Well, I Wasn't Expecting That

And The Walls, Come Tumbling Down

I was hopeful of co-operation. I was wanting things to turn around.
And I was prepared for a "no". A painful smackdown refusal.

That's not what happened. Instead I got silence. And stalling. And redirection.

I did not have a plan for those. I stuttered. I was confused on what to do or say.

I kept repeating myself over the days that followed, in different ways and different words.

I got no where fast.

My counselor said something that was a revelation. Sometimes no answer is a "no" answer.

So this is it. I have to make an ultimatum... and leave.

This time not coming back until changes are done. Work is progressive and happening. My quality of life would be acceptable if I returned.

No promises this time. Results and proof before belief in a possible future.

It kills me to think about what I am doing. It feels like giving up. But I was told to look at it as me moving forward and the choice to come with me is not mine.

Ultimatums are hard. They feel like bullying. Controlling. I do not want to be that person.
Healthy relationships don't have ultimatums. But, this is already an unhealthy relationship, so as a last straw I have to make demands and then stick to my requirements. To try to jump-start this into a healthier life.

They started as a list of needs that I felt I deserved having met just because I am human.

1. Stable shelter
2. mental and physical health treatment.
3. medications
4. more than one meal a day and healthy balanced diet

These were things I was not in contol of and was not getting. Steps needed to be taken that I couldn't do and they weren't happening.

Now? I must find a way to be self-sufficient. It has been proven that no one will do what needs to be done, and I can't stay here and get them.

Those were the basics I felt I could say had to happen without feeling guilty for asking. That had to happen for me to stay.

There are other issues, but they are secondary. Now some of those must be met too before I return.

Trying not to feel like a bitch.

Time's up. Pencils down.

Decision Time

I can't put it off any longer. I have to lay it all out there in no uncertain terms. 

I voiced my needs. I stepped up and tried to get things done myself and hit a brick wall.

I have done everything I could myself, and have empty hands.

I explained exactly what needed to be done, step by step. It didn't happen.

I am in a hard place.

I hate people who make demands, but what else can I do?

I literally can't live like this, and I am not ready to die.

I have to decide what I honestly believe I have a right to ask for.

I have to decide what I am willing to deal with.

I have to decide what I will do if the answer is "no".

My future is hanging in the balance, so to speak.

I am scared.

Stand Up

Falling Down Happens.

It's inevitable that things come up and sometimes knock you back. Whether created by you by not being prepared or just making bad decisions, or out of the blue with no attatched reason. That's life, as they say.

When you find yourself down, you can stay and wallow, or give up, or change direction. I have tried to give up. Several times. The universe wouldn't let me. I have tried the wallowing. It's painful and I don't recommend it. There is no pay off worth self-torture. And now? Changing direction.

I started this blog when I first decided to change direction. It hasn't been easy. I am still just turning the first corner, and it has been like marching in a knee-deep lake of mud. I have taken the first steps, got stuck, almost fell again, and then starting pushing forward.

The problem most distressing is finding those I thought wanted the best for me, would rather I wallow. It is partly my own fault. The wallowing I chose and they got used to it. Every little slam and shove I allowed let them know it was okay to do it to me. I take responsibility for that.

I helped create this mess. It doesn't really matter 'why' I allowed it. Blame isn't important and will just suck me back into the muck. Yes, I must remember my past so I don't repeat it, but I can't hold it close and cling to it. I must re-make myself. Re-take myself. Own all of it. The good and the bad. And then let it go so it can't hold me back.

That's not who I want to be anymore.

This is scary. There are so many unknowns. Where will I be? Who will be with me? Who will I be?

I have no answers yet. Only mounting questions.

The ground is uneven and trembles, but it is time to stand up.

Ungiving Up

I guess this is a restart.
I am still not sure what form this blog will take, and I am not sure I care. It will be a place for me to remember my past, hope for the future, and bemoan the present. At least for now.
Originally it was going to be a vague diary to get thoughts organized without details for prying eyes.

I was hiding. Hurting. Lost.

-Not so much anymore. So many changes are taking place; have taken place.
On facebook I have started speaking my mind, as I have here at home. It has not been harmonious overall, but I have not been confronted or attacked as I had feared.

I am starting to believe that I have worth and a future and that my needs are just as impotant as anyone else's. That may sound silly to any who have not lived the life I have, or are in the situations I find myself in.

I allowed myself and what I wanted to be written-off. I allowed depression and anxiety and people with control over my life to make all the decisions unquestioningly. It led to despair. Then one catastrophe after another bombarded me. I almost disappeared completely.

I am coming back now. My mind is functioning and I have returned to my search of purpose and happiness.

Where does it go from here?

Nowhere to run

I shouldn't feel this way

My van died. Not the battery dying and needed a jump start, and "Oh, gee we need a new battery." I mean it's dead. The oil light came on, then it made a grinding sound and a thump. When I tried to restart it, it made a horrible, louder grinding sound and a thump and died again. We were almost home, so we pushed it the rest of the way and went inside. It was night and it was cold. This was the night before the big "Polar Vortex" hit.

I hunkered down and waited, hoping it was just begging for oil, and by some miracle there was an oil leak and if we just put oil in it (ha ha) it would be a happy little van and make it to the shop (even though we have no hope of being able to pay to fix it anyway). But it wasn't that low on oil. My husband poured oil in anyway, and we tried starting it up again, only to hear it complain to me again. With the hood up, we could hear that the thump was coming from the side of the engine.

I texted my daughter, hoping she would come take a look at it for a clue as to what is wrong since she is a whiz with cars and going to school to be a mechanic. No luck. Her truck's power steering went out and she can't turn around out here. She is fixing it tomorrow.

Then it hits me. Tomorrow is my counseling.

I have been logging away things that have been coming up the past two weeks. Saving them for my counseling session. All the little slams. All the minor attacks on my self esteem. All the things that have happened and I didn't know how to react. What to say. What to do.

There will be no help. And all of a sudden I feel trapped. And I feel panic.

And I want to cry.

Where to start

Counseling

I knew I needed it again when I was ready to scream and run and give up but part of me wanted to fix everything for them all and stay. And I was broken. What he said snapped something. Too much force had been applied after too much time of me being the one in charge, yet the one who was "too weak" and had no authority. Handling things yet "can't handle anything" and falling apart at the seams. Things had been sliding by and nothing had been supported. And it was too much. So I told him we both HAD to have therapy or else I was leaving. The end.

Both my children had moved out by then. 

My daughter abruptly RIGHT then. Too soon for her. I don't think she was ready. She should have been able to stay with me till college, but she didn't want to come back. I couldn't make her. I began to beg once, but I couldn't even do that. She's gone, she's gone. There are still nights it hits me hard that she's gone.

My son moved in with my ex a few years ago. I still beg him to go out to dinner with me occasionally, and he says yes and goes and we have a good time, but he reminds me how he wants nothing to do with the family and how messed up I am. And he's right. And I don't blame him.

My step kids are in control of the home. What they want they get. The grown one goes from house to house at will and demands things and gets them. Currently she seems to have moved back in with us after moving out of our previous house and took her sisters room over, even taking her bed, and trashed the room. My husband said nothing. Even when her sister came to him.

My husband is fighting depression. And resisting change. Resisting me. And not understanding why things can't just go on. Why I can't just be happy with how things are.

But his therapist says he is making progress...