Write a letter to Spring
Mention that Marie hasn’t been supportive in the past, and especially since her surgery and you’re terrified that you’ve offended her in some way, and if you have not then tell her that it makes you sad that maybe she didn’t fight a little harder to see me now and then since I only live 25 minutes away, and then I find out that one of her closest (new) friends lives just up the hill from my house, and that makes me even sadder because of the times where months would pass and you’d pray (even though you long ago stopped believing in God) that maybe if you just had ONE friend, just ONE person to talk to - that maybe, just maybe, some of the stories of your life and existence would survive - but what kind of friend allows their friend to be alone, and with so many words to utter and nobody to speak them to, for years? (Or am I having feelings of jealousy because of her success in rejoining “the living?” I’m conflicted on that.)
Remember to tell her about how it’s like your husband doesn’t even know who you are anymore because you’ve been a burden for so long that when something new has come along in his life that’s of ANY level of excitement, he begins falling in love with that thing and out of love with you, and he doesn’t realize that he’s doing it, but you have nothing but time on your hands, and you’ve journaled this shit for so long that you could prove in a court of law that ‘he said that...exactly that.’
Oh, and mention that you’ve been watching crime documentaries nonstop since you and her last talked about rewatching The OA, which you never actually followed through on, but instead rewatched every season of Cold Justice then went to youtube and started going down a weird rabbit hole of murder documentaries and starting to seriously wonder about your state of mental health.
Remember to tell her about how it’s like your husband doesn’t even know who you are anymore because you’ve been a burden for so long that when something new has come along in his life that’s of ANY level of excitement, he begins falling in love with that thing and out of love with you, and he doesn’t realize that he’s doing it, but you have nothing but time on your hands, and you’ve journaled this shit for so long that you could prove in a court of law that ‘he said that...exactly that.’
Oh, and mention that you’ve been watching crime documentaries nonstop since you and her last talked about rewatching The OA, which you never actually followed through on, but instead rewatched every season of Cold Justice then went to youtube and started going down a weird rabbit hole of murder documentaries and starting to seriously wonder about your state of mental health.
Tell her how AJ just said “I can’t think of one time I’ve ever actually been angry.” with a straight face after he threw open his bedroom door and screamed because he’d forgotten to wash all 9 pair of underwear he manages to go through in 3 days, and then how you remember that it’s not illegal to go missing of your own volition and wonder what kind of energy that would take.
Remember to tell Spring that you wrote that first paragraph about Marie, which was just supposed to be a quick note to remind you to mention it at SOME point in your chat with her, but that I ended up expanding on it right away and kept on talking, and now I’m super worried that you think that was the biggest thing on my mind, but it’s not.
It’s that I’m going insane.
I am so empty. There’s no need to expand on that sentence. I’m not “empty of the burning love Dave and I share” because that’s been gone from my life for so long that I can’t remember if it was ever real. I’m not even “simply” empty - that would be extravagant, and of all the things that I am, I certainly am not extravagant towards myself in any way.
Remember to tell Spring that you felt really guilty right here because you hadn’t yet responded to a single thing in her chat to you, and so you had to go to FB to read it 3 or 4 times in order to formulate a response that would sound logical to another human being (as you are out of practice using your vocal cords for anything other than crying.)
Remember to tell Spring that you wrote that first paragraph about Marie, which was just supposed to be a quick note to remind you to mention it at SOME point in your chat with her, but that I ended up expanding on it right away and kept on talking, and now I’m super worried that you think that was the biggest thing on my mind, but it’s not.
It’s that I’m going insane.
I am so empty. There’s no need to expand on that sentence. I’m not “empty of the burning love Dave and I share” because that’s been gone from my life for so long that I can’t remember if it was ever real. I’m not even “simply” empty - that would be extravagant, and of all the things that I am, I certainly am not extravagant towards myself in any way.
Remember to tell Spring that you felt really guilty right here because you hadn’t yet responded to a single thing in her chat to you, and so you had to go to FB to read it 3 or 4 times in order to formulate a response that would sound logical to another human being (as you are out of practice using your vocal cords for anything other than crying.)
Okay, so of course you’re right, I am a bit psychic LOL Well, I don’t know if it can be proven by a scientist, but sometimes I just know things and I end up being right. I am sorry that I am having to say I’m sorry again, though. :( That fucking blows.
And it’s both of us, so what the actual fuck? Word for word, I could have sent that message to you that you just sent to me.
