My time

I was asked today about my son, “how old is he, does he live with you?”. Brutally honest and direct, “he’ll be 19 in July, he lives in Illinois with my enabling mother because he walked out of my house saying “fuck you, I don’t need you”. The same response I always get “oh, I’m sorry, is he better now?” My honest answer was “I don’t know, but I doubt it” because I haven’t spoken to him in over a month and have no idea if my mom really did kick him out. 

Even after my text conversation with Tyler, I‘m not convinced he’s actually spoken to Trey recently. He did avoid my questions “does he have a phone? Do you have his new number?” If he has recently spoken to him, he’s probably doing as Trey demanded that I don’t get his number. If he hasn’t, well, he did a damn good job of presenting it to seem that way. 

Why am I even talking to the man that didn’t help me raise our son? Well, I’m still hoping he will do something, anything that a father should do for his 19 year old son that is selfish, lazy, and disrespectful. How the fuck should I know what that is?? I’M HIS MOTHER, I was never capable of raising a boy into a man all on my own.  

Thinking about Trey, talking to Tyler, being asked about my son today…all seems too familiar. I started feeling very anxious, my heart started beating faster and harder…then the movie theater memories washed over me and all the trauma details of it. 

Was I thinking about Trey right before? Was it because I was there with Matt? Was I thinking about the past again? Was that actually some kind of anxiety/panic attack? 

Was my body just shutting down, no longer capable of handling the stress I put myself through? What about all the abnormalities of my labs and tests? Why did nothing add up and what the fuck is happening to my body??

Then its that fucking haunting “WHY” runs over and over, every “why” I can think of. 

I decided to give my reason for why this “unconscience episode” occurred…to push me, help me realize maybe I don’t belong in Texas 

Every day I think about my “episode” at the movie theater, to every little detail. Why did I black out? Why was I in/out of consciousness but paralyzed or unresponsive? Why did I not feel myself drenched in sweat until it was mentioned? Why could I hear people, feel people, even see people when my eye lids were opened for me but couldn’t respond or move?

Why the fuck do I always have to know the why??

Professionally, I ask why to understand the process or reason behind it. To completely understand something you need all the details and the “why’s” I think are the most important ones to ask. I have gotten many “because that’s how we do it” responses and I can’t wrap my mind around it. There has to be a why, why did we start this (process/procedure) in the first place? What happened to create this process? 

Have you ever felt like you were completely different than anyone else on this planet? I do, all the time with almost everything I say or do. 

Today at work, temp job, I was asked “why do you do it that way?”, sparked something inside me and I was excited to explain my logic behind it. It was nice to have someone acknowledge “my way” as opposed to the other 20 or so people doing the same job, but with a different process than me. It was the look during and after my explanation that got me realizing, no one understands me even when I explain it. 

Some may actually ask the “why” again, most don’t like today, and still not understand. The difference with me, I am the one to keep asking why if I don’t understand. Of course, typing that out made me think “that could be annoying”. What’s wrong with honestly trying to understand? If you truly care about knowing why, I mean you asked, then care enough to keep asking until you understand. 

There are many different ways to explain the “why” and sometimes it takes a different approach. I tend to be more direct with my approach, sometimes even honest (wink). What’s funny, to me, is that I haven’t changed even losing people in my life for being brutally honest and direct. I don’t see me changing that either.

My checking account is dwindling, my patience is even worse. I am miserable physically, mentally, emotionally with no real relief in the near future. I sit at home, either sleeping, okay mostly sleeping. I don’t feel good, haven’t since I went to the hospital, nothing I do make it better. No sleep makes me feel rested, I’m drowning in what my life was to what is not now. 

I cry cause they say to let out your feelings, to overcome what’s been bothering me. Just one question, when the fuck does it end? When does life start again without the lonely misery of what my life was and now is just at a stand still? When do I truly move the fuck on for myself without all this emotional drainage? 

Most days I wish I had died that day in the movie theater, it’s not like I’m living. My body wants to shut down and I don’t blame it. I’m so broken hearted with family, my only son, bonus kids and friends that have moved on. While I sit in misery, constantly feeling nauseous, constant headaches that only get worse, the constant sweats while freezing. Something is wrong with me and I have nowhere to turn for medical help, with no insurance and no money.

