Snow Day.... when do I get one?

I'm sure most people in my area woke up praying for the snow to be gone.
Me?

I woke up praying for my dreams to not be real.
I woke up from a dream about my past, and prayed it wasn't real.
But flashbacks are real.

They aren't just memories.

My flashbacks - MY flashbacks are waking up from a horrible dream, and then going to make coffee. And while I'm standing at the coffee pot, seeing my Grandfather walk from the doorway behind me.
They aren't just dreams, not just thoughts - they are projections.
They are seeing my husbands face distort into HIS. They are seeing him standing at my bedroom door at 2am when I wake up from nothing.

Today - it is beautiful outside.
The trees are covered in snow, and the clouds match the color.
But inside, I am wishing I hadn't gone to bed last night.

I know he is dead - I know when I see him, he is not real.
But in my dreams, behind closed eyes - he is still real; the fear of him, is still very much real.

Illegitimate Child

Start a blog and disappear? Did I forget to mention I have ADD? BA HA HA HA
Anyways, I had reasons... main one being, surgery! Had a carpal tunnel release on my right hand, and guess who is right handed?? Me :)

It funny you know - how easily we find out how much we matter, or if we don't at all?

A couple months ago I remember getting a call from my Mom (almost frantic), she was headed to the ER to meet my brother - he had stomach pains. Um, ok.... keep me posted.

Any time my siblings bang a toe my Mom is running off.
So, here is me, a week before surgery - "Do you think you or Dad can take me for my surgery? I might need to be there as early as 6am, but i'm not sure. And I really don't want to take the bus if i'm going to be sedated."  -  "I'll ask your father."

Text message the next day - "Dad said yes, lucky for you he is even more crabby early in the morning." Oh yay!!!

Night before surgery - "Hey Dad, surgery is at 9am, they said I should only be there for an hour and a half tops. I don't know if you want to wait for me, or..." (before I can finish) ".... I'm not bringing you home. I said I would drop you off, thats it." ..... *dumbfounded* "... I cant take the bus home if I'm on medication, I don't know how I would even walk to the bus, its half a mile away from the hospital."  .....  "I'll drop you off, but I'm not taking you home, I have things to do."

WOW, wtf?!?!

Call my mom - "Did you tell Dad I only needed a ride to the hospital?" ... "Yea, you said you didn't know if you could get a ride that early." .... "Mom, I'm having surgery, how am I supposed to get home if I'm out of it?"  .....  "Well I didn't know you needed a ride home too!!!"

Fuck it. Seriously.

You can run run run to any of your other kids, but here I am, asking a week in advance, and, you just can't. I seriously feel like I'm the illegitimate child - the one who they can't be bothered with.

I mean, do they get it? Or no?

I can't imagine treating one child better than the other!! I already have guilt over providing my youngest a better life by placing him in adoption - I can't imagine feeling content with keeping your child at arms length.

Remember all those things I'm supposed to tell you, and not supposed to tell you?

Well, tonight;

What I'm supposed to tell you is my parents have a very busy life, that leaves little time for much else.

What I'm not supposed to tell you is, they are only busy when it comes to me.

Peace.
Out.

Image from: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Lonely-40159536

Why is it so hard to be happy?

It's hard watching everyone else building families, buying homes, cars, and im here like, "just trying to survive another day, don't mind me."

It feels like im irrelevant to everyone in my life. And just making that comment turns my stomach because i fear the backlash.

What I'm not supposed to tell you...

What I am supposed to tell you is that my childhood was normal, with a normal dysfunctional family.

What I'm not supposed to tell you is I was sexually abused when I was a child, by my fathers, step-father.

What I am supposed to tell you is I lied about everything I ever told my counselors growing up.

What I'm not supposed to tell you is that its all true, and it still effects me today.

What I'm supposed to tell you is that I lie and use those lies to get my way and stay home on my ass all the time.

What I'm not supposed to tell you is that my panic attacks are real, and I some days I cant function in public.

What I'm supposed to tell you is: Everything is fine, and I will be OK!

What I'm not supposed to tell you is the truth; what I'm supposed to tell you is a lie.

What I'm not supposed to tell you is that my PTSD and Borderline is real.

What I'm supposed to tell you is, I'm normal.

I'm not normal.

Now I am going to tell the truth.

This blog will be Truth.

No more lying.

Image from:

http://jakko90.deviantart.com/art/Bezsenno-2-398239888