Sunday, August 5, 2012

My Episode.

There will be doubts and fears.  It's how life teaches us to grow.  I'm scared and overwhelmed by the responsibility of the little life I brought home.  I'm not sure if I'm doing the right things for her.  I don't, or rather, didn't know even how to play with her.

Chris, my husband (common-law) took her leash and told me to wiggle it.  She chased it and I laughed.  It made me smile, despite my inner turmoil.  I was worried she wouldn't love me, or that she wouldn't enjoy going out.  I was destroying myself again.

Chris, as always, sharp as a whip.  Ordered food (not pizza this time, yay!), made me some tea and had me take my meds.  Apparently haven't done so in three days.

When he was out of sight though, I did something.

I wrote "Fuck Me Dead" on my scar.  You can't see it in the picture, I assure you it's there.  August 2008, I fell off a horse and broke both my wrists.
My left arm, from the base of my palm to about 6 inches down has a long scar down it.  A plate to keep my bones in place, as I cracked and misaligned several bones in the wrist.

I took my buck knife, placed it over the words and scar and pressed.  No blood, the pain and fear kept me from letting the blade bite in.  I am not well.  I am not sure how to get better.  I'm still afraid I'm making a mistake, that I'm not thinking everything through.  Edgar doesn't let me out of his sight.  Jubie is unaware of my turmoil.

I'm so far from where I need to be.  I'm asking too much from such a small life.  I want to give her an incredible life.  I refuse to lose sight of that.  I want to live.  I want to live!  Everything is so hard.  I know my friends and family love me, but I hate myself.  I hate who I am.  I have so much promise and strength, but my brain... my brain hurts!

Jubilee is the closest thing I have to a child.  I have nearly died twice from becoming pregnant.  Both times, I was less than 5 weeks along.  I couldn't eat or drink, and throwing up constantly.  I felt like a failure, like a broken tool.  We told my parents and my younger brother.  We did our best to hide it from everyone else.  The choice was simple: I had to live.  I lost friends because of it and we were too ashamed to tell his family.

This kitten is not a child, nor will she ever be anything but a cat.  A cat is merely an opportunist, my husband said.  She might just be a cat, but animals can do extraordinary things. I can't change her what she's not.  Instead, I want to know how she can grow and still be who she is.  I want to learn from her, while healing from the scars of yesterday.


This was handwritten earlier, I wanted to show my friends what an episode was.  It's a time when this happens, I don't know anything else but pain.  I decided to write it down, and share it.  Please, don't be afraid to comment, and share your stories.
(Answer some questions before it gets flooded, if it does.)
I am fine now.
Yes, I've had two abortions, both times to save my life.  In less than 5 weeks, I went from 135 pounds, to around 86. 
I'm using a IUD
They refuse to tie my tubes because of my age, despite being at high risk for this happening a third time.

1 comment:

  1. Those who dismiss you because of your life-saving abortions have no real concern for human life. The first time you told me about your medical condition, it infuriated me that people wrote you off for something like that. Reading it again reminded me of George Carlin's quote about pro-life: If you're pre-born, you're great; pre-school? You're fucked.