STEAMPUNK14

When we go out, we escape reality. We spend like the Gatsbys. I try to justify our spending, but it doesn’t work. Money has taken hold of my family and is keeping us hostage.

At this time, my wife is good when she has money. But I have issues when it comes to how/what she spends money on. I find it ironic that when she has money she is comfortable. But when she runs out of it, she can be bitchy. But who am I to tell her how she spends her money?

My only contention is that she pays for the Cellular bill. Yet, after a month, due to the fact that she quit, that she’s not working, I have all the responsibility.  Doesn’t she see that she can’t be comfortable and penniless at the same time? I don’t know if she would be a burden, but a positive point of issue is that we aren’t worse. Just thought of her taking out a credit card causes anxiety.  I live for the moment, day by day. I live for the next paycheck, day by day.

My grandmother gave me approx. $36,000. We spent all of it except $12,000. That was enough to buy a house. It wasn’t enough to keep it. After 15 weeks, we were close to filing bankrupt. For the second time in seven years. Who says 7 is a lucky number?

Yet, even though I didn’t know how to liquidate our assets, we stood firm for almost 22 months. We had help with family but the conflict still remained. We were literally 1 paycheck away from losing our house, living on the streets, foreclosure. I have never felt so alone. I have this preconceived notion that I should have this under control. She needs to help by declaring disability and collecting a disability paycheck. But I can’t know because she keeps secrets and won’t let me talk with her about it.

Now, pay attention.

Not too long ago, my wife saw these words forming these sentences. I thought I might lose her. She might retreat in the back of her brain, gone away because of my inability to escape conflict. I have only begun. I am still moving to form words and join them, my writing based on the thoughts you are reading.

 Yet, I have become constipated, sorry, pathetic. No more God. Since she saw my words on this document I have been Godless. Jesus, this is your fault. Crucify. I stopped going to Shabbat. Go with the flow, and letting it go.

I can no longer look at myself in the mirror. I can no longer look at her. I have nothing good to say to myself. She sits in a room beside herself, rocking herself through the abysmal phantoms in her mind, scratching her head. Two Blinks.

I am so lonely.  No I’m not. Confusion sets in.

I bring my hands to my lips. My mind is filled with the stagnant waters of loneliness. I am trapped to find my purpose again. I can’t believe how careless I was. Fuck.

Sobbing: a word in the English language that in definitive terms, gets “it”; from “Choked-up” to “Heaving.” Breathing in-between uncontrollable floods of emotions. I need you to understand this. Please, help me, my friend. Loosen the dry mud, hardened into clay. Please help me find my lord.

Is she so special that I have chained together my left and right polar sides of my brain? Is she the one? Is she the reason that I have twisted and harden my heart?

At least when I was single, I had no reservations about being a fuck. I used the heart as a toy. I am a real slut. Taking the high road is not always easy. I am divided between being honest and hurting her and being selective in choosing these battles. Who do I need to prove myself to? This is a call to all – of my dear readers – to rise up your courage and make a stand for integrity.

I suppose that at this moment, all I can do is to wait.

Wait to see what the future materializes for us, my wife and I. Bring it on. I am not a fortune teller. But, I prefer to think that we will be ok in the short term. I hope that I get it right!

JUST… GET THROUGH IT….

It’s a mixed bag. I don’t know, how the next few months will treat us.  I can’t read your future. I know nothing about your success. I can’t save you from your sins. A busy mind is developing, cultivating…

… stress. 

After a few weeks past, since an earlier argument with my wife, I am taking an examination of the collection of memories, and I see the light again. I have too much time and thinking about I have too much shit. I have not done this on my own. I have to trust in God. So far, God has shined his countenance on us as a family. But also, kind of fucked up in the same way. 

The haze of confession. I love the person, not the disease. I am determined. She has tasted the chase, and it is good.

However, Mental illness never takes a holiday. It’s a big race, a rat race, and failure is not an option.

My wife called urgent care, five times over the past 2 weeks – 5 days equal a whole week. She’s sick more than she is working. I am worried. She will lose her job. Here today, gone tomorrow.

There is no debate. She lies to my face and thinks I am stupid. She wants me to believe that she has sick time saved up. She has only been employed for 6 months. Simple math and economics, contradict her.

It’s a fucken tickle in her throat! That isn’t sick!?

 In my case, I accumulate sick time 8 hours a month.  In my experience, you usually can’t touch sick leave credits, until work exceeds 6 months of perfect attendance. In her situation, that hasn’t happened.

I want to laugh and cry at the same time. I want to feel trusted. I want to make her feel beautiful. But lies are dirty, rotten, and hideous. The antithesis of pretty. But I can’t take these experiences seriously. I can’t take life too seriously.  It is “over-the-fucken-rainbow,” ridiculous!

She isn’t that sick. It is a minor inconvenience.

Craziness., ape shit, irresponsible, mother fucker. I opened a bank account in our name only yesterday. What the hell was I thinking? Every joint account we have together has closed on us because she can’t balance a fucken checking account.

Am I being fair? Am I naïve? Maybe, she’s being cautious about our finances and this is her way of showing it. Fuck! I am so confused. Sigh.

I am destitute. Weakness takes over. I figured that I couldn’t argue because it would be too intense to handle as a family. I don’t want to take a part anything that might take away our daughter’s childhood. It’s unfathomable. Or is it too late?

When all good things come to an end, what pursues? That is the purpose of a “chaser.” The chaser has an appetite of blood.