(Remember to ask Spring what her email address is because I’m worried she’ll think it’s stupid that I put her message into a document on Google since it was going to be so long and then maybe she’ll think badly of me for not having her email address already? Oh, God.)
Even the isolation. I can most assuredly tell you how badly I want to fucking SCREAM my head off every single day, and truth be told, I actually have once and it didn’t help anything anyway. I just felt stupid screaming into a pillow when nobody was home so I gave up on that, too. I am always alone, even though technically 4 people live in the house now.
Me, Dave, AJ, and Bryan (the middle one who is in nursing school now, but he lives in the finished basement and has an outside door and a kitchenette and ½ bath, and best of all it’s TOTALLY FREE for him! (because he’s never offered us any money for staying here even though he sees us struggle every day and then packages come for him from Amazon and suddenly he’ll have new sneakers.) So I hate my life, but since I’m either going insane or going through menopause, I figure I’ll forget about it soon enough because my short term memory sucks, or at the very least stop giving a shit.
I keep hoping that since I only had what I’d call mild OCD symptoms as a very young child (around 4 years old) up until I hit puberty and then everything went batshit crazy with my body, that since things are going nuts again (hormonally only, I hope) that when this whole process is over it will take the panic attacks and fears and phobias and restrictions on my life with it.
Going back to being alone - omg it sucks so much. But a lot of the time, too, I want them to all just hurry up and leave in the mornings so that the house is quiet again and I don’t have to hear all of their loud noises and weird smells.
At this point, I’m still basically confined to the chair at my desk, and I yearn for everyone to leave because I just want to be alone. And yet, not even 15 hours ago I told a psychiatric nurse practitioner that I was meeting with for the first time that I felt no feelings of depression at all. So maybe it’s not wanting to be alone, but more for the fighting to stop, or just the noise in general to stop.
I’m so sensitive to bright light and loud noises now for what I imagine it’s from being inside of the house for 99.9% of the last 12 years. Seriously. 12 years. No friends. No in-person conversations with anyone you’re not married to or given birth to, or is one of your doctors. And God forbid someone ask you a question when you’re out in public on a “bad day” and can’t remember how to do that whole “conversation thing” anymore and worry if you’ve made an ass out of yourself, and then suddenly you look over and wonder why milk is now $2 a gallon more than the last time you noticed, and then you remember that was 12 years ago and … repeat that cycle a few million times.
(The above paragraph was typed while very high and so I apologize for going offtopic.)
Okay, so you had asked me if I was Wiccan. I used to be, and I remember you and I had talked about it once or twice before, but it was so long ago that I barely remember it. I don’t even know why I stopped practicing, but I imagine it was because I felt discouraged by the people around me, like so many other things I try to do.
Or is that all in my head because I’m so hard on myself? Just really mean to me. If I heard someone talking to another person the way I talk to myself I think I would actually follow them around just to make sure that everything was safe for them and then maybe call the cops. It can be so harsh and over the smallest things.
And, of course, Dave is no longer enamored with me. That infuriates me, but at the same time that’s totally not true - I have no harsh feelings about it at all. I expect it. Remember, he found me online when I had only started my panic disorder website 3 years earlier, and there were no Pregnancy-Panic Attacks articles written, let alone a message board for people to get together and talk about it. I was at a super great place in my life back then - I was 28 years old, my kids were older and I had so much more independence. I finally had my first new car and a great job that I actually loved and was only 10 minutes from home. So, when Dave and I first got together, I think he got this incredibly WRONG impression of me? I don’t know anymore. I know I didn’t mislead him - 100% without a doubt there was no misleading done by me. I mean, we MET through my panic disorder website! It’s not like my anxiety was ever a secret, and now mixed with menopause, I’m not even sure he’s dealing with a human being, so I guess I can’t really blame him for pulling away this last year.
It’s just that I’ve really needed him. And I’ve been there 100% for him. In the past year, he was fired and it took longer than expected to get a job offer. Six months ago when he got his new job he just really got cocky and changed a lot for some reason. I absolutely don’t suspect another woman even for a moment, but I do think he might be having an emotional affair with his job. Is that even a thing? But, oh my God, he talks about it non stop when he’s home, and most days chats me FROM work to TELL ME ABOUT WORK! It’s aggravating, especially since he forgets absolutely everything I try to tell him. Whether verbally or in an email, he’ll swear I never mentioned something when just a week earlier I had spent 10 minutes pouring my heart out to him about it. That really hurts my feelings.
