPULSE YOUR LOVER

1. During sex repeat overt demands such as, "Look at it, look at it, you know you want to, just do it, just a little bit, come on, you know you want to."

2. During a serious conversation repeatedly ask moronic questions such as, "What baby?" or "What dishes?" or "You don't love my son like you do the others, do you?"

3. When your lover wakes up around 3 am slurp, crunch, suck and lick food items such as hot dogs, pineapple and cheese. Be sure to not stop eating until your lover has fallen back asleep. Add in a vociferous burp and fart.

4. After eating all night long, wake up and complain that your stomach doesn't feel right.

5. When offered alcohol, drink as much as you can, as fast as you can.

6. While your lover peacefully sleeps, consistently grab and pinch her boobs until she wakes up with horror and says, "What the hell were you doing?".

7. Scratch your balls incessantly throughout the night and then offfer the baby your finger when he cries.

He is Beautiful and I am a Hag

Why do I always get sick during school break? It makes me think of that horrible panic attack I had just after Holden. I remember thinking, I can't lose control because no one is here to take care of the baby. Then the second Simoun walks into the room a lever was shut down and my mind screamed: NOW. I had the worst panic attack of my life and only those who have had panic attacks can clearly understand what I am writing about. Breaks from school seem to go about the same way. Viruses are already in there, snoozing away, but as soon as break comes around KABOOM. They kick it in high gear. I know exactly what everyone thinks about this: It's the stress of midterms blah blah blah...and maybe that is true but I don't really give a damn. I just don't want to waste all my time being sick.
Adam looked like a god tonight. I was afraid to get too near him because I am sure he doesn't think the same way about germs as I do. I believe that any germ I get from one that I am obsessed with is a good germ.
Again, I have had serious doubt about things. I don't hear anything for days sometimes. I seem to fumble around when that happens, trying to distract myself but I always end up hurt and mad and sick to my stomach.
My love child is beautiful! How many women can brag that they have a love child? Not many. I took the chance and he is stunning, beautiful and I wouldn't take it back for anything. I would, however, take back the way I did it. Certain things, like the fact that there were many others at the time, and he could never trust me and he is too good, too godly anyway. There are too many things about him and someone else is bound to fall in love with him and he will return that love and then I am the old, lost hag. I hope not. I pray not. I don't pray at all, actually. Just hope.

Another Passive Agressive Punishment

What has he done now? He had a "talk" with the ex about me and now things are all fucked up. He did it to hurt me. I don't know what he said yet but all of it is horrible. He says it does it because he doesn't want other people to hurt me! Really? Because he hurts me more than anyone. He does it every way he can. Geronino wouldn't look at me. I didn't know he was here and I went downstairs to put in some laundry and he was sitting in Annie's room helping her with the computer. I said, "Oh, hi!" He glared at me and didn't respond. I nearly broke out into tears but made it into the laundry room to regain myself. I knew Simoun had done something. If I felt he had done something out of concern for me, I would be fine. I would be grateful. But he did something for the sole purpose of hurting me. He has done it enough times before. I asked Annie what happened and she doesn't know. I hate him. I have to fix another problem he created to hurt me. I told him we need to create a seperation plan, but of course I will do all the planning. He doesn't care enough to plan. We split up the bills (even though I don't have a job) and I paid mine and his money is gone and no bills are paid. I will have to pay them somehow. Like I always do.

Just another day, right? I really cannot stand Simoun. He is so difficult to be around. It's too much most days. Right now I wish I could take my children and move to another state, as far away from him as possible. I know that I have been in this relationship so long that I have given up a little. I have given up on ever getting away and Simoun and I can't stand each other. How do I change the way I feel towards him? I don't want him to touch me or talk to me or even do favors for me. I can't stand the way he says things, the things he does to seem good to himself, the way he fools other people into believing that he is something he isn't. At least he isn't to me. He is an embodiment of rage and discontent. He wallows in his pity. He can't move forward and I almost hate him. Almost. But not completely. I have a son that occupies so much of my heart that is part of him and that I can't deny.
BUT he is not a part of me anymore. I want to hide from him.
Here is how today has transpired. I have been content, reading, studying, cleaning. I take Holden to the park and I met a woman there. We talked about her job at the U, the job market (700 people apply every to jobs at the U) and her son who had a funny looking head but big, blue eyes. She says, "He is so cute and well, my niece is so ugly. I know most kids get cute eventually and blah blah blah..." She was interesting but a little insecure which means I could have become friender with her if I had more time. But I left to come home and Simoun wakes up. Holden is in the car crying because he wants an ice cream (he's so spoiled sometimes!) and what does simoun do? He comes into the kitchen and shuts the garage door. Slams it actually. I say-Simoun you can't leave a three year old crying kid outside by himself. So, he seems to feel a little guilty and calls Michael to come and get him. I already feel angry with Simoun and it has been less than three minutes since he woke up!
It gets worse. We end up screaming at each other over Max and he leaves call me a fucking bitch and says that I am the most evil woman he knows. Over. That's ten minutes after Simoun waking up. THAT is my life.
This is my life. For now. It can't last much longer.

