Dark Thoughts

I didn't want to write this blog because I thought it wouldn't be the right place to do it. But I've been sitting here all day fighting back tears and dark thoughts realizing that if I don't talk about it somewhere, fully and without holding anything back, I'm not going to feel any better at all.


This is a warning, right now, that this post is not going to be happy at all. It's going to come from a very dark place in me that some of you probably don't know is even there. Some of you might be shocked, some of you might be used to it. But if you don't want to read about my depressing thoughts and emotions, then stop reading right now.














I woke up this morning at a reasonable hour, normally I sleep in purely out of exhaustion or laziness. Today I didn't want to face reality. I hadn't had a particularly interesting dream or anything, I just did not want to be conscious and have to face life. I say that because sometimes I have amazing dreams and I do not want them to end, but thats a story for another blog. Whether it was lucky that Merric didn't appear to want to wake up either, or a bad sign, he slept until I finally decided I needed to drag my ass out of bed and come downstairs to check my email. Why was this so important? Because I'm trying to sell a bunch of shit I have no use for to pay my bills. 


Yeah, I really hate admitting I'm a broke ass young mother, but it's the truth. I do what I can to get by and to make sure my son is fed. I try to down play it, but honestly some days I only eat once so I can make our groceries last longer. Merric eats 3 meals a day because, honestly, he's more important to me than myself. I've dealt with hunger pains before from refusing to eat in junior high because I was too lazy to wake up early enough to have breakfast before leaving for school and often not making myself a lunch out of the same laziness. I can handle it, it's not good for me, but I can deal. 


I feel so overwhelmed with just living life sometimes. I don't understand how people do it. I rarely have the drive to actually see friends, I often let communication slip until one of us messages the other claiming it's been forever and even then I sometimes let things slip again. I just don't seem to be capable of having the kinds of relationships other people have. I have a very small handful of people that I honestly think I could phone at 1 am for a ride home from the hospital, a position I have been in before. And even fewer people I feel I could call to ask to drive clear across the city to get my crutches and Merric's car seat and bring them back clear across the city because I cannot put any weight on my foot and I'm stranded at a friends house. Even then I feel like a complete burden to people and wonder why anyone would put up with me. 


In junior high I used to cut my leg. I was too chicken shit to attempt suicide a second time after what happened the first go round. It just seemed like some sort of a sign that it wouldn't be the best out, and yet I still have to fight back thoughts of it. I would cut my leg because I didn't cut for attention, so I didn't want them somewhere people were likely to see. I did it once as a mixture of punishment and an apology, and it backfired completely and really hurt and pissed off the person I was trying to make amends with. I didn't know why I started doing it, I mean I was having a shit time of it in life, but I still can't really figure it out. I tell people it's because I was trying to externalize my inner pain, but I'm really good at bullshitting and sounding smart. But I still think about doing it. Today I sat staring at my wrists, and when I do that it terrifies me. I knew I wasn't ever at risk of bleeding out when I'd cut my legs, I never cut anywhere near an artery and never deep enough to need stitches or anything. A lot of the time I would just sit there and watch as the blood would run down my calf and ankle. 


The first time I pierced myself I was mostly trying to cause myself pain. I tell people that it took me an hour to finally push the needle all the way through my belly button flesh because I was scared of the pain, but honestly I could have stopped if I was scared of it hurting. I kept it just in the middle of completion for an hour to feel the pain and cry. This probably doesn't surprise some people. 


I often think my son is better off without me. I know it's bullshit, but I still feel it. I feel like a terrible mother. When I look at him I cannot comprehend how he has turned out to be such a happy little guy. I know my keeping him has been a source of pride for a lot of people, but I do wonder if it was the right choice. If I am a good mother, or if he would have been better off with someone else. These thoughts are really not helped when certain people call me "a child with a child". They make me feel like I have no business being a parent. It's really not helpful when the person I should be able to turn to the most is constantly putting herself in the position of bad guy. I cannot count the number of times she's threatened to call child services on me because my house is not up to her standards of organized. Like she would put me through the pain of being questioned and scrutinized as a parent, or worse, judged without investigation, purely because I cannot keep a tidy house. 


I've just been having a rough day today, and I didn't want to talk to anyone about it because I didn't want to be a burden, I didn't want to bum anyone out, and I really didn't want to seem like I think my problems are more important than what is happening in the rest of the world right now. You know? Like there are thousands of missing, possibly dead people in Japan right now because of a natural disaster, and here I am feeling sorry for myself because I can't find the will to push through the day without thinking about harming myself. I think I'm going to end this blog here. I know I wasn't as open about a lot of things, but I tried.