No life shouldn’t be this fucking painful, emotionally miserable, and mentally daunting. 

The saying is “Life is what you make it”, meaning having personal happiness by your own actions and/or choices. 

What about what’s not in your control? Health is not in your control and getting myself medical help is impossible. So, I ignore my health, I mean I eat as well as I can afford but other than that, it is what it is. 

Mental health is not cheap, my therapist working with me financially helps. I need more, I need motivation, positivity when I’m nothing but negative.

My weekends are spent doing nothing, watching the days go by, waiting for the day I could drop dead.  All while watching my money get less and less as it gets closer. 

I need a fucking break, I need something to give, I need something to just go right for once. What does “go right” mean? The fuck if I know, but it has to be better than what I’m currently going through. 

Oh and Happy Easter…

Today I was discharged out of the hospital with only my pants, underwear, and socks that I went in with, my shirt and bra were cut off of me. 

Friday was a day I took off work, at the temp job, to get my temperature housing unit replaced in my car. Only a $1200 fix I’ve been avoiding for months, not wanting to spend the money. I finally did it and while that was getting fixed I had a “Syncope episode” that can’t be explained. 

I was fine all day until I got anxious when another hot flash was coming on, except this was no ordinary hot flash. One minute I’m fine and the next minute I can’t speak, can’t move, can’t stay conscious, while chest pressure is making it harder to breathe. 

I can feel people around me talking, worried, repeating my name over and over. I can feel myself lying flat now, easier to breathe but still unable to move, not even able to open my eyes. I try to speak, I try to move, but all I can really do is breath and at times that’s hard to do. 

I feel my body being moved back and forth, lifted, in what seems like a body bag, and carried in a hurry. I have more trouble breathing, in and out of consciousness. The times I am conscious but no one knows, no one can tell. They rub their knuckles on my chest, I can feel it but only slightly. I feel other pressures on my fingernails, toenails, and the bottom of my feet. 

I heard people around me talking about me, “she definitely is not faking it, what do you think she took, this is not nothing”. Then I saw a man after he lifted my eyelid and flashed his light, still nothing. I can’t move, I can’t speak, I want to scream to them to give me oxygen but nothing. Still having a hard time breathing and thinking this is the end of my story, my life. 

I’m back to “my consciousness” with nurses pressing on my collar bone, bending my fingers back, rubbing more knuckles on my sternum with no reaction. I can hear them talking about me, I can feel everything they are doing to me, now with more pain, but I still cannot move, talk, or open my eyes. I can feel them cutting my shirts and bra off me, hooking me up to machines, yelling my name to wake up. 

Finally, another sternum rub and I can open my eyes, say a few words, but still not all there. I feel a wave of nausea while my body is still not in motion, not moving like I want and need it to. All I can say is “down, lay down” and I hear a woman respond “sorry, it can’t go any further”. I know its a lie and I need to lay down, I need to puke but the way they have me I can’t. 

Finally a voice I recognize, Matt is there, he listens to my need to lay down and finally I‘m able to roll over a bit and puke, all over the side of my face, hair, arm, and cot I was laying on. More and more I come to and am able to form more words, and words into sentences. 

I spent three nights in the hospital with a variety of issues, potassium is 2.7, blood pressure is 80s/40s, every other test has an abnormality, and yet nothing is making sense. Head and chest CT, Ultrasound of my heart and neck, MRI of neck and brain, EEG, EKG, blood work three times a day. 

Each day my lab work gets better, but still no reason for what happened. I was unconscious for a few hours and no one can truly explain why it happened the way it did. 

One thing overall said indirectly “could be stress” and instead of taking that seriously, I laughed with a response of “just a bit”.

If I really do think about it, it makes me more irritated.  The amount of money and time spent, resources invested in correcting basketball cards instead of our education system is fucking stupid. People that play a sport get paid more than our teachers and thats why our education system fucking sucks. 

These days they push kids to the next grades because holding them back would “jeopardize the child’s social environment”. Which means they are worried how OTHER KIDS WILL MAKE FUN OF THEM! Who gives a fuck, kids will be kids, social media will always be an issue of bullies. We are focused on the wrong shit. This world is back-ass-wards if you ask me. 

