Adam is out of Jail again and I have hardly heard a word from him.  Given that I am coming to an astonishing realization that he is a true psychopath, maybe that's okay.  It bothers me that he isn't contacting me...but I also feel a fragile freedom. FRAGILE freedom. 

PAXIL sucks.

Today I had a borrower deceased call and I hate those.  It was a mother whose 26 year old son had died and she could hardly talk.  I had to ask her horrific questions such as...."where was the funeral home" and "what date did he die" and "what city and state" and so on and so forth.  It is excrutiating.  I could hardly contain my quavering voice and the tears.  I hate those calls.  The mother sounded as much as dead herself.  I cannot imagine the grief.  I don't want to. 

I also haven't been taking my wonderful, wonderous, ever-helpful PAXIL which always tends to make me bleary eyed and over-emotional. 

PAXIL WITHDRAWALS:

Crying
Shaking
Quivering guts
Vivid dreams (with excellent story lines)
Rapid, disconcerting thoughts
Nervousness and severe anxiety...wait...that's normal
Inability to control emotions that are already overwraught and dramatic (see above)
Fatigue.  Terrible, terrible fatigue

In short, I need to go home and take that godforsaken remedy for OCD and panic that I have suffered from my entire life.  I thought about possibly telling those stories because it might help people.  The way I suffered from OCD when I was young.  It was devastating.  It was unlike anything anyone could imagine without actually suffering through it. 

Back To Jail

He has to check in today.  He says he will probably be released tonight.  But...damn if my heart doesn't just sink.  Like a ton of sappy bricks.  I know.  sickening.  Why do I love this man so much? 

Weekend Thoughts

I didn't sleep one wink last night and here I am at work....feeling as though I sound strange and slurred.  I have to think about things a little too hard.  I didn't sleep because the pressure of all of this is a little overwhelming.  My car...still dead.  Adam went and worked on it yesterday for hours and I sat in the hot sun watching cars go by and thinking about how crappy his dad's car looked beside my own crappy car and how Adam's dad can't really walk or stand actually and yet he was working so hard to fix my mostly unfixable car.  And Adam, I found the door of my back seat basically removed and then a screwdriver...where he had tried breaking into my car when his drugs were still in there. So, I was feeling angry the whole time and thinking about what an idiot I am (I seriously am).  But I need that car.  And I need a place to live. 

So, last night (here comes the idiot part) Adam was sleeping over....not with me though...because we weren't exactly on speaking terms and we are both up the whole night.  Finally about 4 am I go into the front room where he has been sleeping with his shirt off (sorry but I love those broad beautiful shoulders) and we have it out.  All of it.  His being with the ubiquitous Alexis the whole time we were together and he says it's all my fault because of all my men (I do have a lot).  But the problem is that....he has nothing anymore.  NOTHING.  No television, no internet, no...well, nothing.  His grandmother moved out of the house and took everything with her.  I feel sorry for him and his father.  His dad has nothing and nobody.  I see this look Adam gets in his eyes and it's just pain.  He is in so much pain.  It hurts me so much to see it even though he has caused so much to so many. 

I am tired. 

Me and Max.

Last Post

After that horrifying last post, I found this poem I wrote and while it's not very good, it was written right from the gut. 

Here is this child
No longer mine
Because he cries for daddy
and smells of sausage and cigarettes
He was 1/7th of my heart
Now he is 3/4ths. 

I want the hand of death
to walk into the tunnel together
Because HE shred my soul
this time.  Eternally. 
I no longer belong in the light
or the dark. 

And BTW-HE is not God.   Oh no.  I have no faith.  HE is adam.  Who is akin to the devil.  That I don't believe in either. 

What I Always Wanted to Hear..Until Now

Adam and I talked.  He says, "I love you more than anything.  I am so sorry."  Don't get me wrong, though, it did make me feel warm and gooey.  It's just that....I am trying to move forward with my life and that shit...that shit he did was more than a little debilitating.  Now, though, he says he wants to fix my car.  He wants to make it right.  In truth, how great would life be if he were normal and stable and good?  Life would be near perfect.  But regretably, the chances of that happening are slightly scewed. 

So, I am going to write something quite terrible and quite unspeakable.  Once I write this, I promise not to visit it again.  But, during my walk yesterday to the store (since i have no car and no food in the house) my thoughts wandered and then stayed on a certain, shameful subject.  My thoughts stayed there for so long that I bcame mortified and almost...bored. 

It is no surprise to anyone that I do not like being alive.  That I hate life.  That I find no reason, no purpose and no real happiness.  I feel that while I have too much sympathy, even empathy for others, it is indeed a rare and impossible trait in others.  When I have been at my worst and deepest desperation, no one, no one is there and no one to make me care.  I have lived through some terrible things...and not to bring back the past, but losing Max for that time was like suffering the death of my child.  The pain was excrutiating.  I remember lying on the floor at nights, unable to sleep, holding my sotmach and crying with abandon because the pain was so intense and overpowering.  I remember waking up with such terrible stabs of anxiety that I could not get out of bed for hours, if at all.  I remember wanting to die so badly and knowing that I could not take away a mother from my children.  I suffered everyday and when I would talk to people about it...they were so distant and for them the reaction was this:  you have so many.  Let this child go.  How much that hurt.  How many tears I spilt.  How I learnt that life is cruel and unfeeling.  Everyone.  Even those who alledgedly love me the most. 

I still want to die.  I still do not want to be here.  I know that i am a failure.  That although I am only 38, my skin is looser, my face is sadder and with wrinkles and other skin defects, I have no accomplishments to be proud of, I have nothing more to offer.  I know that once men fell in love with me competely and wholly and now I could win a man only by being my nice, fake self full of life (that I hate) and fun and display my sweet and explosive happiness.  If I were a man, how worthless would I be?  I have a relatively low paying job and while I have an education....it is worthless (in so many peoples lives.  It has enriched my life significantly but made me no money to speak of).  I am a failure as a mother.  My kids are fantastic but Holden should be reading by now.  Mia should be better in school.  Eric should be fostered and led into a better direction.  It's not enough what I do.  It's never enough. 

I know this is why I stay with Adam.  He doesn't love me.  He never will.  But no one does.  Kurt took me home yesterday and acted like a dick because I did not want to have sex with him.  Asshole.  I hate that.  I hate people with sex problems and I won't deal with it.  Not again. 

Adam doesn't have that problem. 

I am sad.  I hate my body.  I hate myself.  I hate and hate.  And am ready to leave this place.