Are we there yet?
Ugh.
They say that the definition of insantiy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
I say that insanity is standing in the face of a disaster and responding with a very blase "hunh. On any other day, that might seem strange."
Welcome to my life.
Honestly, I think I am getting used to this shit. It doesn't surprise me anymore.
On a side note that has nothing to do with what I am thinking about; I read the following interesting article:
http://www.sott.net/articles/show/234783-The-Truth-About-Hair-and-Why-Indians-Would-Keep-Their-Hair-Long
Who knew?
At any rate, I am, once again, the bad guy in the fairy tale.
I've long since given up trying to convince others that they are at fault, too.
Meantime, hats are knitted. Working on a sock monkey now. Have a few more items to do up as well.
Mostly, I'm tired.
I seem to say that a lot.
The thing about suicidal thoughts for me is that it's contemplation of finally having some relief not only from the pain this kidney disease brings me (and believe me, some days it's rather excrutiating) but it fills me with a sense that concerns of a worldly nature will no longer be my problem.
And there, in a nutshell, lies the horrible, awful truth.
I. Don't. Care.
If Don were to die tomorrow, and I died a day or so later, what happens next wouldn't be my concern any longer.
I'd be dead.
The dead have no care for the living.
I've reached a very dangerous point in that when Don has a cow and starts in about wanting to know what would happen if he were dead and I were dead, what would happen to Maryangel. I have to bite my tongue, because my first thought that comes to mind is "It doesn't matter. I'd be dead and it wouldn't be my problem, It would be hers."
Holy cow, I've grown extremely callous over the last year!
Don seems to think I would cease to function if he was dead. The truth of the matter is it would be a tremendous relief if he did pass away. Not because I don't love him, On the contrary, I love him quite deeply.
However, his failure to cease drinking alcohol means he will continue to be a severe liability to this household that can be ill afforded.
I haven't the heart to kick him out, knowing it would hasten his death. I can't live with that on my conscience. Ergo, I watch him commit slow suicide and try to prepare both myself and Maryangel as best I can.
Meantime, today was not a good day.
I have blood tests to do tomorrow.
Tonight, I am thinking it is grossly unfair to be blamed for our current financial situation. I agreed with the whole thing about saving all the recipts from anything that gets bought over the next month. I know it will turn out the same way it did the last time we did it. It will show that expenditures by Don on his habits are a problem and he will blame me, again.
Already, the tries to justify it all due to the stress he says he is under.
SSDD.
Whee frinkin' ha.
Meantime, I think I will go to bed now.
Being that I am experiencing that strange, surreal feeling of being half here and half elsewhere, I'm figuring I need the rest. The last time I felt this way, I spent the night in an E. R. Room with a chaplain holding my hand while the doc tried to stabilize me so I didn't go into complete organ shut down, into a coma and die.
I'm hoping sleep will help it.
If not, well, I'm pretty sure that there's a river bank up there somewhere with a fishing pole that has my name on it.
Peace and quiet beckons.
ME
They say that the definition of insantiy is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.
I say that insanity is standing in the face of a disaster and responding with a very blase "hunh. On any other day, that might seem strange."
Welcome to my life.
Honestly, I think I am getting used to this shit. It doesn't surprise me anymore.
On a side note that has nothing to do with what I am thinking about; I read the following interesting article:
http://www.sott.net/articles/show/234783-The-Truth-About-Hair-and-Why-Indians-Would-Keep-Their-Hair-Long
Who knew?
At any rate, I am, once again, the bad guy in the fairy tale.
I've long since given up trying to convince others that they are at fault, too.
Meantime, hats are knitted. Working on a sock monkey now. Have a few more items to do up as well.
Mostly, I'm tired.
I seem to say that a lot.
The thing about suicidal thoughts for me is that it's contemplation of finally having some relief not only from the pain this kidney disease brings me (and believe me, some days it's rather excrutiating) but it fills me with a sense that concerns of a worldly nature will no longer be my problem.
And there, in a nutshell, lies the horrible, awful truth.
I. Don't. Care.
If Don were to die tomorrow, and I died a day or so later, what happens next wouldn't be my concern any longer.
I'd be dead.
The dead have no care for the living.
I've reached a very dangerous point in that when Don has a cow and starts in about wanting to know what would happen if he were dead and I were dead, what would happen to Maryangel. I have to bite my tongue, because my first thought that comes to mind is "It doesn't matter. I'd be dead and it wouldn't be my problem, It would be hers."
Holy cow, I've grown extremely callous over the last year!
Don seems to think I would cease to function if he was dead. The truth of the matter is it would be a tremendous relief if he did pass away. Not because I don't love him, On the contrary, I love him quite deeply.
However, his failure to cease drinking alcohol means he will continue to be a severe liability to this household that can be ill afforded.
I haven't the heart to kick him out, knowing it would hasten his death. I can't live with that on my conscience. Ergo, I watch him commit slow suicide and try to prepare both myself and Maryangel as best I can.
Meantime, today was not a good day.
I have blood tests to do tomorrow.
Tonight, I am thinking it is grossly unfair to be blamed for our current financial situation. I agreed with the whole thing about saving all the recipts from anything that gets bought over the next month. I know it will turn out the same way it did the last time we did it. It will show that expenditures by Don on his habits are a problem and he will blame me, again.
Already, the tries to justify it all due to the stress he says he is under.
SSDD.
Whee frinkin' ha.
Meantime, I think I will go to bed now.
Being that I am experiencing that strange, surreal feeling of being half here and half elsewhere, I'm figuring I need the rest. The last time I felt this way, I spent the night in an E. R. Room with a chaplain holding my hand while the doc tried to stabilize me so I didn't go into complete organ shut down, into a coma and die.
I'm hoping sleep will help it.
If not, well, I'm pretty sure that there's a river bank up there somewhere with a fishing pole that has my name on it.
Peace and quiet beckons.
ME