Thursday, December 24, 2009

Licking My Wounds, Alone

So impressed with all you do
Tried so hard to be like you
Flew too high and burnt the wing
Lost my faith in everything

Lick around divine debris
Taste a wealth of hate in me
Shedding skin succumb defeat
This machine is obsolete

Made the choice to go away
Drained a fountain of decay
Tear a hole, exquisite red
Fuck the rest and stab it dead

Broken, bruised, forgotten, sore
Too fucked up to care anymore
Poisoned to my rotten core
Too fucked up to care anymore

In the back, off the side
and far away, is the place
where I hide
where I stay
Tried to say
Tried to ask
I needed to unload
By myself
Where were you?

How could I ever think
Funny how everything you swore it
wouldn't change is different now
Just like you would always say
"We'll make it through"

Then my head fell apart
and where were you?

How could I ever think
it's funny how everything you swore it'd
never change is different now

Like you said, "You and me
make it through"
Didn't quite fall apart


So, I'm pissed.

Actually, I guess it would help if I went back a few days. Bf sent a text on Sunday afternoon:

"Bf: So do you think maybe you're the one who should be calling me instead of your mum?"

Hmmm. Touche. But in my defense, I was lying prone on the floor, unable to move and praying for death. But whatever, he had a good point.

And so the evening rolled around, and Bf got off work. It was time to call him, time to explain what had happened the night before, and why my mum called instead of me. I'm not ready yet, I kept thinking, I'll call him in a bit.

But a bit never came, and I stayed awake the rest of the night, wondering why I couldn't call the man I love. The only I answer is that I am a tremendous emotional coward. I screwed up big time and I hurt the one I love the most and now I have to face him and tell him why I did it and if I love him and Baby so much, why won't I stop doing this? The problem was, I didn't have an answer for him. I didn't know why it kept happening, so what the fuck was I gonna say? And even I was sick of hearing my apologies and promises to stop.

And so, I didn't call Bf the night before I went into detox, for my one night of drinking. I ran off to hide and lick my wounds and hurt like the stupid little shit that I am.

So now Bf has run off to hide and lick HIS wounds, but I am in my goddamn hour of need. So do I have any right to be mad at him? I just dunno.

My brother says "Yes!"

Now, before you say "Oh, he's biased!", my brother can't really stand the sight of me, nor I him. Oh, we tolerate each other during the holidays for Mum's sake, but neither of us really gives a shit about how the other is doing. We just grew up close like that, I guess. I didn't even know he and his girlfriend were preggers the last time I saw them.

Anyway, I'm getting off course. My brother is indignant on my behalf (where is this COMING from?), demanding where Bf is when I am down and out, after all the effort I have made to be a good stepmom and all the tormenting bullshit I put up with on a daily basis from his psycho Baby Momma. Hmmm. Score one to Big Brother, even though I think that maybe he is just regurgitating something that he heard someone else say. Whatever, A for effort!

As for Dad, well, he can't actually look me in the eye right now. I think I hurt both my parents' feelings, that when they came in the middle of the night to save me from myself and took me to the doctor and then to detox and researched eating disorder clinics and talked to my friends and counselors and then came today to take me from detox to the hospital (we'll get to that in a minute), that after all that, the only the thing I have said to them is, "Did Bf call?"

He hasn't, of course, which brings us to our current dilemma. I know I am getting off course here and there, but fuck off, it's my blog and I just got out of the fucking hospital where I found out the 15 lbs I have put on is still not good enough, so I'll write this however I fucking want. Well, in truth I am just going to sit here and let my brain vomit whatever it will onto the keyboard, and then just let you fucking deal with it. Whoever you are. (I love you Ugu!)

Anyhoo, where was I? Ah, yes, do I or do I not want to castrate Boyfriend with a meat cleaver for abandoning me when I needed him most? I can see his point, certainly. Baby turned two today (strangely, I was NOT invited, my invite must have gotten lost in the mail) and he wants a good role model for her, and someone to have more kids with. These things I understand, and am actually quite able to supply to my little lovebug. Where we have a but, and it's a BIG BUT(T), is with his fucking psycho ex girlfriend tormenting me on a daily basis and his complete inability to stand up to her. I understand that he doesn't want to lose his daughter - I don't either! There are some weeks where I have actually spent more time with Baby than either of them, and I love her to death. I would do anything for her. But unfortunately, her mum just takes so much fucking pleasure in corrupting anything around her that has a chance to flourish and grow into something joyful that I wonder if I should just take it as experience and run like hell. The woman is fucking INSANE - and YES, I see the fucking irony in that statement, seeing as I have just come out of the hospital for my smegging eating disorder. But whatever my faults, and I admit there is a PLETHORA of them, I know that I am still a good person with a kind heart who enjoys making other people laugh and smile, not cry and hurt. (I save that just for me). That is where Baby Momma and I fucking differ, and I can't help but wonder if I've had a lucky escape.

But what about Bf and Baby? What about the year and a half we have been together? What will happen when Baby starts to cry because she can't find "My Kg"? And what about Bf's and my plan to get married? What about M being THE LOVE OF MY LIFE? Yes, our relationship has always hindered on my my impending sobriety, but I'm going after that full force now - detox, hospital, I start an alcie program on Tuesday to keep me busy until I get into my Eating Disorders Program, and I am going to quit dancing so that I can pursue all the help I need to get healthy again.

The only problem is, I'm going after it alone. I don't know where Bf is. Prolly with Baby Momma, jumping to do her every biding.

And if that sounds bitter to you, that's because IT FUCKING IS.

Merry Fucking Christmas, everyone.

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