History repeats itself

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bdaycakeruined

 

 

I am not getting what I want.  I am not giving him what he wants. So the rest of my life will be?  will be what?? I am upset again, or I should say still.  How do you forget a birthday? Absolutely no effort extended on his part, because he was busy? Because he did not know what to get me? Are you fucking kidding me? How about the email I sent you? Could it have been any easier? and you do not get your wife a leaf blower, or at least that is not all you get your wife.  NEVER GET YOUR WIFE/girlfriend/finance an appliance, or anything useful without getting another gift that is the main gift.  So how many birthdays is this so far that Mr. W has fucked up? or should I say how many holidays is it? So my last birthday he fucked up, Christmas he fucked up, New years he fucked up, Valentines day he fucked up and now my birthday.  I am so angry, and disappointed and just fucking done. I make plans, I make people feel special ON THEIR BIRTHDAY, and what do I get?  nothing.

I  am so sick, of being the better person, or putting out all my effort and getting nothing back.  I am so sick of understanding and accepting less than. So I consistently accept less than, and understand, and get hurt.  Can you say repeating my fucking pattern?!?!??!! How do you fix this? Why the fuck should I have to fix anything? I did not do anything wrong.

Here is my jist of why my birthday got ruined.  Because Mr. W was jealous, because I could not call him when he wanted me too.  Sunday, my birthday day, W goes to work, I get up have some coffee, which I make myself ( thanks to no one) and sit in my big green chair.  I am not sure what the day holds but I am meeting with the Dog sitter to go over things for the wedding weekend.  AND I DO NOT EVEN HAVE A DOG!!!  So I waste my whole birthday morning doing things for other people.  FUCK ME, I AM a God Dam loser. After getting my daughter’s boyfriends dog, and having to babysit him, I address the dog sitter and wait for my sons to tell me their plan for the day.  I end up getting birthday presents from my kids, not wrapped and at their convenience, at least they remembered my birthday.  I end up running errands and helping everyone else, then W texts me and asks me to call him.  I am in Target, buying bras, or trying to buy bras that may work with my wedding dress.  I am with my sons, texting my daughter due to her work problems, etc.  I text W telling him that I am at Target and will call him once I am home, and after the boys ship off.  Is that OK? is anything wrong?  His response is ugh. I call him when I can, and he does not answer.  So he comes home, walks in, does not talk to me, and proceeds to do stuff at the table, ignoring me.  I make my own dinner of left overs, and make his dinner.  We eat next to one another silently, I put on a movie, I clean up the dinner, get a left over cheesecake with two forks, eat that as my birthday cake, and we do not talk.  When the movie is over, I go upstairs to bed, he packs and leaves, giving ME ATTITUDE because I am not saying goodbye.  HUH???  ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME. It is MY birthday, and you are giving me attitude.  You are being a dick, and I will not allow you to manipulate me into cow towing to you.  Go FUCK YOURSELF.  So W is mad that I did not call him because I was with my kids and did not put him first.  That is what I got out of it, and I may be wrong, but he is not talking.  I texted him to ask him why he fucked up my birthday and I get silence.  Then later in the day excuses, I do not need excuses. After writing this all out, I am disgusted, I am getting used again by a man. I am getting ignored again by a man. I am getting fucked. I am sick of this. So know how do I get out of a wedding that is 4 days away?

No present, No card, No cake, nothing. He fucking gave me nothing. Asshole. Made me feel like shit, made me feel like I was wrong for expecting something on my special day. Made me feel like I was WORTHLESS on my fucking birthday.

 

 

One month ago, my dog died.  One month from today, Fuck my life

 

 

Clipped

clipped

I am tired, so fucking tired.  I cannot think, I cannot do anything, I am exhausted. I seem to be stuck in this state.  I am getting married ( well maybe) in 5 days, you would think I would be excited.

I am not.  I am exhausted.

Too much to do, everyone calling me, no one helping me. It was my 50th birthday on Sunday. I planned a lot for Saturday and then on Sunday, I got shit on. Why fucking bother? Why do I fucking bother to have good days.  I do not want to depend on anyone, and yet here I am.  And here I am disappointed. Another Birthday ruined, another year gone by, and another disappointment. I give the fuck up. No one lives up to my expectations, and no one gives me what I give them.  FUCK EVERYONE.  I want to be alone. No wonder I drink so much, I am a loser, and I am meant to fail.  I am sick of trying.  I am sick of being everyone’s giver. I am sick of getting nothing in return. I am done. I am done.

