It seems some have noticed that I haven’t written lately. It’s flattering for sure. It’s nice to know you still check my blog to see what’s going on in my world, how I am, how things have been. But lately I have been midst a bunch of moral problems… and one of my biggest being… I stopped saying what I felt or what I was thinking because of who my blog may offend… who it may bother… who might be reading.
How stupid of me.
I’ve been sugar
fucking coating things for people my entire life. I grew up with a bitch of a best friend because no one ever told her no, told her that in reality the whole world didn’t revolve around her, or told her to cowboy up. Then 25 years later… I find I am still angry at the fact that she could be so dense… when in fact… all along… it was my fault for being silent. My fault for dragging people along…trying to help… when in reality they just want to sit and sulk in their pity party.
Puerto Rico had the opportunity on several SEVERAL different occasions to walk back in to my life. I would have let him. I thought I was in love with him. I thought it from the moment we started emailing back and forth in the spring of 2002. He captivated me. But just when things got tricky, just when he would have had to put in effort for me… he bailed. He walked away. Now he thinks randomly texting me every 3 or 4 months is okay. To say hi. To say he noticed I haven’t blogged. It’s not okay. You may also…go fuck yourself. I’m not acting like it doesn’t bother me anymore. It does. You gave up. You crushed me. Go away.
To my brother… it’s okay to love your family… even if we aren’t all as brilliant as you. I miss you. Terribly. You’ve always been one of my closest dearest people… and I feel like you have been emotionally cut off and dropped from the fucking planet. Come back. We have cookies. Seriously. You can’t change your family, so love us all anyway. Or don’t. But I wish you would.
To my children… you are exhausting little souls. I love being your mother, but dear Lord… I feel so friggin trapped sometimes. It kills me to think that I am someone who has feelings and wants and needs and yet my world always seems wrapped up in other people… in work, in kids, in what the FUCK ever… it’s exhausting. And it’s no one’s fault but my own.
I see this, because tonight I became angry with Russell… extremely… LIVID… for doing… what he enjoys doing. HA! That’s fucking nutty. And as I stood wanting to deck him in the face… I began to realize… it seriously isn’t him I am angry at. It’s me. I have even lost my blog because I didn’t feel like I could still be me. Too many people were reading. Too many toes would get stepped on. Too many people would get their feelings hurt.
I don’t care. Get your own damn therapy. This is mine and it works for me. Part of all my internal rage I know is due to the fact that I have not been writing. Not talking. Not opening the door on the bird cage.
My parents recently separated. They’ve been married for 31 years. Now they’re just not. I’m in shock. The two people who have always been there… through everything I’ve dealt with my entire life, are no longer… the same. I suppose this is so fucking daunting to me because 99% of the decisions I’ve made in life could be tied back to a small voice in the back of my head going, “I don’t want to disappoint them,” and now I feel like a small child lost in the middle of the mall… looking for them. When and if they find me, they won’t come looking together. My support team has been broken. Granted… it’s not all about me, it kills me how it’s affecting my mom… etc… but this blog isn’t about that. This post… this one is about me.
It’s about a choice, between xanax and running shoes… and it seems it will be a raging battle inside me… for many days to come.
But let me recap… Puerto Rico… my
life blog is no longer your concern. Dearest brother…. I miss the childhood version of you. Childhood best friend….well things change…. Russell…. it is all worth it…. Mom and Dad… WTF? And xanax…. here’s to you my dear. Here’s to you. God… what is going on down here?