He Can't Hear Me

I'm in love with a man who can't hear me.  Maybe it's on purpose, maybe it's through no fault of his own.  Whatever the reason, he can't hear me.  Can't hear me when I'm happy or sad or crying or mad.  He can't hear my life shattering into a billion pieces.  He can't hear the sound of me gasping for air and splashing about as I slowly drown in my own ambitions.  He can't hear me when I'm calling for help, when I need a hug, when I need a friend.  He can't hear me.

I suppose I shouldn't complain.  There are millions, no billions, of people in this world who have it way worse than me.  No running water, no clean food, genocide, oppression, slavery. I should feel #blessed to be in America, the land of the over indulged and entitled  millennials.  I should be thankful that I have a boyfriend who loves me at all, regardless of how inappropriate he is with other women.  I should be grateful that I even have a roof over my head...had a roof over my head.  I should be hopeful that even in my darkest hour I still had food to put on my plate most days and I never got anything worse than shingles and a couple tumors.  I guess it's the idea of I should be happy that my life isn't as bad as some people's.  The truth is, I think all those things are bad.  Yes, some of them are worse than others.  But should we really be happy with our lives just because it's not as shitty as it possibly could be?  Should someone be happy to have a mother that beats them because at least they're not orphaned and living on the street?

I have been homeless now for 9 weeks.  Tomorrow starts week 10.  I have in fact been crashing in my boyfriend's room for over 2 months, with everyday the space getting smaller and smaller and smaller.  I can feel the air being sucked out of my lungs and the light being drained from my soul.  There are many reasons for this.  Or should I say, theories.  1. we moved in together too soon.  2. we are both stressed out with unrelated issues.  3. we have communication problems.  4. we're from very different cultures.  5. he's just bad at relationships and so am i.  6. these are all fucking excuses and the real reason this relationship isn't working is because it isn't working.

Pause.  Am I really doing this right now.  Am I really letting the love of my life go.  Is he even the love of my life or was I so desperate to date someone who wasn't a total loser I picked the first winner I could find even though he may not even be in the same race as me.  Will this all hit me in a month that I really love the guy and that I just ruined my own life because of "irreparable differences."  The truth is I don't know what to do.  My mother always told me not to make big decisions when you're emotional.  Well I'm fucking emotional every god damned day of the week.  So how long do I keep putting off these major decisions?

I can't breathe, I can't think, I can't move.  Everyday I wake up and go through the motions and everyday I pray that nothing more horrible will happen the next day.  Inevitably I wake up the next day and more shit hits the fan so I don't know why I keep praying, it is obviously not working.  I am grateful I get to shit in a toilet, and that I no longer get beaten everyday.  I am grateful that if one day these heart palpitations actually cause harm there is accessible healthcare not too far away.  I am grateful that I have a man that can't hear me, because at least I have one at all....right?

I need to sit down

Hello Interwebs, it has been a while hasn't it.  I just read over some of my old blog posts and I realized that most of them are about boys and sadness.  I guess I use this place as an outlet to get my feelings off my chest when I feel like no one is listening.  Today isn't necessarily about a boy though, it's about many things.  I kind of feel like I'm losing my self worth and identity.  This year I decided to remodel my condo.  I have been wanting to do this for some time and I have finally pulled the trigger.  I started pinteresting like crazy in January, started interviewing contractors in March, broke ground in June, and here we are in August. It's been a long arduous journey and somewhere along the way I lost it.  I lost what make me, me.  I used to see myself as strong, independent, talented, creative, loving, generous, ambitious, beautiful.  Things that used to define me like my awesome roof that I put over my own head, my stellar work performance, my smoothness with the boys, all of it just gone.  I feel right now like I'm operating at about 50%.  So I wouldn't say that's clinical depression level but I'm definitely not optimal. I was dieting last year but quickly gave up on that as the remodel took over every nook and cranny of my brain.  I'm sad to report I'm a soft 135 lbs, which is sad considering my boyfriends is 150lbs.  Realistically when I'm actually working out and in shape and eating right I sit around 120 to 125lbs.  I'm now a size 6, so that's a bust.  Goodbye are the days of the 2's and 4's and 0's are just a dream.  I got in trouble today at work for being late.  I actually was on time but had to stand in the hallway on the phone because my contractor just told me that he won't have my custom door built by next Friday when he has to leave for another job.  So we're gonna put in some other door which is not what I want and then he'll fix me a door when he gets back in 2 months.  I've had nothing but issues for the last few weeks.  Everyday it's the sink, the floor, the HOA, the turtles, the boyfriend, the job, the everything.  For fuck's sake the only thing that's held together these last few months has been my car, Gavin *knocks on wood*.  Honestly, I don't know what to do.  When people ask me what's wrong, my response is just "everything."  Then they ask what they can do to help, and I say "nothing really, I can't even help it myself." 

Sometimes you just get problems in life that you can do nothing about.  You tackle each one day by day and as the problems grow and the trouble arises and all your plans fall to ashes you start to lose belief in yourself.  You start to lose that sparkle, your edge, that drive to achieve this amazing goal you have set for yourself.  It is at these points that people turn to friends or family for support and encouragement.  We all know my mother is not one for this.  She could give negative fucks about encouragement.  She is about making sure you know every single mistake you made ever in your entire life and why you are such a loser for making said mistakes because nobody makes mistakes, just you.  So I haven't really been talking to her much for lack of will to be yelled at.  My best friends right now are buys with their own shit.  One just went through a serious break up and the other just went through a serious career altering epic plunge and is desperately trying to get her life back together.  I don't want to burden them with my problems because they have enough shit to deal with.  My boyfriend is trying to be supportive, I think, but he's not super good at it.  He also is hypercritical and enjoys pointing out my flaws.  Like fuck, I get it, I fucked up, can we not dwell on that at the moment? Like fucking let me fix this and when it is fixed then we think about what happened and how we can do it better next time.  So I do feel utterly alone and helpless most days.  I have to remind myself that I am strong and that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to, but realistically these are just words.  "Fake it til you make it." 

I'm running out of steam and stamina.  8 months now I've been thinking of this remodel.  8 months of should I go with the bay waves grey or the Saturday mist grey.  8 months of if I move this wall here and put this over there will I burst a pipeline or a drain.  8 months of why is my turtle tank always dirty no matter what I do.  8 months of can I really afford a $3600 AC system and does it matter if it's affordable if it is necessary.  8 months of living at Lowe's and Home Depot.  8 months of kitchen design and bathroom design and what fucking tiles do I want as a backsplash.  8 months of how high should the wainscoting be and what about the decorative ribbon and the bullnose and the edging and the countertop and the drawer handles and the vanity that won't fit and the tub without the curved door.  8 months of how is this fucking closet going to work and why aren't these the doors I ordered.  I'm tired, so tired, and I feel like no one understands.  People get tired with a couple decisions.  I deal with decisions all day at work, life dependent decision.  Then I go to Lowe's and deal with more decisions.  Then I come home and have to come up with dinner and plans and even more fucking decisions.  My brain cannot make anymore decisions.  I am done.  I am sorry love of my life, but I am done.  My work decisions are important to keep my job.  My remodel decisions are important to make sure my home is livable again.  I can't make any more decisions about our relationship.  I feel bad, but it needs to be done.  I need you to take the driver's seat.  I need you to be captain of the team because your co-captain is motherfucking out on sick leave.  I am no longer fit for duty.  I know you're dealing with a lot at work and your property and you have just as many decisions to make.  I hope for the both of us that you are stronger than me and bigger than me because I can't be at the helm anymore.  I need to go sit down.