I am sick of bending my boundaries to accommodate others. I want to just be selfish, and not do anything for anyone. I hate my life. I hate where I am. I hate everything. I want everyone to leave me the fuck alone. I do not want family, I do not want friends, I do not want anything in my life therefore dogs cannot die, friends cannot leave, husbands cannot disappoint, and family does not say one thing and do another. No one does my laundry, no one does my dishes, no one buys my groceries, no one plans anything for me.

FUCK EVERYONE

I AM BETTER OFF ALONE, WHY HAVEN’T I LEARNED THAT YET.

 

November First

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bridewoods

 

I do not know where my head is at today, but it seems to be in a bad place.  Maybe not bad, but certainly not good. I seem to be stuck in the past and I seem to want to be there.  Is it K?  Is it my milestone Birthday that is on Sunday? Is it the wedding? How do you think of the second wedding without the first? But I am not thinking about the first wedding, at least not in the regard of my Ex, but the wedding itself.  I had an album of what I wanted for my wedding and their is a picture of a bride outside in the forest among the trees which still stays with me.  I bet I could find it if I tried, actually I can see the album in my minds eye presently, I may add it later to this post.

I always wanted to get married outside and in 8 days I will be.  I sure hope the weather holds up. I am trying to be so chill about my upcoming wedding, and it seems to be working, but I have this underlying anxiety.  I think that is what is bothering me, why do I have anxiety?

I feel very comfortable with Mr. Wonderful now, and I am not doubting the relationship at every turn, like I was. I like that, it feels nice, so the anxiety is not coming from that.

I am apprehensive about my ex BFF coming to the wedding and I actually am dreading that, but again I am trying not to think about it. I am not at the weight that I want to be at, but I have cut down the calories and will continue for the next 8 days.  I am worried about money, but there is not much I can do about that, at least in the present moment.

I am upset about K, and I still cry daily, usually in the car, or at work. I cannot talk about him without getting upset. I am drinking too much and I do not like that.  Maybe that is what is gnawing at me from the inside.  I need to go to the gym, I need to take care of myself, and as of right now, it is all crazy wedding plans.  It sure would be nice to relax.

Today I am going to get lash extensions.  I have been going back and forth about this since I thought of getting them. I did do the trial run to make sure I did not have a reaction to the adhesive, and I didn’t. So today after work, I will get the full set put on, it should take 2 hours. I do feel a bit guilty about spending the amount of money on them, but I am a bride right? Shouldn’t I be able to splurge a bit? I would not think twice about it, if it was for my children, but I go back and forth for weeks when it comes to spending money on myself.  I guess that is the life of a Mom.

So basically I do not know what is wrong with me, but something feels off.

 

Ending October

redoak

 

I do not want this month to end.  I do not want it to be any month but October, why?

Cause this was my last month with my baby, K

going into November will be the first month without my K.  It will be a month that I will not have him to hold, or hug, or snuggle, it will be a cold November.  I hold on to things like that, I am acutely aware of things like this, maybe not even on a conscious level, but it is there.  The song “Goodbye” by of all people Post Malone comes on and I am a wreck.  I am no good at goodbyes, I am no good at letting go. Guess that is my lesson to learn in this lifetime, how to let go.  Isn’t that sad? Is all of life just letting go? Doesn’t everything just die anyway? People, phases of life, animals, everything. I miss my dog so much sometimes, it is like being whacked by a huge oak tree.  I would like to just sit down by that oak tree, and wait for K.

Dream world

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dreaming

My dreams have been out of control, long, vivid, colorful.  I have been dreaming for weeks now, and that is very odd for me.  Half the time I use to not remember them and now I can hold onto them for weeks. So I have finally had a dream of the salesman, and the question I have is:

If you die in an altered state, i.e. mania, depression, do you remain in that state in the afterlife???

I did not think that would happen.  Raised a good Catholic girl, when you die, you are free, you can choose what stage in your life you want to appear as, and you are again one with your soul. So I would assume that you would be in your correct mindset, but what if you are not.  Could a soul be stuck in an awful state?

I watch a lot of paranormal shows, and sometimes their are a lot of “spirits” that are not in their right mind.   And in my dream last night, the salesman was not in his right mind, he was not bat shit manic delusional paranoia, but he we coming down from a manic episode, still had racing thoughts and still was not thinking right.  He was spending money like it did not matter, and he bought a house.  Two mortgages! I was just back into my wife version, trying to divorce him, trying to stop the hemorrhaging of money, and trying to break away from him.  We were in a hotel somewhere, he was in and out of my dream.  I remember walking down a hallway, I took off my wedding ring, and was rolling it on the floor.  I was by the hallway end and it turned to the right, their was someone else their as well, but no one I knew, it may have been one of the salesman’s old bosses? I was going down on my knees to roll the wedding ring.  It hurt, I remember that.  I remember the pain of not having a wedding ring on, of having to make the decision to leave.  It felt like a crack in my world, like jumping off a cliff, like my heart was breaking.  I felt the weight of that moment, all over again.

