Tuesday, June 7, 2011
I have to move. I want to be clear that I don't want to move and I don't want to uproot my children from their home and possibly their school and friends because my husband make a poor decision. I find that I am filled with so much hate. I hate that his decision is effecting my life on so many levels. I hate that his mother talked us into selling our house and renting from her. I hate that I was part of the problem in our last house. I hate that I gave up and I hate that it all overwhelmed me. How do you clean when it becomes too much.
I hate that those that judge me now never thought to find out why. Though I don't know if I could have shared that with them back then. I hate that I was forced to move a year ago when I didn't want to. I hate that many of the things I loved where disposed of without care or though even after I was told that I had three more days to move them.
I hate living under the threats, but I accepted that. I worked hard to improve and I worked hard to save this crumbling marriage. Now it is all falling apart and I am metaphorically battered and bruised. My spirit is shattered and my heart aches. The only thing keeping me going is that I ned to be there for my children.
I found a house that I wanted to move us into. It had three bedrooms and a fenced in yard. There was even a screened in front porch. All the owned wanted was a reference from my landlord. There will be no reference, my landlord has no interest in helping me find another place to live. Not that I was expecting help, but I was expecting a little goodwill.
I am losing my home, I am losing my marriage and now I lost the home I wanted to move into. I went to my doctor's office yesterday to get anti-anxiety meds. So I am on yet another medication, but I finally got sleep last night. I started peeling skin off my feet again. I haven't done that since I lived home with my parents. I don't even know I am doing it until I start to bleed. I called my psychologist to start seeing him again. I know I can't handle this without help.
I worry about being on my own, I worry about not being able to find a safe place to live with my children. I worry that I will be like a zombie. I worry about so much! How much more can I take? When I think it is as bad as it can get more happens. Sometimes I wish I could sleep through it all, but that won't make it any better. I am going to find a way to get through this. I just keep telling myself that.