Sunday.

It’s Sunday; and sometime in early December…I hate the holidays.

I have been in a notably embittered state of being as of late; I wake up in a shit mood and spend my day feeling either numb or way too much emotion, shuffle my feet around and paint makeup on my face, do my normal routine of being a pissed-off and resentful human being for x amount of hours – before I will eventually (and still angrily) find my way to bed and fitfully fall asleep (Gods willing).

I am at home; I am surrounded by cheering men; men who honestly have very little concern in life outside of Fantasy Football rankings and Christmas shopping for the so-called “difficult” women with whom each has settled down with.

I am somewhere I did not really anticipate being, somehow; despite the situation I have been held hostage inside of (in the context of Boo) for all of these painful and dehumanizing years… I somehow never genuinely considered the possibility of such a circumstance as that which I now find myself: a place where motherhood does not live; a place where years of invested time, love, energy and hope can be found strangled into lifelessness and shriveling up in the unforgiving heat, a place where the thought of my only child makes my stomach feel sick in the most literal sense.

When I look at Boo’s face, I now see only her father’s there; his features stand out so strongly against the muted ones I contributed…there is actually very, very little of me anywhere in here at all. I keep finding myself thinking about abstract and unimportant trivia when it comes to the unhappy ending of this story; things like:

  • How the abusive, violent, backstabbing, murderous and psychopathic piece of trash of a father was able to imprint so many horrible characteristics and traits upon her without hardly ever knowing her;
  • How chillingly similar everything about the two of them has turned out to be, despite EVERYTHING I tried in order to make sure that couldn’t happen;

The thought that seems to be stuck like a piece of chewed up gum to the forefront of my exhausted mind is constantly buzzing inside my ear, asking me

“How is any of this even possible?”

There comes no response of course, just the same query over and over until my head hurts.

I have a seething and roiling hatred growing inside of me that feels bad, and is shocking in its severity. I feel disgust over so many things in the world, especially in my own little corner of it; I am lost and aimless, emotionally numb and going through motion after motion. I am turned off. I am tuned out. I am shut down. It comes to this crazy thought every time, the one in which I have sold everything I own worth anything and just POOF! disappeared into the masses of the urban jungles somewhere, where? I don’t know or care. I have been gradually been ridding myself of all the boxes full of hope that I have lugged around with me for the years Boo was gone: craft supplies, old drawings and school papers of hers, clear tubs of pens and pencils and crayons and scrap-booking shit for days. I won’t ever need or use any of it; that time has passed for me now.

The freedom attached to suddenly not being anyone’s Mom feels alien, even as it feels okay on some days, almost tolerable. Other days, I wake up with both middle fingers locked straight upwards; other times, I just want to die.

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12 thoughts on “Sunday.

  1. Hi ya my friend, I can’t offer much in the way of thoughts of inspiration or en couragement for you as I’m sure you don’t need to hear it. Just know that you’re special, I think of how you’re doing a great deal and I’m always sending love and hugs to you. For whatever it’s worth… x

    Liked by 2 people

  2. My heart goes out to you in these unsettling times and season. I keep lighting candles, and will do so until I burn the dang place down or you receive peace in your heart and mind, dear Friend. Sending big hugs your way…………… ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 👀 ♥ * ͜ * ♥ 👀
    thankfully Confession is quick when you’re mute, drop off your list, walk away so you don’t have to listen to the Priest talk to himself over and over again. One of these days, he’ll figure out I’m not even Catholic………………….
    well, not officially, I was asked to leave but didn’t listen after moving away from that area………………………………

    Liked by 1 person

      • You may be right, sometimes my God is probably glad I’m mute, keeps me from having to ask forgiveness for my constant “Foot in mouth” occurrences.👀 ♥ * ͜ * ♥ 👀
        My former Priest says me being Mute opens up 3 slots for those “perfect” folks…. He became a real Friend after Wife and Daughters passed on. He keeps a watch on me through my Kids and emails&texts.

        Liked by 1 person

        • George
          You are sincerely an inspiring survivor in a world full ugliness and strife…you have encouraged me so often with your calm and solid presence for so many moons now. I am honored that you belong to my “cyber family” and am proud to know you. Hugs.

          Liked by 1 person

          • You are a welcome addition to my Clan. We haven’t had it easy nor has life been fair to us, but like you, we are determined to never give up, never give in and still remain true to ourselves and each others. P.S. I didn’t burn down the church last night, but on the other hand I lit so many candles, we didn’t need electricity to see the altar either. The quiet lets me concentrate on the people that need thoughts and prayers to keep on keeping on. I look at my Nieces and Grands and realize I have to fight for their future, not worry about my past. Big Hugs for you across the desert skies and clouds above. TN doesn’t have sand like the beach, but plenty of Nature’s blessings to adore and admire. Helps calm my soul in this world of fear mongering and hateful divisiveness. It’s got to get better, if we just don’t give up or lose hope. xoxoxo

            Liked by 1 person

  3. Too often words fail me in response to yours–you’re bold to share with us; I hope it helps. Just remember that it’s a process, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel–even if the tunnel is curved a bit and its tempting to surrender in that pitch dark middle. You’ll get through, and it will be better.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I thinking writing def helps…anyone…
      And the support and good energy that I get from you (and the rest of my cyber family here) is the only means of actual consistent acknowledgment that I have amidst such chaos and confused emotions for me…
      I’ve said it before but, your supportive presence helps me very much. Thank you.

      Like

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