Staying Afloat

I have been working very hard the past few months to get my life back on track. These are terrible times we live in economically, personally and globally. Yesterday there was an orchestrated terrorist attack on 6 separate areas in Paris, France. What is this world coming to? Living through so much grief, betrayal and pain has undoubtedly made me stronger than ever. I am only human, like everyone else. But sometimes I feel I've reached a point of numbness. I'm finding it hard to trust many people. I am unwilling to put up with anyone's expectations or judgments of me and my life. I have, for too many years now, put others needs, feelings, and expectations above my own. I am fiercely dedicated to my children, especially my 3 sons. We still live together and it is very cramped and we get on each others' nerves. But we know that we have to stick together and work hard to improve our situation. I do feel confident that we are on the cusp of better days. Everyone is working and basically healthy. I feel it would benefit us to go to group counseling to try to deal with all the feelings of anger, betrayal and the damage it's done to each of us. But we're not ready yet. I wish I could punch my husband in the face for the damage he has done to his sons. It is still incomprehensible to me how he could just walk away from them after all he put them through after all they did for him. He has caused them mental trauma that will not soon be forgotten or forgiven, if ever. I am grateful that my oldest, my daughter, has lived in another state the entire time this has gone on. She is luckier than us. I miss my life and my family. Everything has been shattered and just trying to piece our lives back together a teensy bit at a time is a daily struggle. Just last month my father died. He had been in very poor health for many years. Dementia was the thief that robbed him of himself and his health. The last couple of years he had to undergo dialysis 3 days per week, too. He was in a local nursing home, but I couldn't bring myself to go see him in his last months. Actually, the last time I visited him was right after my sister Teri died in 2013. My brother Robert, who passed away in 2014, was in from California. So I took him for a visit with Dad. It was beautiful, sad, poignant and heart-wrenching. Afterwards I knew I would not step foot in that place again. And I didn't. When I heard that my father passed I was so happy that he had been released from his living hell. If he didn't have dementia he would not have wanted to live like that. It was just torture. He was 86 years old. He was reunited with my mother, who died the day I was born 54 years ago. So I continue to navigate through this grief that began in September 2013 with Teri dying, continuing on to August 2014 with Robert dying, and now full circle in October 2015 with my Dad dying. All the while trying to wade through a life ravaged by my husband of 31 years abandoning us, bankruptcy, losing our home, health problems, financial woes, and trying to remain a good, strong decent mother. I don't falter when it comes to my children. My hope is that each of my sons will be able to stand on their own two feet without my constant support. But right now, we're just trying to keep our heads above water. Their father was weak and abandoned me and them. I won't, and they know it. The next time I write I hope to have stories of happiness, new milestones, and success for each of us. I know it's out there.

Too Much Pain

So where do I start now? So much pain...too much pain. It shocks my senses. Since I last blogged I have gone bankrupt, my husband abandoned us and moved himself to North Carolina, I've moved twice...on June 1st and again on November 30th, I injured my right knee quite badly in July (partial ACL tear, 2 meniscus tears, LCL sprain with avulsion fracture) and was out of work for over 6 weeks (and still facing surgery that I keep putting off), my brother Robert died on August 22nd, and I lost my home to a short sale in October. NO SHIT! I'm living in a 2 bedroom trailer with my 3 grown sons and living paycheck to paycheck. I could have never, ever in a million years foreseen all these events. I have cried more tears than I could ever imagine. Yet every morning I wake up, get up and put a smile on my face and my best foot forward and try to keep moving forward. My husband, who WE saved after his brain tumor in 2008, who recovered pretty well from his brain tumor, but never tried for one minute to work at feeling better and never returned to work again...decided he no longer had to be a partner in our 30 year marriage, no longer had to be a father to our children and and because he didn't want to live through another harsh winter...just picked up and left. He decided that only he mattered. That only what he went through mattered. He decided that he would pretend that he retired and fucked us over. His brothers helped him get an apartment, helped him move and have lent him money to furnish a 2 bedroom, 2 level condo on a golf course in New Bern, NC., even though he had a big house full of tons of furniture that I had to either sell, give away or throw away. Not once did his brothers or their wives contact me. Not once did they consider my feelings or those of my sons. They just took it upon themselves to help him run away from the life he completely decimated here. And Rich took my dog, Ranger, my Hungarian Vizsla, the only light we had in our lives since this started, with him, because I had no idea where I would end up. And my husband did not care where I ended up. Nor does he care. And I can't have a dog where I am. I will never forgive him or his brothers or their wives. This I promise...they are dead to me. Deader than my dead sister and my dead brothers. They are horrible, hypocritical people who deserve to rot in Hell. I will spit in their faces if I ever lay eyes on them again. I know there are better days ahead for me. I have to believe this or I could not go on. I hope it won't be so long until the next time I return to this blog. Trying to get through such overbearing and overwhelming pain and feelings of hate and loss and failure is something I'm not accustomed to dealing with. But I have survived and I will survive. I am a survivor! I am well rid of a useless excuse for a human being that did not know the meaning of the phrase "Man up." It should be re-phrased to "Woman up!" At 54 years old I now start my life over. Wish me luck.