Made it another day.

You never think of breathing for an entire day as an accomplishment. It’s muscle memory. Automatic. Something that just happens. You take for granted how easy breathing is….

Until it’s no longer easy. Until you have to consciously will yourself to keep breathing when you want nothing more than for it to stop. For the pain to stop. It’s not that simple when you’d rather choose death. It’s hard. So hard.

My day was quite pathetic. Last night I was going well. Still. I made it through my first job and packed my shit up. Deciding I’d rather work from home today as I didn’t want to leave my house. Then I went to my second job and struggled through my shift. After a 12 hour day of working and sobbing uncontrollably half the time… I didn’t want to go home. So I didn’t. Instead I decided it would be a better idea to go sit in a dive bar and cry silently in my beer all night. Playing amazing music on TouchTunes. Yeah. I’m a mess.

Today I feel awful. Not really hungover. Just anxious. As usual. But such intense anxiety I can’t handle it. I logged into work at 8. Made it to a meeting and then took Klonopin and slept until 12:30. Woke up in time to do the work I needed and make it to therapy.

That was an extra long session. Did we make progress? Well, I agreed to stay alive for the week. So, I guess. We’re beginning some new therapy next week. She thinks I have deep issues to address with “internal family systems” which are greatly effecting me now. I guess we have to deal with the childhood trauma before I can get through the most recent heartbreaks and trauma. It’s going to be. Rough. I’m desperate to feel better tho. So desperate. I also agreed to texted CPS again with a firm date of moving D. We aren’t good for each other. I’m not good for anyone. I’m struggling with that. That kid doesn’t deserve more pain. My therapist assured me I’m not failing her, the broken system failed her long ago. I’m just forcing their hand in moving her to a permanent option home long before they would have on their own. Of course my worker texted back she didn’t know if she could find anywhere by that date but she’s trying. Told the therapist this and she advised she expected that response but now they know I’m serious.

Max is gone at his sisters. I’m so tired of this. Him. His family. I’m tired of being treated like nothing. Like I don’t matter. Excluded. Ignored. Thanks for the invite douchebags. This has caused a huge amount of our issues this week and the last year.

I finally sucked it up and texted his sister. A novel. Describing how hurtful they are and rude. Asking how her husband would feel if she did this shit to him. Explaining that I haven’t heard a word from a single one of them since our daughter died. She went from wanting to be in the room and stay with us…. To silence. To not including me in anything. Literally, not a word since the moment her heartbeat stopped. How can you treat someone like that? I’m well aware her brother is an adult and can make his own choices. Yet, they guilt him into shit. They beg, plead, bullshit until he caves. Then it’s a fuck me because his family needs him. Because his sisters having a hard time – Why? Because she CHOSE to move away? Because MY baby died? Fuck you, you entitled fucking bitch. Sorry not all of us are rich and can just live off our husbands money and travel. I’m sorry MY child died. They suck. Hardcore.

She replied. It was all just bullshit. A bunch of excuses and blaming. Not once taking accountability for her actions or hurt. Blaming his ex-wife, ex-girlfriend. They made it so his family is cautious. Ummm, if they treated them like they treated me? No wonder there were issues. No wonder his wife left. I don’t blame her. At all. I should have reached out after the baby. Seriously? My baby dies and I have to reach out to you. You’re a joke

I didn’t reply. I have nothing else to say. My message was so nice. Expressing my feelings. Sharing I want to be included. Asking to help fix this before it gets worse. And THAT is what I get.

I’m well aware I need to wash my hands of this. If only it were that easy tho. I hate loving him. Baby steps… I need D gone. I need to pick up more shifts. I need to get this last $1,300 paid off from IVF. I need to save. I need to get to the point I’m comfortable and okay on my own. I’m getting there. Slowly. I’m so tired of this heartache. It’s ridiculous.

I guess in the meantime they can step up before I step out. Because when I step out, I’ll never be stepping back in. That’s that.