Thanks Thumper’s Mom

Taking a cue form my favorite childhood movie Bambi again. “If you can’t say nuttin’ nice, don’t say nuttin’ at all.”

So this will be short again, in an attempt to follow her words (attempt being the operative word).

Still running on exhausted and having people angry at me for not being able to produce more hours to give, more of myself to give is tearing me up. I give up. I’m only one human, and right now there’s only one voice ever trying to support me and say kind words- Nathan. For the better part of 2 months even.

I’m tired of getting yelled at about things that are out of my control, that half of them I wasn’t even around for. It’s hard to be the cause when you’re at work 7 days a week, but everyone expects me to hold solutions for everything. Guess what, even if I wanted to, I can’t. There’s only one of me.

How about instead of yelling about things not being done, not being the way you want them, offer a solution. Make suggestions, offer a helping hand. Of course I’m just being a naive fool again, thinking that if I devote all of myself to someone or something they will do the same. I’m a stupid, stupid fool that loves and trusts far too easily, and it only hurts me- no one else, so I think I’m done with that.

Last night I hit max density again. I sat holding a bottle of maximum strength Tylenol in one hand (knowing there was 5 solid days worth of pills in it), and my other holding my head and praying that God would provide. I was torn between suicide and more struggle yet again. I just don’t understand how I can find and have so many really really good days and a relatively short time later end up in a hot mess of everything. When is my permanent relief coming?

Nathan, my rock, convinced me to sleep. That won, and this morning I’m functional. Not hopeful, not happy, functional. I’ve fought tears multiple times today while at work. I write this as I wait for Nathan to come pick me up. Somewhat hopeful he might have good news about a new home. Right now I just need good enough, safe enough, and cheap enough. I can work on better from there.

I have temporary relief inbound. Borrowing a little from Nathan’s parents, gifts from co-workers in the form of Walmart Gift Cards, and a gift from the pastor at work, and Hannah covered last months’ regular costs. It’s enough for now to fix the immediate needs of throwing half our life away again, and spraying/treating and stowing the other half. Again finding myself wishing I could watch it all burn to the ground and being told- that is not OK. Somehow I just feel like it’s the easier option and I’m sure there is an organization that would help us start from scratch. But painful and tedious it is.

Now if only I could produce the hours of relief equivalency without losing any wages.

For now it seems my 10 to 12 hours days will have to turn into 12 to 16 hour days to try and get it done. If only I had somewhere to drop the kids off or someone that could come watch them so I could have uninterrupted time to do so. Late at night that is a tall order, and one that I can’t afford anyway. Everyone I know is done with us. My family and I have yet again been discarded like trash, and when I’ve been working so damn hard to try and fix everything. Every penny I make has gone to that goal, every ounce of my being, every thought, every hour of every day I do my best to pull up and create better. All for nothing.






Here ma, here’s my mud pie that was supposed to be a gorgeous vase. Don’t you like it?

No- maybe another dozen tries and I’ll get something you’ll say yes to. Or I’ll just give up all together.

I caught the first 15min. of that new show God Friended Me, and all I could think was I get those messages, but they are even more muddled than his. I understand them even less than he did. Mine are so not helpful. I get love videos from the ethers, but always when I am struggling the most; and a string of license plates with my birth year on them, or some other set of characters repeated. They’re not even the length of a tweet but I’m supposed to know what they mean. At this point They either need to get clearer or just stop. The last 4 times I thought I understood- I had really, really bad days, and told them then that if they could only warn me of bad things then quit messaging me. I need messages of good things inbound. I need to know that all of my efforts have meant something, and right now I’m doubting that fiercely. I’m clinging to the tiniest shred of hope, and that’s about to snap. I’m throwing my belongings away again, but there is no solution for the invisible elements that dog me far worse. No solution for healing my brain, no solution for repaying my debt, at the rate I’m trying I’ll spend my whole life making insignificant payments and probably still die owing someone money for my worthless degree, I need permanent relief, not more messages about another effing bad day.

If you made it through all of that crap pile, the point that being made is I didn’t take myself out. I’m still alive, to keep trying, and that I owe to my husband Nathan yet again. He wants me to pull all the way up and write another post from the in the vortex view… I’m not there yet, but give me a few days, maybe.

Point number two… I’m good at borrowing and begging and working long hard hours, but still suck at manifesting. So I’m in no place to tell anyone else how to fix anything yet. Again maybe one day, not today.

About Treasa Cailleach

I'm a massage therapist working with chiropractic and the elderly; musician, artist, pagan, mom, B of LGBTQ, & polyamorous professional.

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