It's almost amazing how my time skips and jumps between good and bad. A week ago I was under such duress that I felt the only way to cope was to sleep it away. For the last two days I have been high on life. In fact, I may be happier than I have ever been! Yet, trouble brews. I can feel it. It comes into the eyes of that ex-boyfriend I was talking about and how much, how very very much I want that ex-boyfriend to stay true to his girlfriend, soon to be wife. I know that I will feel obligated to whatever he wants and I KNOW how stupid that is and I KNOW that it gets nowhere-that kind of "pleasing." I have done it before and I look back with so much shame and embarassment. What will I say if he wants me to come over to his house? Oh, I know all the people out there who are thinking, "Well, you tell him no, of course." But really? Really? I can't!
Here is another thing. He was here a couple of days ago and I had stood him up (to his perception. Really I forgot and was drowning in midterms) and he was cruel and vicious.
I will tell him no. There is only one person in the world I want. Everyone else is pollution.
Time to think.
I worship that man. The man. The one. Not many find such a one. I live for him and will die loving him.

Tact

I keep letting myself go back and I should stop now. There are ways-like losing weight-it will take some self sacrifice but it will be good in the end. It is the end I am worried about. There will come a day when He leaves, goes his own way, perhaps he is already, and one day it will all come out and I can only imagine the devastation. It will be horrific! It will be more than I am willing to go through ever again. I just don’t understand why he owns my heart and soul like this anyway. I will venture to guess that had I the chance to spend a life with him it would have been agony.
Tonight I spent time with an ex-love. It is always a strange experience. At first I stand away. I feel reluctant to come near him-but as the time passes, I find myself touching him more and getting closer. It’s natural. There is a force lying dormant in my head, all the old feelings, and they force their way through after an hour or so. I did love him after all. I had a child with him and when we last spoke fifteen years ago, it was painful and full of regret. I did not believe he loved me, that anyone could love me, and I have found after all these years that he did.
And I suppose I feel the same way now! Toward the one. I feel he doesn’t and in truth, he doesn’t. I keep the lie alive because I cannot tear myself away but I know the ending of this saga! I must break away now. Excruciating!!!

The Plant Man

I am wickedly unhappy tonight. I am confused about everything. Unsure of what or who I want. Where I am going. I can't seem to focus on anyone or anything. As if I have unpacked my suitcase but have nowhere to put my things. Because I sometimes, most times don't want to be here. I want to be with him but most days I hear nothing from him and I can't help but think: if he really cared...if he really loved me, he would write. He wouldn't be able to help himself. That's how I feel.
My dad writes and says; Amy, be good to Simoun. When you say things it hurts him. When you disregard him, it hurts him. I think, I know that dad. I know. Why does no one watch out for me, dad? What about all the times he hurt me? What about my life that he's wasted? Because he can't pick up the pieces of himself that were loosened all his life and now he can't move anywhere. He sits idly, cutting plants, feeling sorry for himself and my life....my goals have had to change in order to meet his deficiencies.
What about that.
I know I have made some bad decisions with my own life, but I am still here and still hold my dreams close. Most days I feel they will remain just that; empty, unfulfilled dreams, but then when something changes, when I glimpse myself living another life, a tangible change, I know this is not fate but rather a malleable, unmolded world.
I wonder though if I don't believe that HE is that key. Is it HE I depend on? He who never writes. Who I will always love and never have. Yes! I believe that's it. Otherwise, my life stupidly, placcidly moves along.

The Bishop

Well then. The euphoria never lasts long. It comes and goes before I know what has struck. So, I began my descent back last night. I am certainly not so certain that all is doom, hahaha, but I am certain that happiness is purely mythical. I suppose it seems that way for most people. I have never really known anyone who confesses to happiness. There is always something to be unhappy about, right? Anyway, when you are mostly a stay at home mom, confined in a house that swarms with dust and bugs and loud, buzzing noises, there are many little things to cause consternation.
Given that and the fact that there is a perpetual cloud of doom named Simoun spewing out sighs and grievances whenever he can, life does take a nosedive.
This man across the street, he bitterly detests me. He has seen Adam at my house and he loves Simoun. Maybe he views Simoun as one who needs to be saved, which he is! And the man across the street was a bishop of the Mormon church...

