Returning To The World

If I am honest with myself, I've become hermit-like. I hide at home, behind the reason that I'm tired/I feel sick/I have stuff to do. The reality is, I got nothing. I waste so much time doing nothing, getting nothing done. It's a dangerous place to be. I'm aware enough to know this. I have no desire to see friends or family. If I could, I would talk to no one. All I want are my kids around me because they are my only anchors to this earth. They don't even have to talk to me, they just have to be there.

There is a part of me that hopes everything goes to shit, so I can finally reveal my true self, so I can leave this situation and adjust my life to a level that is more truthful. But pride is still the stronger emotion. The only thing worse than feeling nothing is feeling shame.

There are tiny tremors in my heart as I write. It feels like small skips, or should I say trips. The moments between beats is like the empty spaces in my chest where joy and laughter ought to be. When I think about my future, the trips echo loudly. Why? Because I see nothing. All I see is the daily effort to be calm and content while my body inevitably marches towards old age and disappearing into nothing, being nothing, having nothing.

I will die without a home, without peace, struggling to the very end. This is the rotten core of the apple that is my tender heart.

Deadly Sins

Envy (noun), a feeling of discontented or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck.

It eats at my insides everyday.

Making Yourself Forget Is Still Forgetting

I'm back, therefore it's safe to assume that it's been a bad day. I'm back, therefore it's safe to assume that I've been floundering again.

One bad day, I can take. One bad day in the middle of general despair and desperation, I end up crying bitter tears. At church. In the middle of the night.

I wish I could talk about this to someone but I really, really don't think there is anyone in my life right now who can understand what I'm feeling. I know how I will sound like to someone outside of my head and heart. My sons live with me and they see nothing but an occasionally cranky mom who prefers to "rest" than to work. They don't know that my "rest" is my way of holding the despair at bay. I've learned to empty my mind at will, to zone out and forget. I'm called forgetful but I'm grateful for it. Who wants to remember everything? Not me. I wish I could forget whole swaths of my life.

The same way I learned not to sleep while my husband was in treatments, I've learned to forget about the things that cause me anxiety. I "forget" about things I need to buy because I can't afford it. I forget about the things I used to want. I forget about the life I used to live. I forget about things I need to do. I forget about money because I don't like how I feel when I think about it.

And yes, I also forget about exercise because I no longer care. I'm an impostor anyway. I might as well look as bad as how I feel inside.

How To Bite Off More Than You Can Chew And Choke

I give up, I really do. I can't handle this anymore. I can't talk to anyone about this because it's too embarrassing to admit that I really can't be here. This place isn't anything I can afford but I forced the situation because I was talked into it (Mom) and I hoping to create a space for the BF and I. But I know he doesn't like being here anyway, even if he doesn't say anything. I don't think he'll ever be comfortable with the boys around, simple as that. Also, turns out I don't really need the 3rd room as an office. I still find myself working on the floor and on the dining table.

So why am I really here? To make it seem to everyone that I'm okay? That I'm moving up in life? BS. What business do I have being here when I can't even manage the expenses that come with being in a bigger place? Cut the extra maid, cut the association dues, cut the aircon, cut the lights, cut the garden and watering of plants. Buy less, sell more, eat simpler.

I feel like such a fake, living in this address with a bank account of zero. This month, I can't afford my personal luxuries. This month, I did my own nails and cut my own hair. This month, I will massage my own feet. This month, I will be late on many of my bills. This month, I cannot afford to service the air conditioner so electric fan it is.

If the BF had the true picture of my life, he will just tell me it's my fault, that I have the capability to earn enough, that I'm just lazy and don't listen to his suggestions. How can I tell him that I can't "listen" to his suggestions because I'm so busy juggling everyday that I'm mentally fatigued and have no desire to work? That each suggestions costs more money that I don't have to spare? Worry eats up my insides and accomplishing regular orders is already a mountain to climb.

He thinks I diminish him (he won't admit he used the word small) when I tell him "you don't understand what I go through", but it is true. Truer than anything I know. No one else but me can know how I feel, how tortured my mind can be sometimes, how I just pray for the same thing on repeat: "money".

