Tuesday, September 5th, 2006
Next month is the 4th annual gaming weekend. I've only been to the last two. Andrew paid for my airfare last year. He's doing the same this year. I guess that what friends are for.
The first one of these I went to was in September of '04. Shortly after the begining of my end. It was held in Sea Isle City, which made it really easy for me to attend. It's sort of a reunion. A bunch of guys spend the weekend together playing board games, role playing, and drinking a lot. It's a lot of fun. I felt really out of place that first time. I survived.
Last year it was held in Estes Park, Colorado. Andrew paid for the place, which was a very generous thing. The house was magnificent, and the weekend must have set him back a pretty penny. Brad is bearing the cost of housing this year. Will I one day be able to do the same? I don't know. Anyway, we're going to Austin, Texas, this year. I'm looking forward to it, but am very afraid.
I have done very little since I moved to Florida. I rarely leave the house. I watch very little TV. I do read a lot, going to the library every couple of weeks. It's not easy, leaving the house. I don't really do anything. I stare at the walls a lot.
I want to go to Austin. I don't want to go to Austin. I am such a mooch. I have nothing to contribute, other than being there taking up space. It's really bugging me this year. I don't know what to do. Andrew already bought my tickets. I wish he hadn't. I'm glad he did.
So, I'm divorced. I have no income. I have no insurance. I don't have a car. I live with my folks. I'm sick. I'm mentally interesting. I want nothing more than to die, yet I am too much of a coward to actually do anything about it. I miss my kids. I'm glad Heidi and I have been able to remain friends. I only have three of those. Andrew, Bob, and Heidi.
I'm getting my care at the local VA clinic. Thank God for the VA. I meet with a shrink once a month. I get my medicines. I wish the care was a little bit better, but I can't complain. It's free. Actually, it's quite good, my care. I get a regular annual check up, including blood work. I get my eyes checked once a year, and if I need glasses, they are free. It's a little tough getting an appointment with my Primary, but I don't really need to see her very often. Actually, I haven't had so much as a cold since I had the chicken pox in '01. I am phisically healthy. I just wish we could fix my head.
I've been hospitalized three or four times in the past 18 month. Each time for the same thing: suicidal ideations. I am in so much pain, emotionally. I sleep like crap. I am about 50 pounds over weight, thanks to my meds. Since I don't leave the house, excercise doesn't happen. I'm fat.
My son, Dante, was able to come down for the summer. We got to spend a couple of months together. It was so wonderful having him around. It was also extremely stressful for me, and exhausting. I couldn't let him see me being sick, so I'd wait til he got to sleep at night before I had my anxiety attacks. I barely slept while he was here. I'm making up for it now, though.
Dear God,
Where are you? How can you watch and not help me? I hurt so bad, and you don't even care. If you cared you'd make it stop, or let me die. I love you, but you seem so far away. I can't hear you, or feel you, or see you, but I'm supposed to believe you're here. Lord, I feel them and hear them. Tehy are here. I know you're real, God, but they are more real to me right now. Please make someone believe me, Lord. Why won't you make it stop? Please, Lord, please! If you love me you'll let me die.
This is a prayer I found somewhere. It is so true. I love it and hate it at the same time. The only reason I'm still alive is because of Dante and Kiefer. I don't want them to know how weak I am.
I don't seem to have a future. Be sick. Mooch off of my parents. Be incapable of doing anything. Wonderful.
I hate my past. I hate almost everything about it. There are a few things about it that actually make me smile, but most of it I hate. Truth. The only things about my past I would not change are my sons. Everything else is shit, and I want nothing to do with it. I'm glad I have no memories prior to 16. I'm glad I don't know. I wish I could forget the rest of it.
Next month is the 4th annual gaming weekend. I've only been to the last two. Andrew paid for my airfare last year. He's doing the same this year. I guess that what friends are for.
The first one of these I went to was in September of '04. Shortly after the begining of my end. It was held in Sea Isle City, which made it really easy for me to attend. It's sort of a reunion. A bunch of guys spend the weekend together playing board games, role playing, and drinking a lot. It's a lot of fun. I felt really out of place that first time. I survived.
Last year it was held in Estes Park, Colorado. Andrew paid for the place, which was a very generous thing. The house was magnificent, and the weekend must have set him back a pretty penny. Brad is bearing the cost of housing this year. Will I one day be able to do the same? I don't know. Anyway, we're going to Austin, Texas, this year. I'm looking forward to it, but am very afraid.
I have done very little since I moved to Florida. I rarely leave the house. I watch very little TV. I do read a lot, going to the library every couple of weeks. It's not easy, leaving the house. I don't really do anything. I stare at the walls a lot.
I want to go to Austin. I don't want to go to Austin. I am such a mooch. I have nothing to contribute, other than being there taking up space. It's really bugging me this year. I don't know what to do. Andrew already bought my tickets. I wish he hadn't. I'm glad he did.
So, I'm divorced. I have no income. I have no insurance. I don't have a car. I live with my folks. I'm sick. I'm mentally interesting. I want nothing more than to die, yet I am too much of a coward to actually do anything about it. I miss my kids. I'm glad Heidi and I have been able to remain friends. I only have three of those. Andrew, Bob, and Heidi.
I'm getting my care at the local VA clinic. Thank God for the VA. I meet with a shrink once a month. I get my medicines. I wish the care was a little bit better, but I can't complain. It's free. Actually, it's quite good, my care. I get a regular annual check up, including blood work. I get my eyes checked once a year, and if I need glasses, they are free. It's a little tough getting an appointment with my Primary, but I don't really need to see her very often. Actually, I haven't had so much as a cold since I had the chicken pox in '01. I am phisically healthy. I just wish we could fix my head.
I've been hospitalized three or four times in the past 18 month. Each time for the same thing: suicidal ideations. I am in so much pain, emotionally. I sleep like crap. I am about 50 pounds over weight, thanks to my meds. Since I don't leave the house, excercise doesn't happen. I'm fat.
My son, Dante, was able to come down for the summer. We got to spend a couple of months together. It was so wonderful having him around. It was also extremely stressful for me, and exhausting. I couldn't let him see me being sick, so I'd wait til he got to sleep at night before I had my anxiety attacks. I barely slept while he was here. I'm making up for it now, though.
Dear God,
Where are you? How can you watch and not help me? I hurt so bad, and you don't even care. If you cared you'd make it stop, or let me die. I love you, but you seem so far away. I can't hear you, or feel you, or see you, but I'm supposed to believe you're here. Lord, I feel them and hear them. Tehy are here. I know you're real, God, but they are more real to me right now. Please make someone believe me, Lord. Why won't you make it stop? Please, Lord, please! If you love me you'll let me die.
This is a prayer I found somewhere. It is so true. I love it and hate it at the same time. The only reason I'm still alive is because of Dante and Kiefer. I don't want them to know how weak I am.
I don't seem to have a future. Be sick. Mooch off of my parents. Be incapable of doing anything. Wonderful.
I hate my past. I hate almost everything about it. There are a few things about it that actually make me smile, but most of it I hate. Truth. The only things about my past I would not change are my sons. Everything else is shit, and I want nothing to do with it. I'm glad I have no memories prior to 16. I'm glad I don't know. I wish I could forget the rest of it.
posted by Cherrycat at 2:56 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home