It seems like my life is riddled with drama. Mostly caused by work and one other person.

Our little boy ended up getting stung by a wasp today. We got some medicine put on it and he was back up going at it outside. My husband went to kill the wasp and its nest and the little on tried to follow. I picked him up and moved him away so that he wouldn’t follow. Little guy got mad and head butted me. I now have a bloody lip and a broken tooth.

We got home and I tried to show my husband my tooth. He said there was no way the little one could have chipped my tooth head butting me. Well, dang it, at least try to look at it. He kept telling me there was no way he could have done it. I kept saying ok to him. I’m not going to sit there and argue about my chipped tooth. If he doesn’t want to believe it, fine, don’t believe it. Then he basically got mad because I shut him out.

That was almost hilarious!? I shut him out… how ’bout him shutting me out. Telling me over and over again that there was no way it could have happened. He doesn’t believe anything I say. He shut me down … all I did was refuse to argue with it. I’m tired of arguing with him. He wants to spew his trash, he can do it, but I’m not going to agree with it necessarily.

Then he sat there on the bed and pouted for quite a while. I’m tired of having to deal with our oldest who throws temper tantrums just like him. I’m tired of her learning his bad habits. I’m tired of having to deal with three kids (including husband), and an old dog.

When is someone going to care for me? Maybe that is selfish, but for once, I want someone to take care of me.

Opening Up

It’s been rough. I am spiraling into depression. Hell, I’ve been here forever. I feel like I stay at rock bottom. I’m thinking about going back to counseling; at least then I will have someone to open up to.

I texted one of the bosses at work how I would go about going to counseling without my direct supervisor knowing. She gave me a long answer, including possibly going on FMLA. She ended the text with stay healthy. I responded back that healthy was a dream; I just want to want to live. I never heard a response back from her. I thought I had upset her; crossed some boundary I shouldn’t have. I made a mental note not to talk about it again with her. That was Sunday night.

Thursday I went in to talk to her about something else. Going back to college came up. I mentioned I wanted to go into psychology and be a counselor. Apparently this reminded her that she had called the clinic and gotten suicide hotline numbers for me. I had a meeting I had to go to, but I thanked her for the information. I wish I could have talked to her longer. I told her I was fine, but I wasn’t. I wish I had the nerve to tell her how scared I am. I wish I could talk to her about the conflict in my head. I wish I could tell her how intensely scared I am. I wish I could tell her the feelings are transitioning from wanting to die to wanting to kill myself.

I don’t know what to do. No one would miss me. No one would care.


I ran across this in one of my Facebook groups.

I’m pretty much alienated at work now. Unless someone *needs* something from me, I don’t see folks.

I sit in my office and pretend that I’m happy.

Pretend. Typically I’d say that it’s so much easier to pretend to be happy. To put a smile on my face

because that means I wouldn’t have to face the hurt that I’m feeling. Or to face the questions from

people. But honestly, at this point, no one is asking how I feel so it is even more lonely.

It feels this is never-ending. Right when I get to a point where I think everything is going to be ok, it

changes. I go from rock bottom to I’m going to make it through this, to rock bottom again. It’s just a

cycle. I had just recovered enough to think that my life was worth living; starting to be happy. Then all

this happened at work, and I realized that it really isn’t worth living.

Things get better folks say. I’m not really seeing the proof behind that. And at this point it wouldn’t

take much to convince me things could get better. Things are so bleak that any light would be helpful.

Anytime I didn’t have to argue with folks at work. Or argue with people at home.

So what happens when the chapters start running together? When life feels like one big long chapter,

with no break? When one chapter really does make up my whole story? Or what happens if there are

different chapters but they all end the same way?

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter which scenario it is. It matters that I’m unhappy. That I can’t

breathe because I’m so focused on just staying alive. That I have absolutely no clue who can handle the

intense emotions. I want to talk to someone, but not sure who I can turn to.

I keep wondering… do things get better?

Will I be strong enough to end the struggle? Or will the struggle end me?

Monday at Work

One of my supervisors talked to me that morning. He told me getting HR involved was not the answer. He told me if I did, it would only complicate things, and that they wouldn’t be helpful.  The only time he had to get HR involved, it turned out bad. That I should go to the guy and tell him how much what he did hurt. To let the guy who was harassed complain and leave myself out of it.

Meanwhile, my husband was being mean to me because I hadn’t gone to HR yet. He thinks that I still like the guy and that I was covering for him.

Truth be told, I knew that I would lose every single friend I had by doing this. I didn’t want to. There was enough to get Robbie in trouble without me getting involved.

Hubby kept pushing. I didn’t want to go up against him. I contacted HR late that afternoon, after I had left. Meanwhile the guy that had been harassed wrote a complaint to the bosses. I forwarded my thoughts directly to the director, skipping over the boss that had been involved.  What was the point in going to her?  She had already pretty much thought it was funny.

Sexual Harrassment

I was headed off to the Engineer’s Banquet, the one night a year that my husband and I get a date. I get a text from a good friend that will change life.

