Wtf

Wtf wtf wtf wtf

Question...

If you live a life full of good deeds, but the true notice behind these good deeds is to repent for the unforgivably horrible things you've done long, long ago, is there any selflessness in your gift? Is everything you've done tainted? Does it matter?

Baby

This really sucks. It's so wrong... how did it come to this? I feel like I failed you by losing, but I know it all came down to money. But I lost access to the most precious person in the world to me. I hope our bond will be able to remain through this. I will keep fighting for you in whatever way I can. I miss you so much. I love you so much. It breaks my heart that we're apart right now. I always did the best I could for you... I hope you know that. I think you do.

Letter to mom

It's been hard without you... there has been a lot going on. I have good support, but nobody could ever replace you. I miss you every day. I'm not sure what else to say, really. I feel like the chapter has closed, though I still talk to you from time to time, just in case you can hear me. Sometimes I ask your advice and think of what you would probably say. I miss our weekend bonfires, and really everything. Walking the dog together, even just getting groceries... texting each other from opposite ends of the house. I just miss you. I'm OK, but I miss you, and I could sure use your help. I'm in a mess right now. I know I can sort it out on my own... I have faith in myself, but it would be easier with you, even just for support.
I love you always 💜

Dream

This morning, I dreamt that I was driving. I was just going along as always, the car was going smoothly, no issues. I was approaching a draw bridge, which was apparently just part of my commute. Suddenly, the ground before the bridge ahead of me opened up and started swallowing cars and huge parts of the road. I waited where I was, calmly hoping it wouldn't swallow me. The draw bridge lowered into the ground several feet. Eventually, the movement stopped and some of the cars ahead of me started just going over it, kind of jumping it. I saw them make it. When it was my turn, I took my shot, and I made it, too. Then I woke up. I was late.

What I would do if I won the lottery

I often hear of lottery winners suddenly dropping tons of cash on major luxuries... 5 bedroom houses, over priced cars, etc. They immediately quit their jobs, which I've never understood...

I would buy my 200k home (that I currently rent), pay off my student loans, ask for a couple weeks off (and spend it helping my daughter readjust to doing schoolwork), take my dog to the vet, buy the big bags of food for the animals, take my car in for an oil change, fix my daughter's car (headlights, trunk lock, oil change), pay off other debts, and probably hire a housekeeper once a week. Once my daughter was more independent in her schoolwork, maybe I'd go back to school. I would definitely visit my endocrinologist... and buy conditioner... I'd take my daughter to a salon and have them dye her hair whatever color she wants it that day. Oh and of course, I'd pay that tailor the $5 he wants to fix the zippers on my purse.

Maybe in a few years, I'd buy a small second home on Maui, with enough space to have a guest or two, but most of what I'd do is just practical stuff... this is probably a terribly boring post, but this is the perspective of someone who has been "working poor" their entire life...

Triggers

I love my job, but looking back on old posts makes it abundantly clear that it can be triggering at times. For example, until I helped someone withdraw from heroin, I hadn't thought about it in years. The thought alone sent my mind into a bit of a spiral... I maintained stability, of course, I always do... but it was hard. I gave my demons every single day that I show up to work. Just today, I congratulated the group I held for showing up and sharing because there's no way I could be that brave, especially when I was in the state they're in. I was not alone in this sentiment. Just some thoughts. Gotta go back in now.

That day...

