“How can I blame you, when it’s me I can’t forgive?” – Metallica, The Unforgiven III
You still haunt my dreams. You are the best and worst thing that has happened to my life. I can still feel you next to me when I wake up from a dream where we shared company. The feeling of you is palpable. I can still feel your touch and smell your scent at times, that Aussie shampoo you used to use and the clean scent of your skin.
You truly do not understand how much you have changed, and thoroughly destroyed my life.
I regret breaking off all communication with you. I have to fight to not text or message you many times a month. I want to reach out to you to know you are okay, and that you are happy. I want to know if you’ve started the family we always talked about because you will still make an amazing mother.
Some days I don’t think I’m going to make it another day without you in my life. Lord knows, I’ve considered, even tried, not going on another day. I miss you more than words can describe.
I absolutely hate life without you J. You’ve ruined me, but I can do nothing but love you.
When an attorney promises to call you in a few days, and it’s been a couple of weeks. They don’t return voicemail messages, it’s a massive fucking waiting game. Can’t a guy get a divorce in this country without a hassle?
It’s been over six months now, since I lost you. I still can’t even watch episodes of certain TV shows without thinking about you. You still haunt my dreams, last night and this morning were particularly difficult. I hope you know you’ve ruined me, and all I can do about it is continue to love you. Life’s a bitch, then you die.
Still having major problems keeping my emotions in check. Shame there’s no magic pill to treat bi-polar disorder. Doctors have yet to find a combination that keeps me level, and I usually end up at rock bottom for long periods of time. Add in one of the worst years of my life and I’m pretty much as low as I’ve ever been.
Being overemotional used to lead to productivity. I used to churn out poetry when I was “emo,” but since starting on medication my brain works differently. I can no longer meld words together the way I used to. I now have to work hard to form a stanza or verse. Seeing as writing was a form of therapy, something I enjoyed doing that cam easily to me, it’s not become tedious and frustrating.
I guess all I can do is hang in there. Things can’t get much worse.
Today it’s been a year since the death of my nephew in a tragic house fire. The past twelve months have been a special variety of Hell. Not only did I lose a loved one, but I also then lost someone I loved. I’ve been nothing but a hyper-emotional ball of pain and despair and I can’t seem to find the energy or the way to climb out of the pit. I’ve had my medication adjusted twice, to no avail, and have nearly been hospitalized because I’ve been having issues coping with both losses. My most recent medication change was promising for about a week and a half, after that my energy level dropped and the emotional roller coaster resumed.
There are days, more than I’ll ever freely admit, that I wish I was no longer here. Fortunately, however, I couldn’t do that to my family and friends… they’ve lost enough.
Warmer weather has finally made an appearance, I just hope it sticks around now. There’s so much more you can get out and do when it’s not freezing. I have about 16 lbs left to lose, and if the weather cooperates I’m hoping to have it done by the end of Summer.
Once the weather is steady I’ll start pounding the pavement again, though for now I have a little circuit course I walk in the yard. I was doing 20,000 steps a day for a little over a week, but managed to pull a muscle in my heel. Just waiting for it to heal to get back out there and do some good for my heart.
I don’t listen to music often enough, and this is probably one reason why. I’m sure most people who have gone through a serious breakup get to the point where every song that comes on the radio or streams through Pandora reminds you of the person that is no longer in your life. That tends to make you hate music. Sorry Amazon Echo, you’re going to be silent for a few nights.
I started this blog not only to showcase the writing for my memoir, Walking Back to Me, but also because I was walking back to myself in so many ways. The memoir is on hold, though almost finished, until I take care of some major life issues… I don’t want to publish it just yet and have it bite me in the ass. I have however, starting last week, started to get back to pushing myself when it comes to walking. I gave it up for nearly six months because I lost someone in my life who meant everything to me, and I started to slide back into the pit that is clinical depression, or in my case the depression phase of my bi-polar disorder. I’m still in that phase, but thanks to a small medication change I’m starting to get the energy, and a bit of the drive back to try to salvage some of the gains I made last summer.
I started with a small healthy goal of getting back to my 10,000 steps a day routine, last week I averaged just over 10,000 steps a day. This week I’m pushing things up a notch, pushing a little harder every day. Yesterday I broke 20,000 steps, today I’m looking at hitting 10 miles. I’m not doing this all at once, it’s still bitterly cold and windy outside, so I can’t get out and pound the pavement. Instead I’m doing this in small chunks… I’ve made a little course in my yard and I now follow a circuit and am slowly increasing the repetitions until I get where I want to be. If I can get to the point where I’m averaging 20,000 steps a day, then my heart will thank me and I’ll finally easily hit my weight loss goal.
From January 1st 2015, to January 1st 2016 I lost 116 lbs. I only have about 17 lbs left to lose to be at my goal, but each pound is now a lot harder to shed as I’m building muscle at almost the same rate I’m burning fat, and muscle is heavier or denser than fat. I’m sure I’ll shake off the last 16 lbs with a little diet tweaking, then it’s keeping it off.
I need to finish what I started… for me.
One lesson I have left to learn is how to forgive myself. I lied to myself for years to hold onto the slimmest possible chance at my dream, knowing full well in the depths of my mind that it was a lie, that I was being used. I’m having a hard time trying to figure out how to forgive myself for wasting years of my life on someone who didn’t deserve my love, loyalty, or devotion. The sacrifices I made for even a chance at a future with her are legion. I gave up my family, my career and even my freedom to be in her life. How does one begin to reconcile wasting a quarter of their life? I’m still trying to figure out a way to forgive myself, but I’m not sure I ever will…