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DOH Monday: French Pastry

Recently, a friend of mine went to Paris. As we were messaging while she was there, she asked me what I wanted from France. I told her I couldn’t think of anything because French clothes were far too expensive for me to ask anybody to buy for me.

Then it occurred to me: the French are known for their pastries. So I told her if she could figure out how to get me a pastry without it getting stale or destroyed, then a French Pastry would be divine.

This woman didn’t just get me a french pastry. She got me a Basque French Pastry. From the Basque region of France. And she managed to get it home from France INTACT, and not stale. I was duly impressed.

It was unfuckingbelieveably good.

How To Release Someone

I am in love with a person who is so possessive I feel as though I am being tortured.

Our relationship was physically abusive three years ago, but that has stopped. The mental and verbal torture is almost worse.

I can’t stop loving him. When he was sober, he was my best friend. I never dreamed so many dreams, accomplished so many things, laughed so much in those short years. Now he is a monster. His possessiveness knows no bounds. He threatens to kill himself when I say I’m leaving the relationship. I am afraid for the little dog he owns, whom I love.

I must release him to the world. To someone else. To himself. Only, he doesn’t want his life.

It reminds me of the old Ana NG lyrics,  “I don’t want the world, I just want your half.”

If I stay late at work, he is mad. If I stay home at night with my cat, I apparently don’t love him anymore …the list goes on.

I cannot do this anymore.

I am finally getting back into enjoying my life. I see a future possibly for myself. I don’t feel broken every single day, like I have all my life.

I was raised in an abusive, violent, alcoholic-ridden family. I am not the greatest person. I am a failure and I don’t know how to have a normal relationship either. I am no good most of the time. I have a mood disorder and trichotillomania and am afraid of being alone forever.

I don’t want to lose my best friend, but it is killing me to be tortured every single day. I can’t be with this person. I want to, but cannot imagine living with him and being trapped in the same home with all the manipulation and possessiveness.

I’m not making much sense.

I just need to know how to release him to a better place then where we are now.

Thanks for listening.

Depression Rears It’s Ugly Head

I’m not a stranger to depression. I live in the frozen tundra and seasonal depression is a way of life up here. I went through previous bouts of depression after my sister died and after my first miscarriage.

It’s back. It’s been slowly building for months.

I hate it, but I have to deal with it now.

It’s not normal to sit on the couch and sob because my house is a mess and it seems like all my friends have older kids who don’t leave toy cars all over the floor. Everyone has problems. Everyone has issues. If my kids were older, there would be other messes, other problems. Wishing my children were in high school is not going to fix anything.

I feel like everyone around me has their life together while I’m falling apart. I have no interest in taking care of my house. I don’t want my pets anywhere near me. The puppy I didn’t even want, but has completely attached himself to me, needs training, but I can’t handle it. Our latest (surprise!) litter of kittens need to be litter-box trained. I can’t deal with that either. My children annoy me. Important paperwork that needs to be taken care of sits untouched because I can’t process the thoughts about how to even fill them out. My kitchen is a disaster. My living room looks like a tornado came through it. I have a load of laundry that is probably molding inside my washing machine right now.

I’ve never understood people who run away from their lives and start over. Until now. It’s really tempting. I used to go for drives by myself when I needed to blow off some steam. But now, I can’t trust myself to get behind the wheel because I don’t know if I would come back. I know my husband and my children need me. I stay because of a sense of duty, but my heart isn’t in it right now.

On Sunday, I had a really bad cold. With my husband home, I could go in the bedroom and rest. I took a good book, my laptop, my phone, my headphones, and stayed all by myself in bed for most of the day. It was the happiest I’ve been in weeks – being alone and able to do whatever I wanted. I read. I napped. I listened to some favorite music. I watched a movie that didn’t involve animated creatures. It was heavenly. When I finally had to leave the comfort of my room and my bed, I had to resist the urge to kick and scream and act like my 3-year-old when he’s overtired and I tell him he has to take a nap.

This morning, a family issue required my action, and I had what I’m guessing was an anxiety attack. I shut down. I could not do what was needed. I started shaking, and tears poured down my face. Thankfully, that action was able to be put off until tomorrow and I have time to prepare myself mentally for what I need to do.

This is scary.

My husband recognized last week that I’m not well and insisted that I get help. I met with my doctor yesterday, and she put me on an antidepressant. Unfortunately, I know all too well from all of my husband’s bipolar medications that mood and brain altering drugs can take weeks to take effect. I do no look forward to the wait.

I’ve made an appointment to meet with a therapist. I’ve let some family members and my closest friends know what’s going on with me and everyone has been really supportive.

But I still feel so very, very alone.