Yes. I can VIVIDLY recall spending what felt like an eternity desperately searching your entire body trying to come up with a pulse and not finding one. Yes. It did destroy me. At no point did it affect my ability to parent. At no point did it affect my ability to assess the situation for what it was. Mottled skin, dark blue lips, no palpable pulse, no respiratory activity. But my training has taught me that when someone isn't breathing, a pulse can be slight enough to be difficult to detect, and I knew from taking yours regularly that yours already was. So I started CPR, because that's what I'm trained to do. I knew there was less than a 1% chance it would work (even though you were warm when we got there - the most frustrating part), but I did my best. I gave it my all. According to the paramedics, I broke several ribs, which means I did it right (having done it before so many times, I'm not surprised. I know CPR). I ducked out the minute they arrived because I knew I lacked both the physical and emotional stamina to stay in that room with your lifeless body and continue chest compressions for another hour. I knew I wouldn't be as useful as someone who wasn't your daughter. Could I have compartmentalized and worked through it and done it anyway? Yes. But it would've caused more psychological trauma, and I knew I couldn't revive you. I had already tried for at least 15 minutes and that's about how long it usually takes if it's going to work. So I ducked out when they got there, desperately hoping their ied and medications could restart your heart, never letting them know I'd already tried to revive you. Perhaps that's why the detectives questioned me so long... that was when it came out that I gave you CPR. I am a healthcare provider. I know how this works. I know that if a trained family member is seen doing it, they will be instructed to continue doing so for at least an hour, even when it's abundantly clear that it will not work. And I just couldn't do it. Yes. I have flashbacks still. Yes, these moments haunt me. But I have not let up for a minute on parenting my child. She is and always has been my #1 priority. I've come out of this a stronger person and to say otherwise is incredibly insulting and inaccurate. I have to go to work now.

More work stuff

It is a felony to assault a healthcare worker. However, it is abuse if that healthcare worker fights back after having been assaulted. We will probably have a new job opening at work very soon. I cannot imagine becoming violent with a patient... I cannot even imagine allowing the situation to escalate to that point to begin with... we work with vulnerable and unstable people. They are locked up like rats in a cage, their medications are switched all over the place, their life circumstances have often been incredibly traumatic... of course they sometimes lash out. But, as the provider, you recognize it for what it is (even when you're being targeted), and you walk away.

My beautiful daughter

My beautiful daughter is doing OK, for the most part... I'm so glad to see her better. It was really hard to see her in the hospital. She's still got way too much going on, and a lot of issues... including lingering symptoms of c diff, and more importantly, the blood clot... but we're handing it. She is doing a great job doing everything she needs to do. I love her so much.

Suicidal ideation

The past few weeks, I've been increasingly suicidal... I don't really know why... I have a new boyfriend who is like ativan... he's amazing... he listens to everything I tell him and remembers it, he treats me better than anyone ever has, shows genuine care for me... and he knows MUCH of my story, which I find odd because most guys bolt when they hear anything about my past...

Things at work are fine. Things at home are bearable, but tiring.

But the thoughts persist, and they're getting stronger. I just want a fat, lethal dose of heroin. I'm tired and I want it to be over. He doesn't know I feel like this, he just knows I'm tired and stressed... and he does whatever he can to facilitate comfortable sleep and rest and relaxation... he's really good at it. Going to his house is like going on vacation. And it's so clean there. But I am keeping the knives locked up so I won't start cutting again. I am scared to talk to anybody about what's really going on inside right now. So I just sit here in bed, alone, miserable. And so tired. It's getting sunny and my old scars are starting to show... I showed some to a consumer who couldn't believe I used to self harm. I showed him a failed suicide attempt, too. And told him about some of the heroin overdoses... my mom didn't even know so many of those were intentional. I'm a smart cookie... I can count.

Fuck everything

I came so close to killing myself tonight in my driveway. I don't know if it's because my meds are fucked up, because my life is fucked up, or because my mother's birthday is coming up, but I very sincerely wanted to die tonight. I still do. I am here for my child only. I have no other reason to live. I have a very fulfilling job that I'm very good at, and I love it even though it doesn't pay the bills... I am fortunate enough to be able to use the shitstorm that has been my 34 years to help others, and I love that. But it's not enough to keep me on this planet by itself at all. If I didn't have my daughter, I would've killed myself before the cancer did. Heroin, maybe?? I was trying to remember, the other day, how many times I've overdosed on it... how many times my loving mother had to literally carry me to the hospital... I tried to remember how many of those times were intentional and I just never told anyone... I tried to remember how the hell I kicked... and why... but that time period is all a blur... all I can ever remember us how good it felt when it hit... I have a patient right now who is coming out of detoxing from heroin and wish I could share my story with her to help... I can see in her face that she knows, but I can't remember shit... I think I kicked for my mother. God, I miss heroin...

