Stress, Emotion, Pain, Depression

I thought I knew stress, I am stress. That’s what I do. I worry about everything, and I stress. It’s how I have always been.

But I have never been so extremely overloaded as I am now. Since we lost Renix I have been an emotional wreck. I can’t have any kind of a serious conversation without breaking down, tv, movies, music, doesn’t matter, if anything even remotely emotional is happening I am having a breakdown.I’ve been making Ben watch reruns of Big Bang or Friends, or Grown Ups for the 1000th time because I have seen them and know what to expect and what parts to skip before I see them.

Now, as of last month we lost quite a substantial amount of our income, we saved and and planned and stocked up and we’ll survive, but it still fucking sucks. Then my car broke. We thought it was fixed but it isn’t and every time I get an update it keeps getting worse not better. We can’t afford to take it to a mechanic, I thought it was good hands, and I hope I am not wrong, but it seems like it just keeps getting worse, now it could be completely fucked and we can’t afford a new one. We can’t afford anything. I can’t take any more! I can’t take all this stress. Everyone keeps telling me have faith, it’ll get better, it’s going to be ok, you’re going to be ok.




I woke up crying at 5 am this morning because of all the stress, Not that that is anything new, because frankly no matter what time I go to bed I am always awake by 5:30 because apparently I don’t need to sleep either. And if i had any means of opportunity I probably would have run away.  But at this point I don’t even have a fucking car I could run away in or any money to run anywhere!!! I stormed out of the house and went for a walk about 6 this morning, trying to clear my head. I must’ve looked pretty crazy with my bedhead walking down the road crying and screaming at the sky “WHAT MORE DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME? HOW MUCH MORE DO YOU WANT ME TO TAKE?!?!” I’ve been trying REALLY REALLY hard not to lose what little faith I have left after Renix died. I have been trying to trust that god has a plan and there was some reason I will never understand why my son doesn’t get to be with me. I’ve continued to pray and cry and beg. I’ve asked god to help me feel better, to show us the path we’re supposed to be on, to help us, but it’s not working. Life just keeps getting worse instead of better. I don’t sleep, I hardly eat, I’ve lost weight, I’ve been smoking again (please spare me the lecture, I know it’s bad, I don’t want it around Z, it’s exspensive, blah blah, I know), and I’m pretty sure my hair is also falling out.

We’ve been working our asses off trying to make something of our business hoping that can help bring us some extra income and help us keep from downing, but even when we do get business it comes and goes. I know that I don’t have it as bad as some, I have a wonderful husband and a beautiful daughter, a roof over my head and food in my stomach. We get by, but is that all my life is supposed to amount to? A big fucking pile of pain, stress, emotions, and a mediocre existence of just scraping by for the rest of my life? We’ve talked about my going back to work to help with bills, but neither one of us wants that. We don’t wanna put Z in daycare or have to worry about having other people watch her, and then it would make most of my income pointless anyway. Also, we’ve been seriously considering putting her in online school when the time comes which would require me to be home with her.  We’ve been looking for better opportunities for Ben, but with the skills he has it’s hard to find something worthwhile in his industry. We’ve even been looking for anything that could pay better and have some kind of opportunity to move up in the future, but we’ve had no luck as of yet.

I’ve been trying really hard to deny it, but I think I am depressed. I’ve been calling it grieving, which I am doing too, and emotions, and stress, but I think it is all of the above. This morning when I left my house to walk and clear my head, part of me never wanted to come back. Part of me wanted to go lay down on the railroad tracks or step in front of a car or just hop in someone else’s car and take off, hitchhike or something, run away from everything and never return. I might’ve done it too, except I could never hurt the people I care about like that. I could never leave my little girl without a mommy, nor could I purposely cause my husband, parents or siblings that much pain. But that’s what was on my mind. Don’t go thinking I’m going to kill myself or anything, or coming with white coats to lock me away (though on second thought that doesn’t sound half bad) I know what that can do to a family, and loved ones, and after losing our son I could NEVER EVER EVER be the cause of that kind of pain to my parents or my husband and princess. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be happy again. I don’t know how to make life better. I don’t know how to feel better. It breaks my heart every time my little girl sees me crying and hugs me and says “whats wrong mommy?” or “feel better mommy” or “miss Reckix mommy?”  I don’t want her to have memories of her mommy being sad and crying all the time. I want to be that happy, laughing, smiling mom that she deserves, but I don’t know how.

I’ve been doing better since the balloon release I don’t breakdown as much or wake up crying as much, I think part of that also just comes with time. I think time just covers the pain like a band-aid, you can put ointment on it, and you can cover it up, but the pain stays, and the scar never goes away. Sometimes I can cover my pain with a smile, but it is always there, just below the surface, waiting to ruin another beautiful day. No one wants to talk about it anymore, and I just feel bad when I bring it up because then everyone gets all awkward and quiet and they don’t know what to say. Only my husband really ever sees how heartbroken I still am. How completely broken I am as a person. How completely overwhelmed I am on a daily basis. I know he worries about me, I wish I could tell him I was ok, or even that I was going to be ok, but I can’t. I don’t even know if I ever will be ok. I want to be. I want to be happy. I don’t want to stress. I don’t want to feel like locking myself in our dungeon room in the basement. If it wasn’t full of spiders I probably would have already.

Most people probably won’t get the reference but there is an early episode of Charmed, where Prue accidentally gets the powers of an empath, which is to feel what every one else is feeling, and because she wasn’t meant to get those powers it causes her to have a breakdown and lock herself in the basement and even shun away family and friends because she can’t handle all the emotion and feelings that are invading her head.

That is how I feel. I can’t handle all this pain, and emotion, and stress and heartbreak, I know it’s part of life, but I’ve had my fill. I can’t take any more!! I feel like my head is literally going to just explode, which is why I am here pouring out my brain into this blog again, venting, because it seems to be the only way to even come close to getting some of it out.

Maybe spiders aren’t so bad after all…


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