An education shouldn’t be about social norms or bad ratings on the school, it should be about the child’s education level and grades. When I held my son back, I had to fight his current school and the new school he was transferring to. They saw his grades filled with zeros and the lack of trying, yet they were willing to push him through to the next grade due to the negative social impact. 

If you wondered why I have felt completely alone most of my life, it’s because over and over I have to argue, fight, explain, justify, etc my decisions, that I based on my sons choices, not ratings and social bullshit. I guess I’m still angry. 

Makes sense since I officially turned my son’s phone off for the last time. I tried to have a conversation with him about his choices and being kicked out of my mothers house. He did what he does best these days, calling me names like “dumb bitch, retarded cunt, selfish bitch”, etc. 

Even after HE walked out on me and said “fuck you, I don’t need you” in October of 2023, I’ve been paying for his phone. I’ve been hearing his crap ever since and been paying for it, not just literally but mentally and emotionally ever since. Why?? Well, now it stops completely!

Paying his phone and phone bill every month wasn’t ever enough for him. He’s mad I won’t take him back, as I told him before he left, returning was no longer an option. How can I let him back? He hasn’t changed, he’s still being enabled by many family members, he still not in school, no GED, no job, nothing but the same drama we had before. 

He’s an adult now, four months away from being 19 years old. He knows how to get a hold of me, when he wants something. I need to move on, let him figure it out and remove myself from his blame game. I see through his bullshit, I know how this turns out, and now I have to accept what does happen is out of my control. 

You know the saying “what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”? Well, apparently stress can actually kill you

First week in the temp job and its nothing I expected, not bad just boring. There was supposed to be a group of 15 of us starting and only 12 showed. First thing I noticed were the times different ages showed up. I was first, like always, the next two gentlemen were next and in my age range, like 40s-50s.

The older I get, the older the crowd I would rather be in.  The younger crowd seem to not care about timely manners, dress appropriate attire, or respect for themselves at all. It shows the times they came in all week as well, some have stopped coming all together, some show up whenever its convenient for them. 

First two days was a struggle not to hear the bullshit three girls discuss that sit in front of me. I chose the next on the outside, so no one sits behind me, trust issues probably. It also happened to be next to the grouchiest older man in our group. He complains about everything while the girls are discussing nothing and everything not related to our jobs. 

The whole point of this is to approve claims and get the correct merchandise back out to the customers. I got into my rhythm within minutes of starting. As the week went on I got better and faster, doing over 300 claims a day. I know damage control and how to organize it in a way to be accurate and quick. 

I can’t see myself working here though, as its all about sports and I’m not a sports fan. This project is to correct a mistake that was made on basketball cards, you know the collections cards. I personally don’t get it, see it as a waste of money and time, but it’s just not my thing.

If you have depression, you know the struggles. I openly admit my suicidal thoughts. I even put an unloaded gun to my head just to see how it felt. Some say thats crazy, I say being quiet about it makes it more crazy. I unloaded the gun myself, yes I’ve done it before. I didn’t pull the trigger, I simply put it up my head and closed my eyes. 

I was shaking, scared and not at all at ease as I thought I would have. I get why some pull the trigger and I get why some don’t. I can tell you all the deepest darkest shit that goes through my head, but no one will truly understand, words can’t describe it. At that time, a few years ago, I didn’t want the dark to overcome me. I wanted to face it head on and say “FUCK OFF” so I could live my life. 

I accomplished it then, but this time is different. As much as my financial anxiety has me on edge every second of every day, I also see a calming end…dark and calming end. I don’t know what that means, nor can I explain it any better. Dark and calm seem dangerous and the overthinker that I am came up with a lot of “what ifs”. None seem appealing since in all hypothetical scenarios of me being just fucking hateful. I don’t mean “at times” I’m just bitchy, I am all the time to anyone.  

But every time I describe myself its helpful, caring, and opens my house to people that need it…quickly turns to hateful “where has that gotten you?” Every day is a struggle, every day is a constant push to keep pushing. Every day I get tired, I don’t want to fight anymore, I don’t want to even try anymore. 