Picking up shifts

Picking up shifts... 16 hour days. Chairs flying through walls. Toilet paper dispensers being kicked off the wall. Fights breaking out. Yelling and cursing and shoving. Seclusion and restraint. People fearing their doors is poisoned, but not by us. Jumping off of bridges. For point restraints on gurneys. And stop shining that fucking light in my eyes while I'm trying to sleep! I hate all of you fucking people! I don't belong here! I'm not crazy! Whatever they said I did isn't true because I don't remember it! I never chased anyone with a knife! That doesn't sound like me at all!

Fuck everything

Fuck life. Fuck money. Fuck people. Fuck. Those are all the fucks I have left to give today. I can't sleep, I can't afford my grossly overpriced medications, I can't afford my grossly overpriced doctors. When I think back on my life, I remember the hell I've been through and wonder when it will stop. I didn't get a birthday this year because no one cares. I'm ALWAYS there for EVERYBODY. I think I got maybe two texts. My daughter said happy birthday, which was nice, but then, like a grown up, I went to work, where nobody cared, and went about my day.

I hope I win the lottery soon because otherwise I'm just selling my whole life to a job that doesn't care about me. Fuck this shit.

My fuck you letters

Fuck you and your refusal to pay child support. Fuck you and your bullshit insistence that you're putting "enormous amounts of effort" into trying to get our child to want to spend time with you when she actually only hears from you once a month, if that. Fuck all your shit talking to her about me. She sees right through you, she knows you're a douche and that's why she doesn't want to spend time with you... that and your child of a girlfriend. Fuck your accusations of me telling her terrible things about you. If you knew anything about me, you'd know I realize that would only hurt her. A child should think well of her father. I've done nothing but try to facilitate that for the last 13 years. You've been partially around for almost 5 now, and blame me for everything that's wrong between the two of you. The saddest part is that she actually still wants a relationship with your sorry ass,  but you're making it nearly impossible. Yelling at her won't make her want to see you, neither will yelling at me. Maybe you should take that parenting class you were court ordered to take but didn't feel you "needed". Do you have any idea what kinds of sacrifices OUR CHILD has  made FOR YOU? Fuck you and the tantrum throwing bitch you're engaged to. Our child deserves better role models than a barely there father who beats animals and a child with no anger management skills. And the next time she's denied her LIFE SAVING medication on your watch, you can bet I'm calling it in, asshole.

And a great big fuck you too the pierce county medical examiner's office for fucking up my mom's autopsy so bad that I had to request pictures to make sure you didn't switch the bodies! You assholes missed EVERYTHING! I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure a standard autopsy doesn't take two months even when there are no leads. But because you guys literally messed up every detail, we will never know why my perfectly healthy 50 year old mother just didn't wake up. I just got her ashes. She died 11/23/14. Wtf were you guys doing?? No time of death, no cause of death, you missed a rather sizable tattoo... her labs had to be drawn twice because you messed them up... her final death certificate reads, "pregnant? Unknown". She was 50, had her tubes tied, and had gone through menopause. It seems to me that if you've got no leads, you ought to look EVERYWHERE. one idiot early on told me it was alcohol poisoning, with a BAC of 0.05. Really?? I wish I could sue you. Fuck you.

