Iris #1

Would you bleed with me, my Selene?

Reflections
Iris #1
selliebean
You know, it scares me sometimes to go back and read old journal entries. It scares me that so much has stayed the same. So many of the same feelings crowd my mind on a daily basis. I guess you could say that I'm better at hiding it now, but they're still there. That darkness still shrouds almost every thought, every feeling. The wounds still fester and bleed, just a little bit further beneath the surface than they used to. I still have my moments where I let the mask slip and let people see in, see the truth, but I'm far more protective of that dark side than I ever used to be. I don't want people judging it, trying to exorcise it from my soul. As I have said before, it is who I am. My strength. My shield. The truest, most loyal friend I have. Darkness. Pain. Sorrow. Fear. As I've said before, I have no fear of Death. I am not as anxious for him to come and claim me as I once was, but I do not fear him. There are still moments...seconds, minutes, hours, sometimes even days...where I would welcome him, even beg him to come and embrace me. But I have learned to accept that I still have a life here, and that I have to live it before I can finally be free.

I'm tired of defending my emotions to people who can never understand what I'm feeling. I'm tired of being told to "get over it" by people who have only the slightest clue the pain that I've experienced. None of what I went through is something that you just "get over" and I'm sorry if my pain is an inconvenience to you. I do my best to put it aside 90% of the time and those times that it does hit me like a ton of bricks well... I can't help it that I still cry for her, for myself, for everything that was lost and stolen and will never be. I can't help it that I get angry, that I scream and lash out at demons you can't see. I can't help it that you can't understand, that you can't begin to know what I'm thinking and feeling. And no, there is nothing you can do to make it better. There is nothing anyone can do to make it better, at all. Nothing can bring her back, nothing can take away what they did to me, nothing can dull the pain that was inflicted upon me...nothing. Most of you don't even know the half of it, and what you do know, you refuse to believe, and calling me a liar does less than nothing to ease the torment. So I lie and say that I'm fine, with a smile on my face, and I let you think I've lost my mind completely when the facade cracks ever so slightly and I have a bad day/week/month and lash out for what is, to you, no logical or even illogical reason.

As an afterthought, unloading your best kept secrets to random people in your life is incredibly stressful and stress relieving at the same time.

More to come. This has already gone very far off the originally intended course

(no subject)
Iris #1
selliebean
Hahahaha....

I know you think you were snarking at me, but you really did just prove my point.

Thanks for that. Sometimes you make it just too easy.

Blah. 
   

(no subject)
Iris #1
selliebean
I want to go home. And I don't just mean home from work. I mean...I want to go home. Somewhere I feel safe, loved...somewhere that I don't feel like the enemy all the time, like every word that comes out of my mouth sets off a ticking time bomb. I'm so ready to give up on everything. On her, on life...on myself. Nothing I do is right, so why bother trying? She's allowed to have an entire spectrum of feelings and that's ok but fucking forbid I ever show an ounce of emotion that's not happy bubbly smiley fakeass bullshit and the world comes to an end! I wish I was with my daughter right now, somewhere far away form here...somewhere calm and peaceful...but I will never be with her because I have a suite reserved in Hell for me when I finally leave this fucking waste of a life behind...

(no subject)
Iris #1
selliebean
Today when we visited my grandmother in the nursing home, we were basically told that all anyone is doing at this point is waiting for her to die. She's down to 80 pounds (as of mid January, they haven't weighed her this month yet) and isn't eating. Not even ice cream, which she used to love. She thinks everyone is out to get her, talks to herself or the voices in her head constantly, gets very very angry with everyone but my mother...the doctor (who was a total bitch) advises against giving her a feeding tube or hospitalizing her because her mental state can't handle hospitalization.  So now we have to have a family meeting with me, my mom, my aunt and my cousins to decide which course of action we want to take. Mom, naturally, wants the feeding tube and to send her to hospital if she becomes ill, my aunt won't want any of it, she'll just want to let her wither away, and me...I don't know. I don't want any part of this. At all. I just want to close my eyes, enjoy her (as much as possible anymore) while she's still alive, and remember her fondly when she is gone. Why is that too much to ask?