The next thing you know I was back in a hotel room with the salesman, and one of the boys.  My son did not know where he was going to stay for the night, and that is when the salesman said he could crash at his new house.  “What are you talking about!” I screamed.  The salesman in a suit coat, unbuttoned dress shirt, eyes wide and manic,  was smiling his manic smile, “Yes I bought a house, you can crash with me”  My heart starts pounding “You bought a house? You bought a house? With what fucking money?! We cannot have two mortgages! You are killing me” I take this news like a punch in the face.  Another manic decision, another fucking thing to deal with, I sigh and move away shaking.

Suddenly my son is gone, it is just me and the salesman, somehow he asks me what I did last night.  I tell him, ” I was walking down a hallway, and I took off…….SLAM, it hits me.  The salesman then tells me exactly what I did, and how I felt and at that moment.  I knew at that exactly moment, that he was able to see all that had happened to me, when he left in his manic rage from 2014 and on.  I KNEW it all in that moment.  I turn and look right at him, right at the salesman, and I say ” You know, you saw it all. But at the same time I am still relaying play by play to him in my dream what I did the night before.  It was fucking surreal, like a dream inside a dream.

and then I am back to saying where I was in the hotel, and the salesman is manic, confused, saying we are married but we are divorcing.  The salesman does not understand why I am upset, he is back to his silly, illogical self. And I am back to myself, into the original dream, where nothing makes sense.  Where I am fighting to leave and maintain my world and my kids in the constant hell of bipolar world.

Next I am with Mr Wonderful and we are walking to his black town car, it is parked in a parking lot, rimmed by trees, fruit trees.  He is saying that he forget something in the car and needed it.  He drops my hand and unlocks the car, I notice a bump on the car, a black bump on the back passenger window, I look, and then I see another bump on the front window, and another on the roof.  Then the bumps start moving, they are large wasps, and getting angry.  Mr. Wonderful slams the door, after retrieving what he needed. The wasps rise up off the car, and attack him, and attack me.  More wasps come from the fruit trees, I start moving away, and the wasps follow.  I am screaming “Mr Wonderful, come on!  Help! Help!” and I have a baseball hat in my hand that I am swatting away the wasps which are about the size of a sparrow.

I try to open my eyes,  and I can’t clearly open my right eye.  It feels like it is stuck, it feels like I have crunchies in it.  I reach up and my eye lash is stuck to my eye, I finally get my eyes open, it is pitch black, I look at my clock, 4:30 am.   I must have been crying in my sleep. I sit up and remember all that I had just been through.

Was it real? Do you think that the salesman could have actually had some knowledge of everything he put us through?

For one instant, there was clarity,

For one second, he understood from my view point, and then as fast and as clear and as precise the moment, it is gone.  The salesman is back to rambling, back to crazy, back to chaos.  So was it real? It felt real, it felt different, and obviously it warranted a post.

Three of Me

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Three is a special number to me. My birthday falls on a 3, my children are numbered 3, the Christian Church follows 3, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, the seasons are grouped in months of 3, and Witchcraft follows the three fold law.  I am fascinated by Witchcraft and always have been.  Being raised as a Catholic, you are taught that Witchcraft is evil, it is dangerous, and not to be trusted, but I am not so sure.  The more I learn about Wicca, and Witchcraft the more it makes sense.  The Catholic Church seems more about putting people down, shaming them, demanding money, and behind closed doors you have the priests molesting young children, male and female.  The Catholic Church hid it’s molesters, and moved the priests from parish to parish, exposing multiple other children to these predators. The sacred Holy Church became a monster in my eyes, a farce, more like a cult and fake.

I do believe in spirituality, I do believe there are other layers to this life, and being “alive” is only one path. I do believe in ghosts, and spirits and the ability to contact the other side.  I do believe some people have that gift, and some people have an awareness. I also know that their is evil in the world, I have lived with it.  I believe in balance, good and bad, and I believe there is more to this life than just what we see.

