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Posts Tagged ‘Co-dependant Survivor’

I knew it was sitting there.

I could feel its weight pressing down on my brain. I could feel it as if it were fire.  I was not touching it, but I could still sense the weight of it in my purse.  There was a little over $4 thousand dollars, right there in my purse.  Blood money, free money, will money, payment for 39 years of being moms “perfect child”, her “sweet baby”.

The stress is getting worse.  The kids are compounding everything I feel.  Just like a crushed tomato tied back together with string, I still ooz and bleed with every touch, jab, word. Ready to fall apart, easier than before.

The weight of depression, hopelessness, growing faster than a storm cloud in my mind. “Why can’t we just have one day of peace? Why can’t I have just a moment to think? Why can’t we just spend a day together without the fighting, the anger, the competition for my affections and favoritism?”

I am exhausted. Just thinking of a simple task like cleaning house or making the bed seem to weigh 500 pounds on my bruised brain.  I want to hide. I want to run away and hide.

The money, it’s right there.  It’s ready to burn my hand the moment I touch it.  I’m supposed to use it for bills, Christmas.. the kids, not me… not for myself, the kids.  Don’t touch it.

I slowly pull myself up in the bed.  I glance at the alarm clock, 2:30p.m.  I had fallen here just moments ago.  My bed a rescue raft, floating in my room for me to grab onto and wail into my pillows until the hopelessness and suicidal thoughts pass on by.  My raft is still shaking, threatening to sink.  I’m screaming inside, “It’s not going to get better! It is NEVER going to get any better!”   The kids will never get “well”.  Neither one has any illness that can be cured.  I will just be stuck in this life for the remainder of mine.  The same violence, the same temper tantrums, the same emotional drainage of mom day after day.  It. Will. Never. Get. Better….

I slowly drag my aching heavy limbs out of the bed and start pulling on clothes.  The argument that had just occurred between my children and I still ravaging my brain like it’s on repeat. The same depressing mantra on repeat:  “Its happened before, it will happen again, again, again, it will happen again.”

I look around the house. It’s a disaster. You would think that my teenage daughter, seeing her mother is drowning, would at least help with the housework.  I start pulling together dirty clothes, I make separate piles of colors and observe how they look like piles of dead leaves.  I will do the laundry, I can at least do that.

I quickly start to come out of the fog, suddenly I’m on fast forward.  Laundry, sweeping, dishes, clutter… each task tackled in a mindless rush. I can at least get these things done. I can at least leave a clean house.

The kids are in the background, sighing, stomping, slamming, sniffling… each, in their own passive aggressive way, are driving the nails into my back.  “You deserted me!”  “You took her side”, “you took his side”, “It’s not my fault!” “It’s all his fault/Her fault/YOUR fault!!” Each silent accusation a dart going into my skin. I ignore each dart with a disinterest, a tear slipping out silently instead.  “Don’t treat me like that”, I cry inside.  “I’m the one that loves you more than life!” “I’m the only one that understands you, but I’m tired!! Don’t yell at me, don’t hurt me! It hurts to be used like an emotional punching bag” “it hurts, It hurts, I HURT!!!”

Instead, I just keep cleaning, tears running down my face.  I want to run and hide, back onto my raft, back into my cave, I want to cling to the safety of the bed and hide. I keep doing the dishes.  I look out the window into the backyard.  Birds, a dog, a squirrel… things that usually make me smile instead make me feel the exhaustion of my own inner darkness.  There is such an anger in being depressed, like, how dare the sun shine when I feel such pain? Does it not care that I can only feel, can only see darkness?

Dishes, concentrate on the dishes.  Concentrate on the work.  Feed the bird, feed the dog, mop the floor, change out the laundry, feel the weight of the money in my mind, count it.. weigh it… smell it.. finish the dishes.  Finish the Dishes.

Freedom is in the weight of that money.  Freedom from everything weighing me down in this house, in this life.  It will never get better, so why stick around?  Why should I stay here and watch it all fall apart?  Why should I be the one to always have to fix, mend, tape, glue, wipe, heal… Why should I be the abused one? I can’t think, I can’t heal, I am supposed to be “momma’s STRONG girl” but my strength was obviously buried along with my mother.  It’s holding her hand in the cold darkness, it is certainly not holding my hand as I struggle to stay afloat.

I finish the dishes, I continue to stand at the sink, the moment has come.  The moment that entered my thoughts as soon as the money hit my hands.  Turn around, walk out the door, fill up the car and just go… just GO…. Walk out the door… WALK OUT THE DOOR…

I can’t seem to move.  Whats the problem?!?! Why am I not doing what I should, what I want, What I know will keep my children safe.  I am the problem, I am the reason their life is so chaotic and horrible.. I should leave, let them move on, let someone more stable and healthy deal with their needs.. I Should Just Leave.

I slowly turn around, away from the sink, away from my old life, away from the accusations and the pain. I turn, I turn away and find myself looking at the alarm clock, the alarm clock beside my bed… 2:35 p.m.

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