(no subject)
Iris #1
selliebean
The mask begins to crack
Falling away piece by broken piece
Shattering to the floor
Every defense breached
Leaving behind a weary, beaten soul
Hiding in the shadows of a
Hollow heart...
Longing for the freedom of
Silence
Darkness
Cold and deep
A relief from the pain that
No one sees
No one knows
These dirty little secrets
Locked away in this rusted
Gilded cage
Of shame and guilt
Wretched weakling, thrown away
Defenseless and alone
Can't hide your pain
Can't hide the shame
Can't hide behind a smile
It's all been taken away
Self inflicted wounds bleed dry
Leaving nothing but a shell
A hollow husk of tears and lies
Nothing left to shield from the wicked ramblings
Of a broken, restless, wretched mind

(no subject)
Iris #1
selliebean
I have reached the point in my week where I want to simply take people and slap them all across the face with a giant smelly tuna because their attitudes have pushed me to the breaking point.

(no subject)
Iris #1
selliebean
Just booked 5 days off work in March to go to NYC and see Children of Bodom on the 28th and 29th. Back to back shows. Booking a hotel room ASAP so we can just stay near the venue after the first show, then head back to Poughkeepsie on the train after the second. SO FUCKING EXCITED.

(no subject)
Iris #1
selliebean
I feel as if this is going to be a very interesting weekend.

I'm sitting here at my desk at work right now and all I want to do is cry. I can feel myself starting to lose it...of course, I'm very much overdue for some kind of mental meltdown/breakdown, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.

I think tonight it will be time for a much needed whiskey coma. Drink. Puke. Repeat. Hopefully, eventually pass out. At least that's the plan. I need to go on a good bender and just give my mind a chance to rest. Of course, this particular course of action requires that I can find my JD in one of the many boxes that are still packed up in our living room/dining room after the move.

Secondary plan for the evening would normally be sex until we're both ready to pass out, but of course, we're BOTH on our periods right now, so that ain't gonna happen, either.

Third plan, and possibly my favorite (yes, even over drinking myself into a stupor) is laying on the couch, arms wrapped around puppy, soaking up all the unconditional love she has to offer. Love my babygirl.

All of this, I'm afraid, requires me to get through the rest of my shift at work without breaking down in tears, putting my fist/a stapler/a chair through a wall, punching someone out or screaming at someone at the top of my lungs, all of which may or may not result in a rather uncomfortable trip to G1! (The local psych floor in our hospital)

...this is what happens when I go an entire week on no more than 2-3 hours of sleep a night...

(no subject)
Iris #1
selliebean
I'm so over this day. I just want to go home and hug my puppy and "sip" some whiskey...

(no subject)
Iris #1
selliebean
The move went surprisingly well. We've been in the new place for a week today, and so far, things have been great. For the most part, anyway. My girlfriend got really pissed at my dog when she had an accident in the house, but didn't really bat an eyelash when her cat clawed the shit out of the couch. She hasn't done any housework at all, really. I've taken out the trash and run the dishwasher every day. But...we're not fighting like we used to at my parents' house, so I'll take what I can get and work on the rest as we go along here.

I don't know if I'm having trouble adjusting to the new place or what, but I haven't slept past 9:30 since we moved in, until today, and that was only because I woke up with my period. I was having a horrible nightmare about the night I lost my daughter 13 years ago, and I woke up in agony and covered in blood between my legs, just like that night, which really freaked me out badly. Shockingly, this was at 10am, so waking up totally shaken and freaked out STILL got me more sleep than I've been getting since we moved. I don't mind getting less sleep, really. It's been nice to catch up on my television shows on Hulu and spend a lot of quality cuddle time with my puppy and get some putzing around done around the apartment, but I've been so, so tired at work that I end up drinking coffee at 9pm and then I know I'll be awake until at least 3am!

I'm trying very hard to come to terms with the fact that I will most likely never be a mother, at least not to a human child. My dog is like my child, so I can't entirely say that I'm not a mom. But having my own baby is something that I've dreamt of since I was a little girl, and I'm afraid that it will never be a dream that can come true for me. My girlfriend doesn't want kids, I'm getting older, we're lesbians so there's no real "easy" way to "accidentally" become pregnant, and she doesn't think we'll ever be able to afford it, anyway. I lost my chance 13 years ago when that bastard killed my little girl, and I'll never have the opportunity to make it right. I held a child, my child, in my arms for one brief, endless moment, a cold lifeless child whom I pray each and every day knows how much I loved her and still love her to this day and would give anything I have to bring her back and change what happened that night...I'll never get a second chance to do things right, but maybe in a sense it's better that way. I failed her so epicly that there's no reason fro me to have a second chance...if it weren't for my stupidity, she'd be alive today, almost 13 years old...

Maybe if I just try to get more sleep this won't all seem so bad. Maybe. I should be almost giddily happy right now, and instead, all I want to do is sit and cry.

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