So I have over the years collected a number of Witchcraft books and Wicca books and I think I will start reading them. I will tell you that I do not feel comfortable having anyone catch me with one, as I do not think everyday people would understand. And since I read a bit at work, God Forbid, my boss or one of the doctor’s catch me with it.  No need to put my job in jeopardy just because I am curious. Curiosity is good, and I want to expand my knowledge, it might help me from feeling so blah.  Besides I am drawn to this, scary movies, listening to spooked on the way home, watching TV shows about the paranormal, loving candles, and walks through graveyards at night. See always been fascinated about this, lets just see where it goes.

 

Work Frustration

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I am down today, just tired and in pain. My day started off with a patient that was late, so that fucked up my whole day, so now I am running late all day long.  I HATE LATE PATIENTS, a matter of fact, I HATE BEING LATE.  I try not too, and for the most part I am usually very very early.  I am beginning to fucking hate my job, if I get one more obese patient I think I will explode.   How is it not common knowledge that the bigger the patient the harder the exam is?  Do you know that some patient’s are so large that they have to have an MRI at the zoo?  That some imaging modalities cannot accomadate for their body habitus?  I am in pain constantly, does anyone ever think of that? The patients are just getting bigger and bigger, I have seen BMIs of over 60 percent.  It makes me sad, and angry because I cannot do my job.  I cannot see your baby or your uterus or God forbid your ovarian mass. Sometimes it is just a waste of time.

night with the dead

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cementery

 

This weekend was amazing,  and I usually never get that, it was awesome.  I have even been looking at dogs online, which I feel a bit guilty about.  If I look at my FB and read about K, I get so upset, but I think that is normal.  I am trying to remember the good things and think about how awesome K’s life really was.  He was never alone.  K was the third dog to enter into the house, so he always had at least a dog buddy with him. And he was a puppy, the last time I got a puppy was when I was 11 years old, so K was MY first puppy.  I think that is also why I grew so attached to him.  I also never boarded him, or even had him at a groomer, so he did not spend anytime in a kennel and I think that is important.  He had dog beds and was allowed on all the furniture, as you know he slept with Mr. Wonderful and I.  We also have a doggie door so K’s access to outside was never limited.  We have a huge yard, and I even got a baby pool which I would set up, not often, but how K loved water.  I took him on multiple trails, even up to Cloudland Canyon.  I let him go into the rivers and lakes, brought with treats so he wouldn’t get hungry on trail walks, and of course water.  I gave K birthday presents and Christmas stockings filled with treats.  I would even bring him into Tractor Supply to get his food sometimes.  I fed him good dog food, not the cheap stuff, and again of course treats.  Not to mention all the table food he would get, the boys would give him “egg crunchies” every time they made eggs which was daily. Also the boys would “bulk” K when they were home, unlimited table scraps and treats until late into the late, since I would be sleeping and they were up.  K got showers, and baths, and daily walks.  I would walk K almost every day, and a good 2 mile walk, not like around a city block.  I always would say that a dog coming to my house is a dog that wins the lottery.  I would like to think that is correct, I love my dogs, they are family.  And I so miss, K, I would hope to have a dream about him, soon.

I have been dreaming, a ton.  Vivid, long, complicated dreams.  I did have K in my dream last night but I did not feel like he was actually there, and besides he had a pink mohawk on.  I think his shaved bump was still on his head, and he was skinnier than normal, I think he was still sick. But you know how dreams are, sometimes things get very confusing.  We were having a going away party for K, and he was all excited, jumping up on his back legs pink mohawk and all. It was just a passing moment in my dream and I did not hold on to it but I do remember it.  I like seeing him in my dreams, it helps me feel like he is still with me.  8 years old and two days is way, way, way, too young to lose my dog.  It still sucks, but I am trying to remember the good days. K was a happy dog, and I really loved him.

Friday night, we went to Oakland Cemetery to do the Capture the Spirit tour, and it was so cool.  Nightime at a Cemetery, yup, my co-workers thought I was nuts, and did not want to even hear about it.  It was Mr. Wonderful, of course, my daughter B, my sister, L, and my old co-worker A ( the one and only friend I had at work, and she left in July) and A’s husband.  I guess I picked a good time to go, we had the 6:45 tour, and it was perfect, the sunset was amazing, a huge pink sky, cloudy, and in the high 60s, could not have asked for a better night.  The tour went throughout the cementery, along lighted pathways and we stopped along the way to actor’s in front of actually grave sites, set up with tables, rocker chairs, vases, carpets, etc.  It was not a lot of furniture but it was enough to give them a stage to tell us their story.  The actors were dressed in period costumes, and gave a 5 to 20 minutes talk about the life of the person who was buried underneath them.  The tour lasted about 1 hour, but then you could wander the main area which had a bar to get drinks, a small tent set for shopping, and the creme- de la creme.  A fortune teller doing tarot card readings inside a Masoluem!   BOO YAH, chair dancing, how cool.  We all waited about an hour to get inside to get our reading and it was pretty good, quick of course, but we were inside next to graves, how do you beat that?

