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Thank you to my dear friend Chris for calling and checking on me and giving me such positivity in your comments. You have no clue how much it means to me, and I am always and forever thankful.

We talked about the Mask we have to wear, the gauze veil Morgue wears, and the grey veiled fog of cotton that keeps us from just plain old FEELING. I want so DESPERATELY to be out of this depression. I want so DESPERATELY to feel again, something other than the empty numbness that has consumed me to my marrow. I want to live life again. Enjoy life and my kids (even though they are ungrateful assholes because I havent been much of a functioning parent) and breathe without this weight on my chest and heart. And here is where that man comes into play.

Every fucking day we have to pretend we are ok for society and family and friends that JUST DO NOT GET IT. This is not a choice by and fucking means. To see no not in anything. To hear the birds of spring and summer and wish you could shut them up just to have peace and quiet in order for your brain to be quiet. I’m tired of being exhausted no matter how much sleep I get. Because let’s face it, it is NOT a restful sleep. It’s that blackout sleep from exhaustion and mentally blocking all the bullshit “ok” we deal with on the daily.

I am sick and fucking TIRED of not even being about to talk to my parents about my life because they automatically assume I’m bitching (and you know what they say about assumptions) because i have actuality been called the crazy daughter to my face. I’m tired of faking line the only safe place is in my “room”. If that means I’m shutting out the world, then that’s on you. Because I’m not. I’m trying DESPERATELY not to fall apart, when in reality: TO LATE I ALREADY HAVE! And there’s not a damn person here who gives two shits whether I function of whether I fucking leave. How’s that for “family support”?

Ironic, isn’t it, that the people who SAY they support me and will help me don’t because all of a sudden they’re busy dealing with they’re own shit that didn’t pop up until I’m almost non functioning. Then I’m fucking told to suck it up because we all have problems. Way to go to make me feel like an even shittier person because I’m not “fucking normal”.

And so, the mask crumbles to revel the truly desperate female underneath, that feels no hope, no love, no life, nothing. And then they are shocked when they finally see and say “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US?!”

“Because you didn’t listen. You’ve never listened, and you won’t ever listen. Every time I have asked for help, if was met with sure no problem. Only to be told I can’t be helped because I need to do this on my own.” Fine. But don’t fucking tell me it’s wrong because it’s not YOUR way of doing things. I have to do it in the best way possible for me.

The Mask crumbles to the floor to reveal just how dark or real is for me. And you know what? They still don’t help because my darkness is impregnable, and is a darkness they can’t EVER understand. No one does but those who have walked in that darkness, pushing through it like a vicious liquid trying desperately to keep us in place. It’s that bone chilling cold that wrapped around us in a weighed blanket always pulling us down down down to the depths of our individual hell. Fuck even my dog knows I’m depressed. And if my DOG can sense and see that, then why can’t any fucking one else?!

Because it’s not a cast after and accident. Or a sling after surgery or even the stitches and scars. THOSE scars are acceptable to have. Our war wounds from our own battles, those are looked down upon as a weakness. A cowardice. Scars are fucking scars. I have one on my left inner wrist that looks like a tried to kill myself, which in actuality all I did was put my arm through a plate glass window trying to open a door that always stuck. Shitty, right? And i had to wear the mask that I was ok, when really I needed stitches, because it didn’t “look” that bad.

All my life I have worn a mask of some form or another. And each one I take off is replaced by another. And I’m fucking tired of wearing masks.

I miss being Sassy and free spirited and wild and untamed. NON of those things are BAD! It just means I view the world differently, a different way to live. And if you don’t like it, i give zero fucks because it’s not your life to live.

It’s mine.

And so I’m taking off the mask that says I’m ok, and leaving it off to show who I REALLY am under it. I am a hot mess mom, a giving and loving person with compassion and sympathy and empathy and SO SO SO much love to give.

But it would be really fucking nice to get it in return. And if I can’t here?

Then there’s no longer a place here for me, and I will go somewhere where I WILL get it. I am no longer afraid to walk away. Walk away from the non support, walk away from the negativity, and leave the crumbling masks begins me on that bridge and watch it burn.

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