Sometimes it all falls apart...

I really and truly an going to try to start doing this regularly. Life, as usual, has been throwing curveballs over the last few months, and aparently, I'm no catcher.

Where to begin? Well, for starters, and something that sucks but is no where near a blip on my radar, I killed my computer. Knock it off the couch, and evidentially elliptical machines and MacBooks don't occupy space together well. So, I will be doing my blogging from my phone. This being said, tryin to figure out where I last left off on my saga was just too tedious a task for me to take on at the moment. My head is swimming with words that beg to be purged.

So. *deep breath*

Bob and I are no longer together. That fact, I am okay with. To be honest I think I was more attached to the symbolism it represented; the growth and change it represented. Bob tested my values. Marriage, for example. Before meeting him, I was content to go at life a loner and make the best of it or die (likely by my own hand) trying. I had long since lost hope of meeting someone who saw value (in me) where I saw none. Bob changed and challenged my thoughts on marriage. He opened my heart to possibility; to hope. He ended up crushing that hope in the end, but I'll get to that in a bit.

Bob also showed me I have far more patience than I could have ever imagined. He tested the limits of my ability to be compassionate and selfless. He also brought about an understanding that I cannot love someone enough to make up for the love they lack for them self. In this, I feel growth: naive beliefs about love's power ahead away, but not abandoned.

So there's that.

Now the not so heartwarming chapters. We had a miscarriage in late January. I was between 9-12 weeks. Had just started those unexpected porcelain throne sessions, and was beginning to gain those lovely mommy super powers of being able to tell someone in detail what they had eaten hours before.  I had just enough time being pregnant to incision little hats, pacifiers, baby blankets, etc. Bob...well...he was terrified. It was at this point that he finally came out and shared he did not want more children, and news of our pregnancy sent him into a downward spiral of selfishness that he never did recover from. I was heartbroken. The pain during the miscarriage was nothing compared to the grief I am still dealing with. And Bob, he was there for part of day one, and then disappeared until a hormonal me called and chewed his ass out for making me endure the whole process alone.

That was the beginning of the end. Fights escalated, threats were thrown, we were on the precipice of the end, then...promises were made and things would be okay for a while.....until those promises never came to fruition...and the cycle would repeat. It was during a quite peaceful lull in our relationship that our relationship was ended. The real kick in the vag, was that he initiated this via email....you know, because we are 12, and 9 months and a miscarriage together warrants that sort of cowardice. Fun side note, I found out, and I shit you not: a day before, that I was preggers....again.

And my heart broke all over again....and will for sometime, because ultimately, given my bodies propensity to reject pregnancies, and the fact that my body wasn't recovered, and the fact that the father is a selfish dick that I want nothing more to do with...I chose to terminate. I know, judge me. I am. My heart breaks daily....my faith is shaken. Faith not only in God....but also in my own judgement.

So. Life is a bit bleak. I, ran straight into my ex's arms for meaningless sex. And have fallen back on old coping methods to get through the day. I'm so wrecked with shame and self-hatred....it's all I can do not to foolishly act on impulse....at least the life ending ones.

I'm still in therapy. I am scheduled for a psych consult next week.  I am passively suicidal and caught in a self-loathing tailspin.

On a happier note, other than sleeping with the ex (my child's father) the once, I have managed to keep at least that small bit of grace. I have gone out on a couple of coffee dates. A couple were terrible, but there has been one that kinda suprised me. In a good way. But he has a lot of patience ahead of him if he wants to pursue me. I will not get back into the pattern of being the pursuer for some time.  That was just too much. And my heart is still grieving the loss of my children.

Never ending

So I had to take a break from the blog-o-sphere...so much going on. New job, graduation, relationship....and the tilt-o-whirl that are my emotions...it was just too much to focus on.

I'm still working. I really, really love my job. I'm officially, official now....no probation, although, considering I live in an "at will employer" state, probationary periods are a bit redundant. I have benefits now: health, Rx, vision, dental...yippee.  With my hefty student loan debt, I can't afford to use them. Anyhow. My job keeps me busy. I still struggle with feeling like a hypocrite. I go into work everyday, to help people work towards mental wellness...and I am barely able to look myself in the mirror....I struggle each day just to get through the day without acting on my urges to self-destruct. For a minute, I thought I was doing better, but that was too much to hope for, and my urges to cut and impulses to do things...things that the rational part of me knows are just stupid...hit me daily like waves at high tide.

There is this new parking garage downtown. Some guys at work were talking about how people keep jumping off of it, killing themselves. It's about nine stories high. Yep, that will do it. Ever since I heard about this place, I have this deep seeded desire to drive to the top. Just to look. Just to see. Maybe hoping to scare myself...hoping that I am still scared to die...but knowing that if I ever allowed myself to let it go that far...I wouldn't be.

My boss has nicknamed my "Murphy" because "if it can go wrong, it will." So far, I've had a psychotic client burn her house down, locked myself out of my car twice (only once with a client), had my door freeze open, had my car act possessed in the presence of an agoraphobe, had one client disappear, one go to prison, and two end up in substance abuse facilities....She doesn't believe me that this is my life...that's the way my life has always been...that I just have bad luck. I feel like a toxic plague. My darkness spreading, tendril reaching out into the lives around me, turning everything they touch.

Still dating Bob. We have had our ups and downs. I found out mid-January that I was pregnant. I was super excited for the whole 2 weeks it took my body to reject the pregnancy. For those of you playing the home game, that's 2/2 in a little over two years. I'm still struggling with the lose. I may never have another child...especially if I stay with Bob, who after this whole experience has changed his "I might like to have another kid someday" to "I really don't want anymore." Needless to say I'm devastated. To stay with him means I have to give up the one thing in my life that I want: another child; a sibling for my daughter. I will never feel a life growing inside me. Never experience the pain of child birth and have it all be worth it to hold that precious bundle for the first time. Never have the joy of watching first's again. Never again. Not sure if I can have another child...but if I stay with him...it is certain.

I've been having weird dreams again. In all of them I lose my daughter...fail to keep her safe...I wake up sobbing and shaking. I feel like such a failure; a phony. My body betrays me, taking away my womanhood, my sleep, my ability to be a mother, and my sanity.

My father bought my daughter and I plane tickets to go on vacation with him and the steps this summer. Was looking forward to it, before the miscarriage...at least then I'd have an excuse to be a beached whale. No so much anymore. Thinking about it makes me nauseous. Not to mention that both of my step-sister's boyfriends got invited...so I will be stuck, watching the kids while they go out and enjoy adult time. Maybe I'll drown.