I miss him, and I am really not that strong...

...in fact, I am not strong at all. And that worries me. I am afraid of the future without us in it. I can't and don't really want to try to do this on my own. That is a horrendous thing to say and/or post, but there it is. This week has been tenuous (my hold on hanging in there) at best. No, I could never ever, not ever, put my children through losing both their parents after a wonderfully "normal" childhood.

My son is big on feeling safe and being secure. All of that has been ripped away from him and he hangs on to me ferociously and I do feel like I am failing. Instead of to do lists, I could be writing things not done lists. My mind, most days, is trapped on memories in the past that then bring on heaving, wrenching, ugly sobs. Not the quiet tears that I know many people think I should have progressed to by now. I. NEED. Him. God, if you had only known this man. He loved me. He cared for me. He thrilled me. There is no strength here...only dully plodding through life, after waking up and reliving the three most horrendous days of my life. I keep attempting to write exactly what happened that weekend here. It was the weekend we decided to buy land and build. Now that doesn't make sense, does it? None of it does.

To begin the story, I would have to tell you that we didn't take our daughter's problems seriously enough. (This is where I mention that I might delete these posts at a later date because I love her and I don't want to hurt her but she figures so hugely in this). What we thought originally was a severe case of spoiled brattiness was something more. She craves attention, needs for people to care for her. The normal attention that parents give to their children is just not enough for her. Which led, 7 years ago for her to tell a friend that we would throw her down the stairs when her room wasn't clean. The friend told a parent. The parent told the principal at her school (we were new to the school) and before you know it, CPS was at our door. Luckily, after speaking with me, observing her happy, well cared for brother, inspecting her room (which was a mess, and we were told that children who are beaten for unclean rooms usually have spotless rooms) and realizing it was the only disaster area in the house, they found no cause for child removal, charges etc. But, it broke my heart. And my husband's. He had adopted her when she was 8, after being her daddy from the time she was a baby. He had chosen her. And she had rejected us both, in favor of attention. We put her into counseling, and the end result was that "your child is spoiled. She is used to getting her own way and will stop at nothing to obtain it. She is, at this time, unable to admit to mistakes." I still have the paperwork. She was in counseling for a year and a half, considered helped, and the sessions ended. I should have never done that.

I am exhausted this evening. I don't wish to leave you hanging but I don't have the mental ability to relate the rest of the tale tonight. This blog is the dark side of the story, as if there is a bright side. I have to spill it out. I have written it on paper and burned the paper...written it again, and burned it again. It is almost as if it is a penance. Stupid Catholic upbringing.

Can I just say...

...that I hate this so very much? With every fiber? With every moment? That I'm sick of it and it really feels like it would be so very okay to just flop down and scream that I give up, and let whatever happens just happen? The making of the core of who I am is gone...so very, very gone. And I don't want to deal with it/think about it/be it anymore. I am becoming a person that I don't like very much, but it's become about getting through the day, and there are so many/too many days to get through.

Over thinking it and being overly suspicious

This is working out to be a better idea than I originally thought it would be. You see, yesterday another anonymous comment showed up on my blog. Whenever an anonymous comment shows up on my blog (which is known and yet unknown among family members, as in I never sent the link to anyone, but I talk about it sometimes) I try to figure out who among my friends/family would write like that. Yesterday's comment contained a "honey" and referred to the children as "kiddos". I swear this is my Aunt Marie (actually Leonard's aunt but I adore her and we spent a lot of time together looking at houses when ours was on the market -God was that just a year ago-and got close). It sounds like her, but then it's hard to say because lots of people might type that. The comment that she/he would be brave enough soon to leave his/her name also makes me think it is someone I know offline. But then, it could be my brother. My brother who talks to me once ever 8 months or so...who disconnected the phone the Christmas that my grandpa was dying so it wouldn't "ruin my mom's holiday", never picks up the phone when we call even though he should have learned after missing the call about Leonard and then missing the call about Nicole... It could be him. He who thinks that if I don't return to "The Laura we know and love" he will have me committed,"if that's what it takes". Side note, this is also the man who called me crying and not able to go on when his wife was in the hospital with intestinal distress, or after the earthquake...I could go on, but that would be boring.

Adding to the crappiness that is today...Magglio cancelled for the caravan tonight so Nik doesn't get to meet him after all. I was really looking forward to putting a smile on her face. Sometimes it really is one brick wall after another

because

I have decided that this is the place where I will feel very sorry for myself in the hopes it will help me through this, without being a downer on the other blog (ipromisenottolaughduringtheseance.blogspot.com) and making people feel like they have to feel bad for us. It just really seems that nothing, not even the smallest load of laundry, the quickest appointment etc goes right for me. I know it is perhaps the way I think of things through these new puke colored glasses I wear, but I can't help it. I hate it, I hate this, I don't want this... I just want him, and who I used to be and am familiar with, back.

A Really Good Job

Everyone tells me I am doing a really good job of

Holding it together
Mothering my children
Moving on

If you/they only knew. If they only knew how I sometimes feel as if the children don't (and never will) respect me and how it should have been me and not him because he always had it together.

If they only knew how many times I want to grab my car keys and drive away...possibly slamming into a brick wall somewhere along the way.

If they only knew that I cry every night, when they go to bed, ever day after I drop my son off at school.

If they only knew how much I realize that I really can't do this on my own, that I'm making a mess of it, and that it really is too much.

I need him. And the day to day isn't getting any better.

I feel better

I shut down google search engines for this site so I feel a mite better. Actually, I don't think it would have mattered anyway because I am sitting at a spot where I've gotten horrible about not even censoring myself within my family and friends. It is amazing, when one's world is rocked to its foundations, how one forgets to watch what one says. Pretty much everyone in my family, and his, currently knows how I feel about them.

And, could somebody tell my sister in law to cut it out??? I am still a decent mother to my children, I am not an 88 year old widow, although some of them have more pep than I do. I don't need her to take me to the store. I don't need her to watch my children. I need her to Leave. Us. Alone.

Oh my God, Constance, this was a wonderful idea.

I already lost my keys...

...to the front door. Typical. I don't know if I will use this blog very much, because I know that if I spill what it is I want to spill many people will figure out who it is I am. And I am a bit afraid of that.