Saturday it rained, and was wet, cloudy and cool, a perfect day to stay inside, and we did.  My sister came over on Saturday as usual, it is our Saturday night thing, and my daughter and her boyfriend were there as well. ( and her boyfriend, O, had his puppy with him, R, SUCH A CUTIE!)   We had some buffalo chicken salad with blue cheese, yum yum and it was handmade by Mr Wonderful.  Did I tell you he can cook?  We he can cook in and out of the bedroom, giggity.   Mr. W did also start his red sauce and meatballs on Saturday, so we had a good dinner two nights in a row.  Sunday night it was my son J and his girlfriend, A, B and her boyfriend, and Mr. W and Myself.  My son packed a big box for my other son, and brought it to him.  He send me a picture of him eating it later in the night.  I did call the second son to chat, cause I felt bad not having him home.  It was a nice talk, and Mr. Wonderful called his daughter, S as well, so a totally great family weekend, oh and with the dead.

 

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abandon

 

10 days without K.

The house is so quiet, so quiet, no barking at the fence, no more running up and down the fence competing with the neighbor dogs, no wagging tail for me, no wet doggie kisses, no walks.  I am depressed.  I am drinking everyday again.  I am not doing what I should be doing.  I am just going through the motions of life.  Why does it seem that I am always just doing the minimum? Why did my fucking dog have to die?

I go back and forth between knowing it was his time and I was there for him.  I held him until the end.  I sat up with him from 3 am to the minute he died at 7:22am.  So I know that he was not alone, but I wrestle with should I have brought him into the emergency vet so he would not have suffered?  Did he suffer? Was I selfish because I did not want to pay for an ER vet to help? Should I have brought him in to be put down? Was he is pain? and I will never know.  The other side of the coin is, if I would have brought him into the emergency vet and they put him down, I would have felt guilty for maybe putting him down to soon.  I would have wrestled with that fact, just like I still wrestle with it with G’s death, T’s death and M’s death.  How do you ever know?

You don’t

And it is the “what ifs” that kill you. God this hurts, I miss my K.  I miss my dog.  The house is in mourning, the house is empty, my heart is broken.

I do not talk to much about him anymore because I think everyone is kind of sick of me, crying all the time.

Why does it seem like I always have some sort of pain in my life?  Is it me? Am I just looking for things to hurt me? Or do I just hang on too God Dam much? Is it impossible for me to be happy? Am I thinking to much, and pushing myself too hard, and I should just let my life enfold as it is? I do feel guilty about not being productive, I should be doing more everyday.  I should be going to the gym.  I should be cleaning, but who the fuck cares. Why clean up the dog hair when their is one less dog creating that dog hair.  Why do I feel bad for feeling bad?

I wish I had No dogs at my house now.  Because seeing Mr. Wonderful with his dog hurts, and seeing my daughter with her dog hurts.  I do not have a dog, because my dog is fucking dead.

Stark

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stairsfall

 

The house is empty, it is quiet, stark. I go through periods of being able to accept K’s death and fits of grief where I am in a ball crying.  Coming home yesterday to a empty house with only Mr. Wonderful’s dog and my daughter’s dog was hell.  Not one of them were at the fence when I pulled up, or on the bottom deck looking through the lattice, they did not care that I was home.  I walked in to the two of them, and then they got up and barked, wagging tails at least on A, Mr. Wonderful’s dog.  My daughter’s dog, barked and ran away, his typical.  Again I go to feed them, and reach for three bowls, I only need two bowls now, that is when the tears start.

K was the movie star of the house, he was loud, and always demanded attention, pushing the others out of his way.  He was mouthy and would put your arm or wrist in his mouth, wagging his tail.  He would “talk” or howl in the mornings and when he was happy.  K would start staring at you when it was almost time for dinner, he knew when it was 5 pm, and he was going to make sure you knew it was time for him to eat.  K would also bug you for a walk every day, he would come up to you and stare with his tail wagging.  K knew the schedule and I wanted to see that yesterday.  I did not.  Not one of the remaining dogs came up to me to ask for a walk, they basically just ignored me.

Fun.  NOT. 

But I get it, I am not there “owner/special person” and I get that.  But seeing that just reinforces that my Dog is gone.  It makes it hurt just that much more.   So I pour a drink and sit on the back deck on the top stair and cry while I rock myself, missing my K.  I hate this.  I hate this.  I fucking hate this.