Tuesday, August 13th, 2013

I have gone six months in this journey. Six months of emotions and general depression, anxiety, worry and fear. And I have finally made the doctor appointment to get medical help with my crazy mind. I just cannot compose my thoughts or contain my emotions the way that I feel I need to at this point. But who is really to say? These things are just not something that happen to people. There just isn't anyone in my circle that can remotely relate. So should I have been on medication this entire time? Should I wait longer? Do I really truly need to medicate myself?
Yes.
I have decided that since every little thing will set me over the edge and make me fall into a million pieces and I can no longer cope with everyday tasks, then yes. It is time. Because you know what? That horrid smell in the garbage should not reduce you to a million tears.
So far I am having to rely on a sleeping agent to just help me turn my brain off at night so that I can sleep. A lovely side effect is reduced dreams. I wonder if I can find a magical pill that can just turn my brain off during the day. Wouldn't it be nice to take a pill that predetermines what you are aloud to think of? I could be such a wealthy woman if I could invent something like that. I mean, that's where the big business is right? Haha...
The monster had ten more felony charges placed against him. Ten! I cant even imagine. He was supposed to get out the end of this month. And thankfully that will not be happening. But for whatever reason when I found out that more charges were finally being placed over his sick head, it was like I was kicked in the stomach. It was like it was happening all over again. WHY? Why did it even matter at this point? He was already in jail. It wasnt like he was being ripped out of my family again. I wasnt going through losing my home again, or having to show my face at work while everyone followed me with their eyes. So why did it effect me like it was the fist time again?

Hmm..Let me go ahead and analyze this like the woman without her pills can do so well. Because he was your husband. The man that you took vows to. The man that was supposed to hold your hand when you were sick, and tell you that everything was going to be OK. The father of your children. Their protector. Your best friend. The man that you shared your home with, and was supposed to die next to in a sweet embrace. It was a kick into the chest that knocked all the wind out because in brief little moments you have realized this man is not who you married. You have no blooming idea who he is. You look in the mirror and realize, who the fuck are you? This man sat downstairs and stared at a computer screen (The same computer that your own fingers touched and browsed the internet with) and looked at child porn. Then during the day would molest your son. And at night, when he was all good and done with these deeds he would come and snuggle up to you in bed. He would wrap his arm around you and make you feel like all was right in the world, when sweetie, nothing was right. And nothing IS right in this world.

I assume that these scenes of my life are why the wind was knocked out of me. And I stared into that mirror and felt damaged, disgusting. A used up, abused piece of trash. I still look in that mirror and feel that way. I hardly think that will go away. Especially since I have this bright idea that hey, I know I'm not in love with this monster any longer, and I'm lonely so lets go try to date and get more damaged by constant rejection and judgement. That sounds like a fantastic idea! I guess my (very few) horrid dating experiences can be saved for another time. Or another blog entirely since that seems to be quite the subject on its own. I mean, come one. Seriously? Dating. It fucking sucks. And I am no good at it. I've been told recently. Many times. Two thumbs up!