Sorry if I make a few errors-I'm human and I don't plan on proof-reading. This is strictly to get out my train of thought that has no caboose. If you don't like it, don't read it! I don't plan on reading it when I'm done, so I don't expect anyone else to either. (Unless I'm 80 and lost some of my memory and need to remember life for a while and how I had it good but was so full of self sabotage that I wonder why I'm alone and nobody will love me enough to change my diaper.)

I'm sad. I can't help feeling sad. I have low self-esteem so much so that I think I should be sprouting tentacles out of my head any second now. I've overweight and although I didn't used to be, I never thought I was skinny before. My sister told me a few years ago that she used to tell me I was ugly and beat me up because she was jealous of me. This should make me feel amazing, but the damage is already done. It's a never ending spiral of guilt, binge eating, self-loathing, and apathy. My dad didn't want me for the longest time. He was an alcoholic and abusive. When I finally wrote about him in the school paper and how great it was to put all that behind me and finally have a dad, he went to his room to cry. I blamed him for so many issues in my life. Then when things got good after he stopped drinking, he died of cancer. I was so busy spending time with my father to get in all the good moments, I declined every invitation to my best friend, the most amazing person I have ever met that helped me change my life around after I moved to TX. Only to feel guilty that I didn't get to spend more time with her after she died in a car crash a month after my dad passed. Ya know, that wasn't even the beginning of the downward spiral. When I was in daycare, my best friend and I used to make out and touch each other with our pj's around our necks because she was sexually abused and we thought that was ok to do to each other. I don't talk to her anymore but I think about her often. My siblings say I was sexually abused too but I don't remember much from childhood. I know I was physically abused, not just by my dad but by my mom and sister and sometimes babysitter. My mom grew out of it but my sister never let up. In 9th grade I knocked the wind out of her by punching her in her stomach, but it was in front of my mom so that didn't go over well. She stopped abusing me for a while but started again when drugs came into the picture. She used to come after me with a knife every so often. I'm thankful I used to have a german shepherd that would growl and bark when anyone entered the room while I slept. My sister doesn't look great in orange anyways.

Even with all that abuse, I had a great support group of friends that never let me down. There was always drama but we were always friends (until I move to TX). I still should've turned out alright, but when I got pregnant at 14 and my mom paid for 1/2 and my boyfriend the other 1/2, I really didn't know how to handle an abortion. I still don't and it's been over 10 years. I'm just now coming to terms with my life, and I'm still sad about it all. After my dad died, I still chose a boyfriend that told me he couldn't be there for me, not because he didn't know how but because he didn't want to. As I cried on the bathroom floor every now and again, I stopped going to class and only worked at a job that the pregnant lady I was supposed to replace didn't go on maternity leave because she didn't like me because I didn't gossip (she told me so). I put myself in a lot of those positions but even after finding the love of my life (my husband) and deciding not to have kids for a while but pets instead, I still feel like I'm back where I started and I'm slowly sinking. Prozac doesn't help much, even though I just started it a few weeks ago. It really just numbs and suppresses how I really feel (remember the tentacles) so I decided blogging might get out some of that hopelessness so I don't take it out on my husband. Funny, I don't take it out on my pets though (thank God!). I don't care about followers or being heard, I just want the hurt to stop. Crying floods my heart with pain, so I'm going to write about it to stop crying and just feel the numb for a while.

Thank you for being my diary.
C.J.