Maybe its safe to say...

I'm slowly dying. That stress has reached a peak where its physical effects outweigh the emotional.

He's lost all respect for me. Because I haven't kicked him out. And k out up with his shit and still love him, almost unconditionally. 

I'm ready to give up. Because this all seems pointless and it hurts far too much far too many times, for far too long. 

This could be the end. A sour beginning of something that's not me. And a sweet hello to something that will destroy me entirely. 

I wonder what I've done wrong?

I'm very tired today. I find it so odd that every time I get paid somehow, some way I end up being more stressed. I guess it's because I have to take care of bills and I'd rather just avoid them.

I think If I had just enough money to get everything done, this includes little things like laundry and toiletries, then I'd be happy. It's not having enough money and stressing about how I'm going to make an inch stretch a mile that's driving me insane. I'm not comfortable with that.

So this morning when I realized that my check was well below my hopes (not my secret expectations mind you) I started off by advising L of the current financial situation. And he promptly proceeded to shut me down because he didn't want to hear about it.

Basically, I explained to him that I wouldn't have enough money to pay the rent...
(I honestly wanted his feedback on what he thought we should do.. pay some of it? Find out if I could make arrangements? I was just tired of being burdened with all of these "what if's?")
and he got upset and told me to just pay the rent and now worry about everything else like laundry (mind you it's been almost 3 weeks since laundry has been done because the laundry money went to other thing that it shouldn't have. I told him that I might not have enough for event that. And again he proceeded to shut me down stating that he didn't want to know and that I should just pretend he wasn't there.

I broke down. Because all I wanted was to not have to carry this stress by myself. I wanted some type of feedback or support, even if it's emotional. I just wanted reassurance that everything was going to be ok, and that he'd be working just as hard to figure it out. But I didn't get that, because that's not the type of person he is. So here I am 2 steps away from death. Feeling nauseous as fuck and a migraine the size of Africa. (I hope I'm not pregnant, but this has been the 4th day in a row I feel like this).

I'm ready to tell him to pack his things and leave. Because at least if he's not going to be bare minimum emotionally supportive then he's only bringing me down. He thinks I should pretend he's not there, when I think he just shouldn't be. I'm fed up, and there's but so much a girl can take. I've done nothing but supportive and patient with him and he cannot afford me the same. I never make decisions like that on an emotional bend so I'm giving myself the day, maybe even the weekend, to mull it over. I'm not sure if I'm in the right state of mind, considering all this stress, but it's probably the closest I'll get to right at this point. I'd like to go home and sulk about this on my couch but I cannot.

I'm broke and it's only getting worse and I don't know what to do and I'd like to stop being stressed and I just want to curl up in a ball or run away to Australia or finish this sentence but I cannot because my  emotions are bubbling up inside me and I swear I'm going to explode at one point or anther and the holidays are coming up and you know how I get around that time and I just wanted this year to be better and easier, which makes me rethink kicking L out because that would put a rift in the holidays, maybe for new years, ok, I really need a period.

My lunch hour is coming up soon, but I don't feel like eating. I'm thanking the Goddess in my head that the phones are quiet today and that no one is really coming to the window today. What a blessing. I think I could be on the verge of an anxiety attack. I'm shaking and I can't really concentrate. Which is why I'm writing this. I'm sure no actual work is going to get done today. This sucks. This really sucks.

Well, I at least need to finish making those calls ....

I also realized - mid rant- that I've gotten fed up with a lot of things in my life. I've slowly stopped talking to my best friend because I just don't want to. Which upsets me, because I wish I could talk to someone but I don't like whining, I like solutions and at this point no one has been able to offer me that so I just stopped asking.

My irritability and emotionalism has lead me to believe that something is wrong with me, but maybe it's just the stress or the bipolar disorder or even the lack of menstruation that I've been experiencing for months because of this damn IUD.

Wow, this is a really long post.

I hate going on a rant about all the bad and stressful things in my life but it seems as though that's all I have. I think that sucks more than anything. I want more than this.