My former boss is going in for open heart surgery to replace valves, one on his aorta. He is terribly afraid.  Everyone knows how afraid he is.  My best friend sent me and some other folks at work a text that he had told this guy going into surgery that he was going to tell everyone he was really having a gender reassignment surgery. It really happened.

At first I thought it was all a joke. But the more I thought about it the more I realized it likely happened.

To make matters worse, my boss wrote back to the text that “OMG you’re going to kill him”. That was her response. What the hell am I supposed to say after that?  She was talking about it at the dinner table and brushed it off.

We stayed at the banquet until dinner was over but didn’t linger. I wanted to get back home. My mom and hubby read the text. They both encouraged me to go to HR.  My mom made me promise to go to HR.

The next day, I wrote the guy going into surgery and asked if this really happened. Yes this guy had and he was very upset. He had asked the guy to stop and he hadn’t. He thought it belittled the fact that he was going in for open heart surgery.

What worried me as a manager was that no one else thought what this guy did was bad.  No one else reported it. It was done in front of two of my folks, one a newer hire. This isn’t the type of character I want my folks to have. This isn’t what I want for them to learn from this group.

It’s been a while…

I’ve been reading some of my old blog posts. It occurs to me that not much has changed in my life. I have no hope of my life getting better. The kids and my husband are asleep on the sofa. It’s not even 7:30. I want to sleep but can’t. I can’t stop thinking about life. Or, rather,  of wanting to die.

I’ve been fighting these feelings since I was a little kid, well over 20 years now.  You would think the feelings would be easier to cope with. The feelings of wanting to go to sleep and not wake up.

I have two kids to take care of. They would miss me if I went through it, right?  But would they really?  The youngest is 16 months.  If I do it soon then he won’t remember. The oldest is nearly five. I can’t remember things that I did or that happened to me when I was five.  I don’t think she would remember me.  I don’t want her – or anyone – to remember me once I die. My birth was a mistake and I wish it were to never have happened.

I have no one in “real life’ I can talk to. No one understands what it is like to have to convince yourself to stay alive everyday. I’m tired of that. Mentally tired. I don’t know where to go to. I don’t know if anyone would care anyway. I also don’t want anyone to “tell”. If I decide to go through with it, I want peace for myself and acceptance from others. I don’t want someone to try to talk me out of it.

122 days…

Someone today told me that no one wants to see me gone. 

I don’t believe that for one second. I didn’t believe that when I was 11. I don’t believe that now. 
What proof do I have?  No one tells me that they love me beyond the obligated folks.  And I believe family tells me because that is what they are supposed to do. I don’t believe them. 
Samantha wouldn’t remember me. It’s better to go through with it while she is younger. Then she won’t remember me.  She won’t remember what a failure her mom is. She won’t remember how horrible of a person I am. 
I don’t want to be remembered. I’m a horrible person who doesn’t deserve to live. Everyone believes that. They are just too polite to tell me. 

I just have to make it to when this baby is born. Hopefully that will be sooner rather than later. Then everyone will just think I had PPD. No one will know the truth about how long I’ve suffered. 
No one will put together how horrible of a person I am. No one will care. Actually everyone will care. Their life will be better. No one will miss me. And I can’t blame them. I deserve to feel like this. 

December 15th

So because my days lately hadn’t been shitty enough, it just keeps getting better.  

Hubby pretty much refuses to talk to me. He won’t get up to go to work. He just wants to pout. I’m down watching Samantha and he wakes up. Wants to know if I was going to work. I told him that I would if he was going. He goes on about how I don’t want to be around him. That I should just have an abortion and get rid of the pregnancy since I don’t want to be pregnant.  
I’m crying.  I told him I want to keep the child and he argues with me saying I don’t,,,  
He yells at me some more and the goes back in to the bedroom. 
I kiss Samantha goodbye. Give her a big hug. Tell her I love her. I take off into the coldness with flip flops and a light jacket. 
I walk down a stream bed behind our house,  The water is cold.  I find a good place along the bank to sit down. I cry. 
I have no clue what I thought I was going to do,  A part of me wanted to keep walking down to the River and just drown. A very big part of me did,  I didn’t though. I regret that decision.
I got up and walked back to the house. My husband and daughter were waiting on the corner for me,  I have no idea how ,long they had been there.  I didn’t really care. I walked under the deck and continued crying there. He convinced me to come inside,  
Into the bedroom to change out of the cold wet clothes.  And there I cried more. 
I finally made the walk downstairs. I called up to get my prescription filled. And we went to pick it up later that afternoon. 
Arguing with him that he is the cause of how I’m feeling wouldn’t help. Nothing helps anymore. 


Beginning of December… First day back for one of my employees who had been out of country. She looked at me and asked if I had changed something… Yes, I had a new makeup.  She liked it. She said it looked like I had a pregnant glow. I thought nothing of it until a couple of days later when my cycle was late. Pregnancy test confirmed it…

I don’t want to be pregnant. I had every intention of killing myself for husband’s birthday.  Being pregnant means that I won’t go through with it.  
December 2nd. That’s the day I found out. And lost all hope…