When I asked him why he’s been treating me differently, at first he said he wasn’t, but later on, he said that I’m the one who’s been acting mean towards him (which is true - recall that the menopause bitchiness thing is a real thing!!!! Never doubt this! Haha but not really) But he also started mumbling something under his breath, and I know I heard “your health problems…”
Which makes me want to fucking scream because it’s not my fault that I developed Type 2 Diabetes, and I mean - I’ve lost over 100 pounds, I’ve had so many tests done with my blood and they’re all within normal ranges, so wtf is he even talking about? The diabetes thing doesn’t cost him any money, and in fact, it saves him a fortune, because I REFUSE to let this kill me so I control it with my diet. My diet consists of never eating, drinking coffee all day, smoking, and then eating some cheese or some scrambled eggs when I feel dizzy. And yet today Dave spent $9 on lunch at Wendy’s - and that’s just lunch. We’re poor - that’s a lot of money for lunch, dude.
What sucks is that Facebook sucks, too. It’s incredibly bad etiquette to ever type anything real or emotional or something shitty that happened, and so - even though etiquette is supremely important to me because of some bizarre childhood table-setting lessons bringing on some weird OCD thing about manners - I still get so lonely and the words build up in me until they’re no longer words, and if I don’t get them out I actually feel a heaviness in my chest and start getting panicky until it’s all typed out and posted to my wall. And then nobody reads it and it gets awkward and after 4 hours I just delete the whole thing.
It’s weird, though, because I think I’m starting to change how I mentally view things.
Like deleting posts. Lately, I just do not give a shit. If I type something bitchy and stupid out, I’ll post it. I’ve got all of 43 friends on Facebook and if something gets 3 likes it is a miracle. And like a dumbass, I actually CHECK to see if anyone liked it, and if they liked it - did they use a special like, or just a regular thumbs up?
Shit, I have to go to bed for a few hours because Bryan left for school, and his puppy (the big German Shepherd who is a serious Romeo and his powers of love and kindness just pour off of him) is cranky because he went to bed late, so he wants to go back to bed. I listen to him because I spend more time with him than anyone else, and he’s never once hurt me or made me cry or made me feel lonely. I don’t even have to pet him. I don’t have to give him a treat. I don’t have to find his toy. He’s just happy to lay next to my desk chair and I can reach down and pat his head every now and then, and I think that makes us both feel better about life.
…..
So if the puppy wants a nap, the puppy gets his nap.
Me, Dave, AJ, and Bryan (the middle one who is in nursing school now, but he lives in the finished basement and has an outside door and a kitchenette and ½ bath, and best of all it’s TOTALLY FREE for him! (because he’s never offered us any money for staying here even though he sees us struggle every day and then packages come for him from Amazon and suddenly he’ll have new sneakers.) So I hate my life, but since I’m either going insane or going through menopause, I figure I’ll forget about it soon enough because my short term memory sucks, or at the very least stop giving a shit.
I keep hoping that since I only had what I’d call mild OCD symptoms as a very young child (around 4 years old) up until I hit puberty and then everything went batshit crazy with my body, that since things are going nuts again (hormonally only, I hope) that when this whole process is over it will take the panic attacks and fears and phobias and restrictions on my life with it.
Going back to being alone - omg it sucks so much. But a lot of the time, too, I want them to all just hurry up and leave in the mornings so that the house is quiet again and I don’t have to hear all of their loud noises and weird smells.
At this point, I’m still basically confined to the chair at my desk, and I yearn for everyone to leave because I just want to be alone. And yet, not even 15 hours ago I told a psychiatric nurse practitioner that I was meeting with for the first time that I felt no feelings of depression at all. So maybe it’s not wanting to be alone, but more for the fighting to stop, or just the noise in general to stop.
I’m so sensitive to bright light and loud noises now for what I imagine it’s from being inside of the house for 99.9% of the last 12 years. Seriously. 12 years. No friends. No in-person conversations with anyone you’re not married to or given birth to, or is one of your doctors. And God forbid someone ask you a question when you’re out in public on a “bad day” and can’t remember how to do that whole “conversation thing” anymore and worry if you’ve made an ass out of yourself, and then suddenly you look over and wonder why milk is now $2 a gallon more than the last time you noticed, and then you remember that was 12 years ago and … repeat that cycle a few million times.
(The above paragraph was typed while very high and so I apologize for going offtopic.)
