I'm Not Done, But I Need Help
The past week or so hasn't been exactly as happy as I had thought it was. I was happy. I was elated. Better than I've felt in at least a year. I thought things were finally going to come up roses and start working out. We could start our life together. I was the only one who felt that excitement though.
It was my own fault though. That despair that he felt, it was my doing. I didn't truly believe I'd ever lose him so, I didn't think about it. He'd always be there. Unconditionally. Like everyone else. He'd accept me for the financial volcanic sinkhole that I am. My mom and my dad were the same way. My dad for his own selfish reasons and my mom because everyone else seemed to always want or need something. She couldn't bare to see someone want something. Those were my financial role models. My mom put herself into the worst positions emotionally, physically, financially, legally, just so, we wouldn't want or need anything.
I slept at the old house last night. I spent the night away from my boys and it sucked. I haven't cried myself to sleep in a long time - two years almost. After all of my personal progress - putting my notice at the diner, writing, reading, finally having a social life and a best friend after not ever having one - I had messed things up so badly that he had no alternative. I went into shock as I listened to him, staring at my desk, the wall, anything but him. My body was cold and it felt like there was no blood in my body. I didn't even cry. I didn't cry until I got into my car and started driving the five minutes to the old house.
I texted my sister, K, as to warn her I was coming. "I need a sister hug and a place for the night." My other sister, V, was leaving for a Blackhawks game as I pulled up. I was practically hyperventilating in my car at that point. She knew something was wrong, but I told her it would be fine and she left. She raised the alarm with K though it turns out, sending her nearly running downstairs to wrap me up in one of those hugs that only K can give. She hugs like Momma did.
Something snapped in me last night though. I woke up, stopped crying and took a deep breath. I wasn't done. I'm not done with us. I'll do whatever it takes to make this work. I've seen what's at stake and I don't want to end up like my mom. I don't want to live paycheck to paycheck, alienating myself from the world because I can't accept help. I need help. Emotionally, financially, psychologically. I need a lot of help.
It was my own fault though. That despair that he felt, it was my doing. I didn't truly believe I'd ever lose him so, I didn't think about it. He'd always be there. Unconditionally. Like everyone else. He'd accept me for the financial volcanic sinkhole that I am. My mom and my dad were the same way. My dad for his own selfish reasons and my mom because everyone else seemed to always want or need something. She couldn't bare to see someone want something. Those were my financial role models. My mom put herself into the worst positions emotionally, physically, financially, legally, just so, we wouldn't want or need anything.
I slept at the old house last night. I spent the night away from my boys and it sucked. I haven't cried myself to sleep in a long time - two years almost. After all of my personal progress - putting my notice at the diner, writing, reading, finally having a social life and a best friend after not ever having one - I had messed things up so badly that he had no alternative. I went into shock as I listened to him, staring at my desk, the wall, anything but him. My body was cold and it felt like there was no blood in my body. I didn't even cry. I didn't cry until I got into my car and started driving the five minutes to the old house.
I texted my sister, K, as to warn her I was coming. "I need a sister hug and a place for the night." My other sister, V, was leaving for a Blackhawks game as I pulled up. I was practically hyperventilating in my car at that point. She knew something was wrong, but I told her it would be fine and she left. She raised the alarm with K though it turns out, sending her nearly running downstairs to wrap me up in one of those hugs that only K can give. She hugs like Momma did.
Something snapped in me last night though. I woke up, stopped crying and took a deep breath. I wasn't done. I'm not done with us. I'll do whatever it takes to make this work. I've seen what's at stake and I don't want to end up like my mom. I don't want to live paycheck to paycheck, alienating myself from the world because I can't accept help. I need help. Emotionally, financially, psychologically. I need a lot of help.
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