Okay, I'm not very good at keeping this as a regular place to blog but I haven't made it become part of my daily routine yet either.
I woke up today, screaming and yelling at my dead grandmother. I think it was really a visitation from her but it could have been me just working through some issues.
I've been going through some crap lately. Where to begin? My boyfriend/lover/partner - whatever you want to call him decided that we should "take a break" a few Saturdays ago. He immediately announced to the world, his family and friends that he was again single. So, I guess that the “working things out” bit no longer applied. I was fine with that and then proceeded to announce to the world that I too was now single. It was no surprise to my family and most of my friends already knew about it via the ex. Okay, so what, it’s a break up – what's the big deal?
The big deal is that this is the second time in my life that I have completely giving up my life, job, family and friends for someone else, just to have it all backfire, turn my life upside down and pull me through the wringer. After months of him begging me to move with him to another state, giving up the majority of my precious (and very little) vacation time to house hunt. So, I take the leap, quit my job, move to another state and three months later, still unemployed am also now no longer in a relationship, and am having to figure out what to do next.
I’ve moved into the spare bedroom (and was told I couldn’t keep my desk in the office anymore – so my computer and all the accoutrement have also been moved into the small guest bedroom). We are still adjusting to the new living situation but living together as roommates is a lot better than how we were living as partners. He doesn’t treat me like crap most of the time now either. But I don’t really want to talk about him or this situation just yet, if ever.
My point is, that this is the second time my life has been up heaved and torn apart. The first was for my grandmother. I gave up my life, my job, my church, my friends, my family of choice and all that I had accomplished to move back home to take care of her. She was 90, she died at 97. I gave up the best years of my life and am now suffering for it. It would have been okay but all the promises made to me, such as her house was supposed to go to me and certain items from her estate would become mine – all was taken away from me. Long story – for a later telling. But needless to say, it was caused by my greedy Aunt Hallene, Uncle Harry and Cousin Della. The house and many of my possessions and items promised to me where taken away and I was left with nothing except hatred, frustration and emptiness. They ruined my life and my plans, which still affects me to this very day.
The reason for that tirade was to make you understand that this is the second time I’ve given up my life for someone and everything comes crashing down around me. I’ll never again follow the premise of “do the right thing” because it always has extreme negative consequences for me. I was asked this past weekend by a friend, “Will it take you three times or is this enough?” I hope this is enough.
I went to a Pride festival in another town this weekend to get away, not think about my crap and enjoy myself for a change. I ended up marching in the parade which was something I hadn’t planned or expected to do. I made some new friends and being “new meat” in town – was bombarded with guys lusting over me and each one of them trying to get me in bed. It was refreshing and I really enjoyed it, although, I could have done without the attention from a few of them. The one guy I wanted to hook up with never showed but he had friends show up from out of state and his dog had puppies, so I’ll forgive him this time, but he better make up for it next time I come to town, lol.
I was staying with a friend. I was kinda worried about how we would get along because I’ve often seen him in a drug and/or alcohol induced state and it’s not always pretty. Come to find out, he’s kicked the wicked drugs and limits his drinking. We got along great. He is unemployed to, so, although both of us were broke, we had a lot to talk about and enjoyed each other’s company. His phone is always ringing and/or friends and neighbors are stopping by. I like that. I miss having friends; having people to talk to and having people feel comfortable enough just to be able to stop by without having to call first.
Such was the case with our mutual friend who wanted to commit suicide. The friend that I was visiting decided to stay in for the night, rather than go out and party. I had brought along some DVD’s and had just started watching one of my favorite movies (My House in Umbria) when the mutual friend showed up at the door. We restarted the movie and the three of us cuddled together on the couch. Afterwards we ordered Chinese and sat around the table talking.
The friend who unknown to us; was wanting to commit suicidal learned of my current situation, became upset and began to cry. The three of us talked about my situation and I was put through the wringer being told that I needed to work through my anger issues and what not. I didn’t come to work on my issues, I came to avoid them. Late into the evening our host went to bed and the two of us went to bed on the futon. I spent most of the night holding him, cuddling with him, giving him a shoulder to cry on and throughout the next 24 hours learned that he had stopped by to say a final good-bye. He had been on his way to commit suicide but my story and my problems made his seem so small and insignificant. It gave him a new perspective.
There is a LOT more to this story than what is being told but privacy issues aside, they don’t really need to be said. My friend is now in recovery in a hospital. Two days later, I am “home”, back with the ex and backing living in my own personal hell, my own situation. I have some new leads on job opportunities and friends who want me to come live with them just to get away from my ex. I am loved. But I still have issues, anger, resentment, disappointment, am without a job, living with the ex, my life has been turned upside down, torn apart and dismantled.
My brother on the other hand, has just retired from the military and is celebrating life. He wants me to come and be a part of this celebration. He has also invited Aunt Hallene. He, nor his wife has ever nor probably will ever go through anything even close to what I have gone through and they are too selfish to ever give up their lives for someone else. They don’t understand why I don’t want to come down and are angry at me. “Put family issues aside” and “this is about your brother, about being there for him for his day” I am told. But what about me? How can I celebrate his day when my life is in such turmoil? It seems rather harsh and cruel to throw his success and happiness in my face, especially since my brother has rarely ever been there for me throughout my entire life. He hates that I am gay, hasn’t worked through that issue, and even though I am his brother, he would rather not have me part of his life. Even his two kids didn’t invite me to their weddings. What does that say?
So, I woke up today, screaming and yelling at my dead grandmother. I think it was really a visitation from her. It was wonderful at first but then she turned rather mean and cruel, kind of like how I feel I am being treated by my family. I awoke with my heart beating so fast I thought I would have a heart attack. Then I started to cry. I can’t stop crying. I hate crying. I have no problem with the concept of crying and getting the frustrations and pain out but it is just gut wrenching when I cry. The following day is usually somber and me feeling dead-like inside but I get over it. I hate crying but I know I need to do it. I probably accomplish a lot by crying, working through issues and stuff, just don’t want to.
My dad and step mom have called me several times today to try and convince me one last time to go to go see my brother. He knows I am upset, sad and is worried I’ll try and commit suicide. I feel dead inside, don’t want to live, feel like I have no reason to live, feel worthless and I don’t love myself but I don’t and never have had the guts to kill myself. I’d just rather suffer. I can do that. I’ve done it before, I can do it again. I’m crying again, damn it. I’m going to go call my friend who I helped from committing suicide – maybe he can help like I helped him.
Don’t worry, I’m not going to commit suicide. And I’m sorry this is so morose and morbid. I just need to put this “down on paper”, as it were. It helps me to write to get things off my chest.