Those people. The people. Him.

I love him more than anything I have ever loved before. I know bliss. I know what it is to love someone more than life, more than anything. He will always be my truth and without him, I believe I cannot exist anymore but would wither away into the dry, bitter earth that is reality without love.
But it can be dreadfully painful. I live a double life, really. While my thoughts are always wrapped around him, I live outside in the everyday world. He is my mind and my soul but I live most days without his touch. It devastates me and sometimes I am irreconciably melancholy.
It was a good day. I got my birthday wish and I learned so many things. In the class I am taking, I always walk away with my head in the clouds. It targets the questioins that have morally and even physically agrravated me since childhood. It's funny how sometimes you meet people and immediately know there is a kinship. I felt that way with Adam and I felt that way with my professor. She is incredible and has been through unbelievable experiences with the church. To know her personally feels too good to be true. It's like knowing the queen of England or something.
I would say that the two most influential people I have ever known I have met in these last two years. Well, wait. Jen is one as well and I have known her over 5! Anyway, these people are utterly priceless to me.
Am I writing me and I too much? I believe so.
But the blog is about me, right? So, maybe that's okay. This isn't a blog. This is my public journal that I really suspect will never be read by anyone. But there is so much pleasure in just opening this page and seeing my writing so prettily solid on the page. If I died tomorrow, this would be far more tangible than the 7 or so diaries that lie on the shelves downstairs.
I suppose that's enough for one day. I just love him. I love him more than I have ever loved anyone. And it feels good to tell the world-though no one listens.

Today and tomorrow and tomorrow

Little things. Little things make me miserable. Little things that pile up and make an enormous mountain! Here is the poem I wrote in class today:

I am dead already
Not a sinew moves
Perhaps a twitch here and there
now and then
It's your golden finger
Your listless love
That presses shards
Into what's already dead
Let me free
From your flaccid arms.

Well, that's utterly unedited and really, I am never going to revisit that poem so the suckiness will stick. Anyway, it's a purely emotional jam. Nothing real maybe.

Every day is this day

Well, let me begin by compiling a list of wrongs:
Brooke dumped her kids on me and I had a difficult assignment due. Simoun left, leaving me alone with 8 kids (there were 12 before) and I was attempting this assignment full of shit I can't remember or seem to employ properly. Michael hits the baby's head on a metal bar and the baby screams while I try to tell the other kids to get their pajamas on (they don't listen). After some point I scream because no one will listen. Josh is downstairs crying because his mom is taking too long. She left them here for a "booty call" who said something about him being premature because she was just too tight like I give a damn. I really don't care about the elasticity of her nethers and furthermore, I really don't want to hear it since I have six children myself and those words are ancient history for me. Bitch.
Well, then my boyfriend of eight years...let me begin a new list....
Screamed at me for being mad that someone let thirty nasty flies in the house.
Embarassed me in front of his boys because of it (very very common theme)
Got upset because Adam is taking his baby and I said it's a better atmosphere for children than tight Brooke's dirty house
Screamed at Eric for taking something he didn't.
He hates me. He loves me. He mostly hates me.
And I hate this life of mine. If I had known, if someone had given me a wink or a sigh that indicated the shit that was to become my future, I would have killed myself long ago. But it's too late for that now. I must stay here and put up with an angry bastard, love another and be perpetually walked on by my drunk and incompetent neighbor.
And now back to my studies. My brain rejects the information I am attempting to put into it. But at least I am dumping something into it.

I do this because I never write these days and I don't feel myself. There is a warehouse of emotion in my head with nothing to do but rust and fester. Vermin. Vermin in my head. I suppose if anyone should blog, I should. There is enough to write about given the misjudgements (not really misjudgements, just bad descisions) I have experienced. I want to write more. I want to live again. At the moment I float in a limbo of sorts. A place with no resolution but perhaps daily doubts and pains. The first thing I must put down is that I want what this is to end. I want him to leave me so that I can move on. I must move on with the one person who is filled with enough hate to fill the souls of a legion, but I have built so much life around him. I don't love him much these days but perhaps I can again. I want to be free. I want to believe in life again, though this time with less trust and more sincerity.
Here I can write the one name that throws me into panic and hopelessness. Ah, Alexis. I do wish you would leave this scene of mine. Forever.