Damn all you beautiful girls...

I was sitting across from him.  We were both on our laptops, doing whatever we do.  The kids were in bed for some time and my attempt at blocking life out was not working.

He was deep into what he was doing and I was surface surviving again.  I wanted to talk, but I didn't want to talk.

I shut down my laptop, took a bath, put on a robe and went outside into the apartment.  I stood there and felt my face hot, wet and a headache began to creep in.  I smoked two cigarettes in an effort to calm down, anything to take this feeling away.  I thought about the kids' biological father and his way of using crack to numb it all, and I didn't get it.  These cigarettes were not working.  The drink I had earlier was not working.

He came out side to check on me and I wouldn't face him.  I didn't want him worrying about me.  He had his three kids, his mom who had surgery some time ago and a father who had a stroke just before.  Why add to his load?  Why drag him while he was already down?  He hadn't worked a full time job in a year, his part time brought in the same thing mine brought in.  He has a house in Exuma a family member won't move out of so he can rent it out to make that monthly money.  We weren't making it.  We were slowly drowning.  When his kids' mom called I wanted to scratch her eyes out because, I don't care how long and how well she knows him, I see the angst in him when she calls.  I see the aggravation.  I've been warned by those meaning well not to do too much for his kids, and I find that utterly stupid.  If we are in this together, then how do I not help when I can?  He's taken mine as his own.

I went back inside.  I took down his hunting knife, I took down the homemade one he carved out of steel, I had my penknife.  My mind whirled, if I made some cuts in my own arm, it would redirect my focus.  This is why people cut.  This is why they resort to bizarre behaviour.  BUT, it's like a high, I'll come down from it and will need to do something more drastic for that "fix".

To slice at the end of my own arms, well, I could do that.  However, what about Bub and Jo?  There's no way in hell I could leave them?  Who would take them?  Their aunts' hearts are willing, but whose pocket could take on another two mouths?  Another two mouths that would need counseling because this would be the fucking topper of it all.  Their mother gone?  It would send my son over the edge, with very little chances of returning in full order.  So guess what?

I can cut them too.  With a blade sharp enough, we could all lay down and sleep together.  They're already asleep, so why not?  They'd not know anything, and I can drift off in a blissed out sleep like no other.  Okay, this is a plan, I've already gone in the room and watched them sleep for awhile.  I would have to move one to the other's room, and I don't know if we could all-

He walks in the room and his instinct pricks up, he takes every object laid out in the bed and asks what is wrong.  I say nothing and go out front and find the razor blade.  He has turned off the kids' room lights.  I turn on the laptop, making him think I am okay.  Then he goes in the room to bed.  Somehow, he's back out front and wanting to know why I have all the lights on again.  He's talking, I am talking, I am crying and I am not backing down.  When he puts it together, the hurt in his eyes, it unnerved me somewhere deep in the back of my mind, but I was too far gone to care right then.  He grabbed me by my throat and I told him let me take my kids with me first.  "You wait until I have an attachment to them and you talk shit?"  I told him I didn't care and he slammed me against the wall.

I don't know if my fearlessness freaked him out, but he was in full papa bear mode.  He dragged me in the room and I went back out.  He went to get something and came back and I was laying in bed with Jojo.  He took the razor blade from me and turned off all the lights again and dragged me out of her bed.

I fell apart, I cried and cried.  I couldn't catch my breath, and words tumbled from me I have never said to anyone.  I rambled on and on and just couldn't come to.  I dream about mummy a lot when I am stressed out.  And it's always comforting, and I hate waking up, I want to be with her, I want that feeling of her being around.  I want to tell her what's going on and it's not her making things work or fixing it, it's her presence and just talking to her that I need.  There's no replacement, and even so, they're all dead too.  If I go to sleep and don't wake up, it would be better.  It's less stress on everyone and less worry. Sure, everyone would tsk tsk tsk for a while, and then I'd be just a memory and everyone would go on.  I am tired and exhausted and it hurts all day everyday and I just fake smile and wave and I can't do it anymore.  I got up to go out the room again, he was holding me and I wrenched away.

He flung me down on our bed and and held one arm down with his other arm across my chest/neck.  I kept telling him, don't let me go without them, and he got angrier.  His hand slipped around my neck and part of me wanted to goad him on while the other part of me worried about the kids.  He let go as I stared him back eye to eye, unnerved, gasping for air, but not backing down.

Eventually, I sat back, I propped up against the headboard, and I sat still.  I breathed, he laid down, and I still sat.  Then I thawed out and snuggled up under him.  His hand found my hair and all was right with the world for that moment...

Done

I am done.  Spent.  Beyond it.

I will not invest ten plus more years of my life investing in another empty space.

How do I detangle, unwrap, defuse, unwrap my kids' hearts?

I am so fucking tired of this shit.

I am too young and too old  for this all at the same time.

This is just so overrated.

I will never get married again.

I will never give again.

Because, too many times I have learned the hard way, it's not worth it.

Some people find what they are looking for and some don't.

Even the disillusion with the one I had a mad crush on has been obliterated.

So.  Fucking.  Done.