Clever I am, or so I thought. But the mess that sits at my feet reminds me clever has had nothing to do with it. More like ignorant optimism that everything would work out. I have not stood for anything my entire life. Where have I really put my life on the line for anything? Consequently I am, yet again, awash in the sea of Despair. This allegory has been repeated and repeated, cyclical and redundant. Now that a year is gone, D thinks I should be fine. He doesn't realize where on the spectrum of fuck up I am sitting. What have I accomplished except screwing up a gaggle of children?
Why do I feel this way? Too much to divulge if I am to pretend. I am living in an intolerable situation with D claiming he is going to leave over and over. How can I move on when he is stalking me in my own home. I have no privacy, no space at all. I understand the despair that comes with taking one's life. The anxiety that must lead up to the act. I feel like I am reaching that point at times.
Primarily started as a homeshcool blog, I switch to grief support due to a family suicide and then back to the latest recipe. There is so much more to all of this for life is changing moment by moment--the kids grow, we age and we live. This is my life to the best of my ability.
You need to put your foot down, stop going out with him and do not lie about it if you are stupid enogh to go anywhere with him.
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