deeply hurt / last post

reading the 2nd comment from my previous post has me in tears over my apparent stupidity.  i am devastated that i wrote that piece; that i expressed my fears and worries.  her words shined a bright light that shows what a fool i am.

the comment also has me realizing that i must stop writing publicly.  heretofore i have found words of solace coming from those who left messages.  but i am in a very dark place and now feel humiliated by what i write.

waiting on the results of a possible cancer diagnosis, the heavy fear of what might be coming my way, worrying about what and if and how...?  {if i do on with my worries it can be pointed out that there is no life without worry and i am a fool for expressing that i wish i had less to worry about}  but i do worry about my children.  i am at an extremely low point right now and i cannot take her verbal recrimination.  at this time i cannot take someone showing me how stupid i am with my worries.

i signed on to hopefully find some show of support that i so desperately need.  she made me feel ashamed for what i wrote.

he is not here to temper this little cruelty by saying things like, "aw, tell her to piss up a rope."  or "f*ck her.  write what you want.  it's your thing.  tell'em all to f*ck off."

he is not here to be with me while i wait on the doctor's report from the biopsy.  i feel so down and scared.

it will be a while before i even think of writing again.  should i choose to make an appearance here ever again, i swear up and down that i will take careful thought before writing something that someone might feel the urgent need to take apart and condemn. 

but since this has now become a source of pain, i may elect not write anymore at all.

Bunny out.

is this living or merely existing?

i'm not sure if i'm actually living or merely existing now. i feel like i'm drifting in a ven diagram of three overlapping circles. one circle is fear ~ financial and health. another circle is loneliness and hesitation to call anyone to simply talk, to let someone know i'm out here. the third circle is one of shock and numbness from the toll life has taken so far. fifty-one and i'm alone, without money, and hope is slim. all these circles overlap each other in that slice that is grief. it is the largest by far and the heaviest to sit in. i try to move out of this diagram but there is no map. it's a labyrinth of twists and sudden walls. i can't see over it and i can't find a way under it. i'm walking and walking but i get clubbed in the knees almost every day.

i am short of money, again. i am rationing food, again. my ex has decided i need to learn a lesson so he won't make another payment of the money he owes me until the first of the month. i've done it before. i can do it again, but i'm so tired. i'm tired of living. it's so hard. without the strength of my Dragon, i feel myself sliding down to my knees all the time.

it's ironic how much i want and how little i think i deserve. i want a small home, a townhouse maybe with a small enclosed courtyard for my two little dogs to play in. i want a small car so i can drive myself to the store. i want my quilts to sell, my sock animals to sell, my photographs to sell. i want my novels to be accepted for publication. i want to provide for myself so i don't have to make 5 days of food stretch for 14 days, or until he decides he will lower himself to make a payment.

i'm scared all the time. it goes up into a state of panic every other day or so, but i wrestle it down. i draw on my memories of my Dragon's stories of what he went through as a Marine. i draw on his strength from what i know he endured and transform it into my own strength.

there's no other option but to keep going for as long as life lets me. it's been taking these big bear swipes at me for what seems like forever. i want something good to happen financially, just once. i wished it could have happened while my Dragon lived. he deserved so much more than he got. he deserved a long, quiet, peaceful retirement. if you are a person of faith, it can be argued that he got it. that he's in Heaven right now with no physical pain and a soul at peace from the horrors of this life. i just wish he could have gotten some peaceful time with me here in this life. it's such a beautiful world. mountains. ocean. clouds. sunsets. the smell of bar-be-que. the sight of your daughter trying on her wedding dress. the sound of your son on the phone laughing.

i miss him. he's so handsome. his smile is so contagious. he laughs with all that he is. i could go on but it wouldn't matter to anyone but me. let me just say that to stand next to him was a powerful feeling for me. i cherish him so much. i just wish he were still here with me. i sit in this little apartment and wish for all the world that he were here for me to talk to.

going through each day in fear, loneliness, hesitation to let anyone who knows me how bad it really is, all the shocked numbness that he's dead, and all this heavy, oppressive grief is not really a life. i get up and i breathe, sort of. i dedicate myself to work all day, long hours to try and get it all done so i can have some more money to try to get a foothold, only to have to be realistic and know i'll never catch a break. he was my break. being in his arms was my one break from the tragedy that is my life. he protected me. he carried me at times. he made me laugh. he loved me and there was nothing that felt greater. having his full attention on me made me feel whole. i felt alive.

i answered my own question. is this living or merely existing? he's gone. the one person who cared every minute of every day what i thought, what i felt; who sought me out and wanted my love, he died. so i'm not really alive. i'm existing right now, and for as long as this fear lasts, of dealing with the ex and his payback for the divorce by using his weapon of financial oppression, i can't grieve fully. i can't live. it's so hard and so lonely without him. my mantra isn't working anymore. i'll have to make up another one.

money. i need some. i'm supposed to get a thumb splint. i'll get food before i'll get that. new glasses. you have to shake your head and laugh sometimes, but it's a bitter laugh, hollow if it's audible. i'm out of Aleve. even cutting them in half i didn't make them last. damn. things i can only write about. could never say out loud.

i haven't been able to stay at the widow's meetings the last two times. if i speak, i don't think i'd be allowed to say it all. and if i got cut off, i'd be so embarrassed. i'd hang my head and weep. they'd think it was for him, but it would be for me.

no, i'm not living anymore. i died, i think, when he died. i saw my future without him and knew what it would be like. not pessimism. it was survival skills kicking in. i was being realistic. and it's played out exactly like i thought.

i miss him. i need him. there's so little left for me to work with. i'm tired and in physical pain. if i could just get some food and some Aleve in me. and that stupid splint. i tried it on. God, such relief.

well, pity party needs to end. i need to get back to work. it's only 10 PM. i can get in at least two more hours before i completely play out.

if you got this far, thanks for reading. i'll be okay. okay is better than not okay. i'm the Dragon's wife, after all. he never gave up. neither will i. i want him to smile at me.