I don't wanna be here

I don't want to be a part of this world anymore. I don't feel like I belong here, I feel like I'm just scraps of something that used to be part of the world, but I'm torn apart and the pieces are blowing away into the wind. I used to be part of the world... Now it just goes and goes and goes and I'm here all alone, a little pile of dust. I don't live anymore, I barely exist. I can't help but wonder why it wasn't me that died... I have way more health problems... And far fewer people would miss me. That day the world stood still, or at least we did... The medical examiner's personnel rushed all over in a big flashy blur... But we just stood there, shell shocked... Why am I still here? Why do I have to be? Do I have to be? Could I just let myself slip away? I fantasize about leaving every day... Sure, there are things I'd like to do before I go, but there's no viable way to do them any time in the foreseeable future... And everything is tainted with gut wrenching misery, so I never really enjoy it. "you deserve to be happy"... What is happy, anyway? And how can you be sure I deserve it? You don't know me. You don't know that in my darkest hour I wished unspeakable things... You don't know what came before all that, either. You're supposed to be family, but you really don't know anything about me, or any of us, for that matter... For all you know, I don't even deserve to be on this planet. I don't want to be... It feels like torture. Every day. I can't think of someone who deserves to die more than someone who is suffering and no longer experiences joy... Someone who wants to die. Isn't that what assisted suicide is for? In one country (i forget which one), they are allowing access to assisted suicide for people who are suffering mentally. Why not here? We certainly aren't doing enough to help those who are suffering here... I feel like I accidentally showed up to a meeting for all the big wigs and I'm just a peon going, "do I really have to stay?". Why? At work the other day, a drug rep came in and wanted to give me her whole spiel about some drug I've never even heard of... I just showed up for the free lunch, but this lady insisted on getting me to sign in and then proceeded to talk my ear off about things I don't even understand because I'm just a tech... I don't handle meds... That's how I feel about life. Do I really have to stay? What's the point? All I wanted was lunch...

Family secrets

Yesterday, we learned that my grandfather was not my mother's father. We will never know who her father was. I wonder how my mom would've handled that... I can imagine her grieving the loss of her father and then suddenly finding out he wasn't her father... She'd be so confused...
He wasn't a good man... Which is part of the reason this is so confusing. He molested children, and hit on my mother a few times... I remember her telling me how horrified she was at the things he said... Something like, if you weren't my daughter, we could have a lot of fun. She was in her thirties and having lunch with him. He was married, although obviously, this was creepy all on its own...
I can't believe the bastard lived to his 70s.

Meh.

Stop then start
Go go go gotta keep it up
Be quick be strong be smart
The dragon's warming up, up above
But keep your head up, up high
But why? And where is the love?

It's lonely at the top
Wriggling in the sky, drowning in the air
Stop then start then stop

Reasons to live

1. So my daughter won't feel this pain yet and because she needs me
2. I love my dog and don't know where he'd end up without me
3. Teresa wouldn't do well living with her father
4. I love the cats
5. I love my job
6. I love my friends
7. I need to travel more before I die
8. I want to get better at the guitar
9. I want to get better at crochet

More crap

I can't afford to go to my psychiatrist, and we were in the process of switching me to a different mood stabilizer (because this one wasn't working well enough) so my mood stabilizer dose is so low, it's not even an effective dose. I can't afford my antipsychotic, so I'm not taking it. I'm basically not medicated, other than so many benzos... At least I haven't built up a tolerance to the benzos, but my sleeping pill no longer makes me sleep. It's just like a couple extra xanax now. My meds are a mess, my head's a mess, and I can't sleep. I'm overanalyzing and all over the place. I wish I had gone back to work sooner. Then I'd probably have health insurance, be a couple thousand dollars closer to on track, and not wondering how I'm gonna buy trash bags. I'm back to applying for food stamps, and this year my refund will be around $100. I'm grateful I don't owe.
A lot of stuff has been coming up about my past and I don't know how to deal with it. I know, I know, live sucks, move on. I have obviously, or I'd be stuck in some abusive relationship. But it's weird to think about. But the money's really been grating on me, even though I know it's temporary.