Why I've come to HATE the Holidays

Yes, I've said it. I despise the holidays...
And not because I don't believe in them, or the idea of family, down time, or mass consumerism. But because its come to mean something different to me.

There used to be a time when I loved the holidays. Even though we lived in the shelter, in some one else's home, or in our car we were together and a family. And that was enough for me.

But since I've had my daughter or rather since she's came into my life... its a bit more complicated.

Lets go over how this came to be...

About 3 years back, our first Christmas out of the shelter was uneventful. It was depressing and stressful for whatever reason. I can't really recall that Christmas clearly. I felt tides changing, but I couldn't pinpoint what was changing.

Next Christmas I was pregnant. Although I was not yet aware. I was in the first few months that is characterized as "you're-losing-your-fucking-mind" trimester. I spent that day, at someone I did not knows house, followed by partying all night in a club. I was fucking loony. And that my first taste of "I hate Christmas".

Then comes Olivia, and that Christmas managed to get fucked up because I spent it in a mental hospital. Just days prior as I wallowed in postpartum depression and undiagnosed bipolar disorder the world flipped upside down, and I chased my infidelity with a slit wrist. Once again, loony... are you sensing a pattern here? Because I am.

Then, finally this Christmas. Familial pressures everywhere, shelter lifestyle, no money, stress and depression. I smelt a breakdown coming along. Until Christmas eve comes and too many shots of tequila makes him into a monster. I don't recall doing anything, and neither does he. I do recall the sting that followed a swift slap to the face. The air rushing out of my lungs as my windpipes were constricting. Nothing I did could make it stop, and I myself couldn't avoid/stop it. This time I wasn't the loony one.

I had never been a victim. Never considered myself one, and Im still unsure if I am. I just know it hurt. The angry words followed by the vindictive hands. I've never felt so weak. I cried, until I couldn't. I yelled until I was too scared to do anything but just stand there. And at some point in time even that angered him.

He has NEVER been like this before. What happened??!!?? We'll never know.

He didn't stop until we gained the interest of the dutiful security guards. I was paralyzed so I nodded everything was fine, and I let him guide me into the shower once they left. The rest of my night was plagued by nightmares and his apologies. He swore to never do it again. But he's never done it before. He doesn't even know how he got to that point in the first place.

So how can one control the unknown?? I'll never know...

So this is why I despise the holidays. Its been bringing out the worst on me. Its rained the shittiest parade and Im left to pick up the fragmented streamers of my life. Every single fucking time.

And I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I don't know what to do. Im stuck. Frozen. In that frame of mind.

My hope is that my soul will heal as my wounds will. And I can pack my pessimism away until next time.

Until next time.

I don't know what

I'm at the pinnacle, the precipice of I don't know what. 

I can't call this stress, or anger, or depression because its more like a mixture of all of that. 

I told my best friend the other day I'm like the human form/manifestation if a bruise. 

Literally, it's like I'm  sensitive to everything...everything...EVERYTHING! 

And at this point everything is so askew on all aspects that I can't even begin to make sense of it, or to muster up the energy to deal with it. 

Where has my life gone? Where is it taking me? These lessons that I'm learning through pain have not provided me with the ability to make changes. 

We've got to move by August 1st. So by next week. 

We have no prospects what so ever. We put some money into a realtor, but with our particular mix of shitty backgrounds we only qualify for one apartment. And it's more than we were looking to spend on rent. But it's our only hope at this point so we're gonna check it out. But we haven't even seen the place yet. I just hope that it's worth it's exorbitant price. 

NYC rent is rape I tell ya. 

As well, we'd still need the money to move in. Which is currently non existent. So it's looking like we're going to have to borrow. I'm putting all my faith in my mom, but I can't totally depend on her..

And because L hasn't been working its up to me and my overdrawn acct. 

 We're between a rock and a hard place. 

I'm up shits creek. 

Where is life's divine lesson? How does it end? Who determines that? 

Because I'm feeling pretty powerless.