Then at some point after some much needed “PPP” (puff, puff, pass) I think about my purpose, the waiting game, the patient fucking game we call life. 10k will get me by for a few months. I start this 3-month contract in a few days, that might bring something better, right? 

Well, there you have it, I still have hope.

I get more and more angry every day, feel like I’m going to burst into a rage that could explode at any minute. Which drove me to reach out to Chris, my therapist the last five years. I haven’t seen him since before Matt and the kids left, Sept of 2025. All I can think about is how much I have to tell him and to get through it all. Why I‘ve waited this long, to my breaking point, is about money, but this time its about the help I need. 

Today I hired my bankruptcy lawyer and just discussing my current finances had me in tears, I could barely hold back. She knew and tried to make light conversation. I appreciated it and now even more taking me on to represent me. 

She told me I’m not the only one, there are many in worse situations than me. As much as she tried to encourage me, all I could think about was “my life line”. Filed bankruptcy, and hope they allow me to live off the 10k I have in savings. Once I completely run out of money, my plan gets pretty fucking dark.

If you haven’t seen the Famous Last Words: Eric Dane on Netflix, I highly recommend it. Some of the last words he spoke were the following that resonated with me:

“Live now, in the present”

“wander off mentally, lost in my head”

“wallowing in worry and self-pity, shame, and doubt”

”The past contains regrets, the future remains unknown”

”The present is all you have”

“Fall in love”

”find your passion, your joy”

”my work doesn’t define me, but it excites me”

”Find something that excites you”

”Find you purpose, your dream, then go for it”

”Choose your friends wisely”

”Find your people”

”Then give yourself to them”

”They just show up”

”they will help you, support you, and some will save you”

”Fight”

”faced with challenges, fight, never give up, fight until your last breath”

“resiliency, you knock me down, I keep coming back, again and again”

“fight with honesty, integrity, and grace”

“You can face hell with dignity”

Living now, in the present is not easy when the near future is so close…looking at my finances. In a way I’m looking at it as a fucking life line. Like, as soon as the money is gone…what???? What am I going to do? 

Something has to give, preferably before that happens. This waiting game is like losing myself. The person I’ve been my entire life, now becoming angrier, nonchalant attitude, and that scares me. I consider myself a decent person, flaws just like anyone. If the anger takes over, I’ll become hateful. 

Falling in love is the one I really got stuck on since he wasn’t referring to loving someone. What is my passion, my purpose, my joy? What excites me? 

Why is it so hard to find my purpose? The only reason I see is being naked, having men pay to see me naked. Even that won’t secure me financially, the way it’s going. 

I got banned from Snapchat, locked out of my TikTok and had to start all over. 

I am the worst sales person for myself. How can I promote my nakedness when I get in trouble constantly? How can I take pride in it when so many say its wrong? What else do I have to offer? Nothing, apparently. 

Choosing friends wisely sounds like a smart idea. If those friends still want to get their dick wet from me, are they still my friend? Yeah, probably not. Well, who needs friends anyways, they lie, act fake, get what they want from me and move one. 

Fighting is something I’m all too familiar with already and to be honest…I’m so tired of fighting. I’ve been fighting my whole life while I watch others around me get what they want without any fight at all.  

Well, I broke my own promise to myself, I contacted Matt. Don’t worry, he finally told me I wasn’t enough, or too much, either way he doesn’t accept me. I guess he doesn’t accept me for who I’ve become, I guess thats on me. It wasn’t something I wanted to hear, nor acknowledge it. There it is, the closure I needed to move on…..??

I no longer have “my person”, fuck, a person at all. No one that will understand, care, or just be here when I need to cry on a shoulder. I’ve been crying for days, even gave myself a migraine from crying too much. Everything is so fucked up in my life, I have literally no where to turn, there is no escape. 

I’ve finally  hit “my rock bottom” and accepted a three month contract job with a print shop. I started at a print shop in high school and became a printer myself. This makes me drown in depression even more. To think I am now completely starting over, going from $35 an hour to now $18 an hour. If that’s not the lowest of lows of my career, I don’t want to know the lowest.