The mystery which binds me still

MAN I am so low right now: trial continuance. This is an unholy marathon. I really thought October 1 was going to be the drop dead date, the end, like it or not. Due to some joukery-pawkery, proceedings march on. I’m trying to stay positive. The house closed properly, and that is ace. It’s been paint chips ahoy around here. Life keeps happening; it’s never one serving at a time. Of course Franny is having the hardest time deciding on colors for her room. This is a nice problem to have, but this is also a kid who can spend five minutes in front of a juice case trying to decide what to drink.

Last weekend we picked about twenty pounds of blackberries. I’ll try to get pictures up soon. This is really a matter of me not wanting to cross the room, honestly. I’m just going to meld into my couch and become a fungus. I always tell Franny that things will look better in the morning and now I am trying to tell myself that. I don’t really believe that being embroiled deeply in a struggle with someone else can ruin you. I don’t think this hate will warp me into a ringwraith or some shit. If it wasn’t this, I would spend my time hating something else. JUST SAYING. Life will go on. I do ask myself, though: why this struggle? I ask myself a lot how much of this is for her and how much is about me. I cannot say.

How do you know when you’ve paid enough for your crimes? Is there some kind of crime/retribution break-even point? Is that something you feel? I remember almost to the day when I stopped feeling afraid of Franny’s dad. It was in 2008 and it was a nice spring evening. I only feel a little sick now if I have to speak to him. I know that is partly him and partly my own deep shame. I can’t figure out if what I did to get to where I am currently is paid up or not. I also have kind of a surreal feeling of “how did I get here” and “I shouldn’t be here.” How did a bum like me get a family and a house and a dumb dog? I will tell you the truth and that is when I was younger I was certain I would be dead by now. I shed that feeling a long time ago, but I could not fathom what me at 35 was going to be like. I guess I’ll find out next month.

4 Responses to “The mystery which binds me still”

  1. AntMac says:

    I think you are great, and I admire you. Funny too, and interesting. You are a great mum.

    Just saying.

    You deserve the good things you have. Including all the friends who wish you well.

  2. Lisa M says:

    I’m a long-time anon reader. I have to poke my head up to say this: You are fighting a tough fight, one that has buried and ruined other people with less strength. So keep fighting for the right thing for your kids and it will all work out. I say this because I am close to the end of a journey to change careers, gain employment in this awful economy, moved 2,000 miles for work, kept my family together with spit and duct tape…and my god I never thought all the shit would ever end. But it does end and you get to be a brand new person with lots of wisdom and lots of peace. You can do this!

  3. iasshole says:

    Hi Lisa, thanks for poking in. It’s nice to hear that other people are in your boat as well with their own burdens to carry. *presses face against glass of your blog*

    Thanks, AntMac. This morning is better. Yay for sleep!

  4. Bugger says:

    I thought I was the only one with both a strong belief that I’d be dead before 35 (I still have a few years and there are still mail trucks), and the constant thought of HOW DID I GET HERE? But I sincerely want to be the crazy senile old lady that carries cat food in her purse and trips the children with her cane. I have the crazy part down already. Also, because I know how you love rambling comments on your blog, I am beginning to think the How Did I Get Here is required and comes built into the software.