Saturday, September 5, 2009

When she was good, she was very, very good...but when she was bad, she was horrid!

The nights have nearly become unbearable. Friday’s are always bad for me, but DT usually makes me feel a little better because she emails me on Friday’s. Of course she left for vacation yesterday morning, so there was no email. She left Friday morning, so she could have sent one before leaving – but of course not…because it isn’t important to HER, it’s important to ME!

On Thursday, when I expressed my angst about her vacation, she said, “its only 3 emails” – brushing it off like it wasn’t a big-deal. Yeah, not a big deal to her because she isn’t LIVING the hell I LIVE every fucking night!!!! There are literally times when those emails will keep me in reality, I feel like someone cares, and she gives me a moment of ‘hope’, a reason to hold on. She knows that, but it isn’t important to her – it’s not her life.

Last night, I was sitting on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, with a bottle of wine and a kitchen knife, carving little pieces out of my body. I wanted to die. Let me take that statement back, I'm already dead. There is nothing left of me. I am an empty shell walking around wishing someone would kill me so I don' to have to do it myself.

Mercy Killing!

When I woke up this morning, I woke up to find several cuts and blood all over myself. But, the key here, the sucky part, is that I woke up. Some day that will not be the case. I sure hope she isn't surprised when it happens. Because she sure brushes it off like it isn't important.

Sometimes, at night, before I completely lose it, I think, this is it. Tonight will be the night. Finally! Tonight, my guardian angel will come and and take me away. And there will be no more pain. No more nights of hell.

She doesn't see it. That, like everything else, is probably my fault because I don't communicate well. I won't tell her about it...I've said things in the past and she doesn't hear me, she won't do anything, she doesn't help me with the night time.

"Grace, find a way to stay in your body." DT, you fucking live in my body for 1 fucking night and then tell me to stay here! You have no fucking idea what it's like! Take off your pink-tinged glasses and feel what I feel for 1 fucking day! I 'challenge' you to that ~ just like you 'challenge' me to stay present.

And when I think about it, it makes me fucking mad! I love how she leaves me a piece of paper with the 'local' hospital telephone numbers. Like I would ever fucking call! I'd die first!

I hate her right now. I needed her help and she leaves me a piece of fucking paper with some phone numbers on it? It would have been more helpful if she would have left me several packages of guaze and some straight razors. Maybe some fucking vodka! And not the cheap stuff, DT, not the fucking cheap stuff! I fucking hate her!

I don't want to feel this anymore.
So, I'm going to go now and have several strong drinks!
And then a several ativan...and maybe I'll finally bleed out!
So, DT, you can 'stay present' in your body - but I'm outta here!

Let the 'border' fall where she may, DT!


  1. Thank you, Lynn.
    They just don't get it! "here's a quarter, call someone who cares...I'm off the clock"!
    God, I get so fucking mad!!!
    I wonder why I even fucking continue with this at all!
    Does it really help?
    Or is it just making things worse?

  2. Sometimes I wonder the same thing. Right now I don't know the answer.