Okay, so you had asked me if I was Wiccan. I used to be, and I remember you and I had talked about it once or twice before, but it was so long ago that I barely remember it. I don’t even know why I stopped practicing, but I imagine it was because I felt discouraged by the people around me, like so many other things I try to do.
Or is that all in my head because I’m so hard on myself? Just really mean to me. If I heard someone talking to another person the way I talk to myself I think I would actually follow them around just to make sure that everything was safe for them and then maybe call the cops. It can be so harsh and over the smallest things.
And, of course, Dave is no longer enamored with me. That infuriates me, but at the same time that’s totally not true - I have no harsh feelings about it at all. I expect it. Remember, he found me online when I had only started my panic disorder website 3 years earlier, and there were no Pregnancy-Panic Attacks articles written, let alone a message board for people to get together and talk about it. I was at a super great place in my life back then - I was 28 years old, my kids were older and I had so much more independence. I finally had my first new car and a great job that I actually loved and was only 10 minutes from home. So, when Dave and I first got together, I think he got this incredibly WRONG impression of me? I don’t know anymore. I know I didn’t mislead him - 100% without a doubt there was no misleading done by me. I mean, we MET through my panic disorder website! It’s not like my anxiety was ever a secret, and now mixed with menopause, I’m not even sure he’s dealing with a human being, so I guess I can’t really blame him for pulling away this last year.
It’s just that I’ve really needed him. And I’ve been there 100% for him. In the past year, he was fired and it took longer than expected to get a job offer. Six months ago when he got his new job he just really got cocky and changed a lot for some reason. I absolutely don’t suspect another woman even for a moment, but I do think he might be having an emotional affair with his job. Is that even a thing? But, oh my God, he talks about it non stop when he’s home, and most days chats me FROM work to TELL ME ABOUT WORK! It’s aggravating, especially since he forgets absolutely everything I try to tell him. Whether verbally or in an email, he’ll swear I never mentioned something when just a week earlier I had spent 10 minutes pouring my heart out to him about it. That really hurts my feelings.
When I asked him why he’s been treating me differently, at first he said he wasn’t, but later on, he said that I’m the one who’s been acting mean towards him (which is true - recall that the menopause bitchiness thing is a real thing!!!! Never doubt this! Haha but not really) But he also started mumbling something under his breath, and I know I heard “your health problems…”
Which makes me want to fucking scream because it’s not my fault that I developed Type 2 Diabetes, and I mean - I’ve lost over 100 pounds, I’ve had so many tests done with my blood and they’re all within normal ranges, so wtf is he even talking about? The diabetes thing doesn’t cost him any money, and in fact, it saves him a fortune, because I REFUSE to let this kill me so I control it with my diet. My diet consists of never eating, drinking coffee all day, smoking, and then eating some cheese or some scrambled eggs when I feel dizzy. And yet today Dave spent $9 on lunch at Wendy’s - and that’s just lunch. We’re poor - that’s a lot of money for lunch, dude.
What sucks is that Facebook sucks, too. It’s incredibly bad etiquette to ever type anything real or emotional or something shitty that happened, and so - even though etiquette is supremely important to me because of some bizarre childhood table-setting lessons bringing on some weird OCD thing about manners - I still get so lonely and the words build up in me until they’re no longer words, and if I don’t get them out I actually feel a heaviness in my chest and start getting panicky until it’s all typed out and posted to my wall. And then nobody reads it and it gets awkward and after 4 hours I just delete the whole thing.
It’s weird, though, because I think I’m starting to change how I mentally view things.
Like deleting posts. Lately, I just do not give a shit. If I type something bitchy and stupid out, I’ll post it. I’ve got all of 43 friends on Facebook and if something gets 3 likes it is a miracle. And like a dumbass, I actually CHECK to see if anyone liked it, and if they liked it - did they use a special like, or just a regular thumbs up?
Shit, I have to go to bed for a few hours because Bryan left for school, and his puppy (the big German Shepherd who is a serious Romeo and his powers of love and kindness just pour off of him) is cranky because he went to bed late, so he wants to go back to bed. I listen to him because I spend more time with him than anyone else, and he’s never once hurt me or made me cry or made me feel lonely. I don’t even have to pet him. I don’t have to give him a treat. I don’t have to find his toy. He’s just happy to lay next to my desk chair and I can reach down and pat his head every now and then, and I think that makes us both feel better about life.
…..
So if the puppy wants a nap, the puppy gets his nap.
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