Afloat and Adrift

I don't know how to describe how I feel. Left out of life, maybe? Stuck in a rut? Dissatisfied? All I know is that there is something going on again, and my biggest clues are hiding out in my room with music plugged into my ear, and random weepiness. I think I'm pissed about something, but even I can tell it's not proportional... What is the real issue? What is making me feel like I want to chuck it all (again)?

Sometimes I stand in the middle of my bedroom and look at everything around me, imagining throwing it all out the window and living with nothing except a bed and some clothes. Of course I would have to become anti-social because I would never show myself dressed in rags.

It kinda makes sense because the very appealing image in my head is that of a dark cave that no one enters unless they are invited in. It is a cave deep inside a mountain. It is quiet and safe, and there is a small spring of water inside. The water is the only noise that will keep me company. Gentle ripples and soft, slow drips, just enough noise to keep me company without disturbing my silence.

I sometimes think that without Facebook, I would have zero friends by now. I have stopped reaching out to friends. It's hard to do that now when I have no money to spare for "luxuries". So I'm just cutting it all off. The consequence here is that I spend more time with the BF's friends, more than my own. The little time I spend "out" is with someone else's friends. I think I just figured out that this is what is giving me a floating feeling.

Is this what it feels like to be afloat without an anchor? No friends to remind you that you are an adult with consequence? Peers who care and love simply? My children should be my anchor, but they feel more like my companions in a life raft. Why a life raft? Because my entire life feels like an emergency situation after a grand, sinking disaster.

The little things that happen to make me happy are just illusions. When you strip it down to what it is, my life is, in fact, an emergency situation. All I'm managing to do is stay afloat and alive for my kids. If it were just me, I would just lie down and let the sun burn me to oblivion.

Broke and Broken

Here I am again, broke as fuck. I don't know how I keep myself in this situation, but I honestly feel like I'm frozen in time. I can't move, I can't change. I have no idea what to do. I have no vision of the future. All I see is me scraping by, day by day, until I die.

I don't know what I'm waiting for, maybe it has to come to a point where I have less than nothing. I can't even admit to myself how desperate the situation is because there's always that (good or bad?) little voice in my head that soothes me into inaction... "Just wait, something good will happen. Someone will help you, someone will save you from yourself."

I try to introspect, because the truth of the matter is, I've been barely surviving for the longest time and I can't see why I sabotage myself. I know I'm lazy, but I also have some pride. But it's a bad combination because this is what makes me hide. I cannot talk about my financial problems because I am deeply ashamed. Instead, I blame everything else outside of me: Lack of business, too much expenses of the kids, stuff breaking down, staff problems, and ultimately, the death of Cyril.

The feeling that keeps me heavy is anger and resentment. I DID NOT ASK FOR THIS. I am not prepared to be a single mom of three. How can I be expected to take care of four people when I can barely care for myself? I don't know a single person like me and it's so unfair. I don't have the tools, I wasn't taught anything about survival in the real world. I can't wrap my head around it, even now, five years later.

Most days I can bury my head in the sand, but when shit hits the fan (aka 'broke as fuck'), it floods my brain. I feel like a loser but at the same time, I blame the world. I can't get past my personal barriers. I cannot succeed until I hurdle my emotional obstacles.

The irony is that I need money to do this. Therapy is the only way to get clarity. No amount of prayer is enough. Sometimes I feel like praying is just like me and my mind pretending to figure things out, when actually, it's just the blind leading the blind.

I just want to crawl into bed and die. I'm not afraid to die, you know. The only thing that would break my heart is having the boys suffer inside. And so I try, because I don't want them to be unprepared for their lives. I keep up the facade so they feel safe. If they only knew.

Today, I cried. Today, I reached a breaking point. Today, I looked at my bank account and felt so useless. Today, I had to "borrow" money to buy medicines. Today, I couldn't admit to someone I love that I need help. Today, my pride still ruled. Tomorrow, I will wake up. Tomorrow, I still won't know how to solve my problems. Tomorrow, I will go to work despite my overwhelming insecurity. Tomorrow, I will try not to think. One day, I won't wake up with anxiety. One day, I won't worry about how to pay for my children's needs. One day, the burden will be eased. One day, I will leave it all behind. One day, I will rest in peace, in the arms of my Father. Till then.