2 June 2020: For Better or for Worse

11:01 PM

Well, hells bells…it’s been a hot minute since I’ve done any writing.  In all honesty, it’s been a crazy challenging week for me.  I’ve experienced some of the deepest sorrow and despair that I’ve felt in a very long time.  The last time I sat down to pound out some thoughts, I was pretty suicidal.  I wasn’t sure there was any coming back from that.  It was almost a week ago.  I’m not exactly sure when things shifted a little bit, but I’m sure glad that it feels like I’m starting to come out the other side of things.  

Let’s see…cliffs notes…Thursday, was kinda a shit show.  Spoke with J on the phone and was at the very very end of my rope.  My tank was EMPTY and I had nothing left to give.  I had no fight left in me and I was relatively positive that was the end.  That was rock bottom for me emotionally.  I used the very last ounce of energy and give-a-damn I had to stop by Smith’s and pick up some Zzzquil.  Ended up sleeping for about 5 hours or so, which was much more than I’d been getting, and when I woke up on Friday, for the first time I didn’t feel the empty hopelessness I’d woken up to every morning for the past several weeks.  The first thing that went through my mind wasn’t, “well fuck…I’m still alive”.  And that was enough.  That was enough to give me just a little sliver of hope that I might just be able to pull my shit together.  

Friday night got about 7 hours of sleep, had enough energy and motivation on Saturday to spend an hour at the gym working out hard.  And that felt good, and I finally felt like I had done something worthwhile.  That for the first time in a very long time I hadn’t been just a waste of space here on earth.  

Saturday and Sunday passed with not much going on.  Worked on getting the house in order and realized that I had let things go to hell.  And honestly felt really shitty about myself.  Feeling like a horrible wife, mother…like I can’t do anything and I wreck everything I touch…but trying to pick up the pieces.  

Got into things with the hubs on Sunday after we had a very short conversation about George Floyd’s death.  We have very different views and beliefs about all things related to this event.  It was a very short conversation which left me fuming and things unresolved.  

Yesterday my motivation started to pick up a little bit.  Felt like I was getting things done at work, like I wasn’t just spinning my wheels.  But also very discouraged by the mess that’s been left in the wake of my absence.  That problems have compounded…there are a lot of issues that need to be taken care of.  Just another one of those slugs to the gut that made me feel like a failure at my job…at life.  But I’m fighting through those feelings.  I’ve cleaned up shit before, and I can do it again, and I’m just trying to take it one thing at a time.  

Last night I had a 4 hour discussion with the hubs.  It started out SO bad.  Probably shouldn’t have opened the conversation with “is that REALLY how you feel about racism?” when my intent really was to understand better what he was thinking and feeling.  We argued for almost 3 hours, and long story short, we worked things out and we still don’t agree on things, but had a good discussion about things.  

Then he asked if he could talk to me about when I told him last week that I was “struggling” and he wanted to know what that meant.  He said he wasn’t sure and didn’t know if that meant I was suicidal and he was gonna come home and find me dead.  And so we talked.  At length.  It was challenging…and I almost felt like I was talking about myself in a clinical sense.  Like I was briefing him on a client’s history.  BUT…even if it was kind of detached, I did it…so there’s that I guess.  

We talked about my past hospitalizations and the story behind them.  We talked about the feelings I’ve been having…depression, anxiety, exhaustion.  We talked about the fact that I’ve had thoughts of suicide to the point where I have called up to the hospital and checked on the bed status.  And we talked about me drinking.  We talked about my fears of what his family would say/think…about what MY family would say/think.  We talked about what he can do, what to feel okay asking about, and what to look for as red flags.  

It was good and we set some goals to be better at building our relationship and all that crap.  

And now it’s hella late, and I’ve still gotta drive home.  And this is probably the worst journal entry I’ve made yet…I have other thoughts that I’ll try to put down into words sooner than later. 

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