BubbleButt

I used to get drunk on a daily basis for the past year or more. I’ve finally settled down. Got it out of my system, almost. And the more time I spend at home, in the company of my family, the more I’m reminded of why the hell I would do anything to get the fuck away from them.

This is why I started going out in the first place. By going out I mean meeting up with friends, getting drunk, clubbing and all that jazz. Though all of that sounds relatively normal, everything I did – I did in the unhealthiest way imaginable. Most of you already know the depths to which I had sunk.  But at the root of all this – was a break up, in which I was left drowning in an ocean, not knowing which way was up. Over the months, as I went deeper and deeper in to the depression and self-degradation, I realized that I couldn’t stand my family. I know that I (deep deep deeeep down) love them, but I think that, for their mental health, as well as mine, we need to maintain our distance.

I spent my entire childhood in 4 places. My room, school, church, stuck inside the car. Over and over again, this was my life. I’d beg to be allowed to go places, mostly it was just to go over to a friends, but I was brick-walled – every single time, and eventually I got tired of begging. I remember wondering what the fuck could be so wrong about being allowed to go hang out with your best friend for a day, and I remember never finding a reason that was good enough. All these years later, I still don’t.  Little things like that really made me want to tear away from the nest. 

Last year – I just dropped all pretenses. I told myself I’m done caring about what people expect me to do. I’m done taking the shit my parents gave me about being a single mom;  2 years down the line they were still yelling at me about how I ruined my life, how no one will ever marry me, how people will always talk and the list goes on.  Their words hurt, but I’d rather cut my own arm off, than let them know it.

So I rebelled. I went wherever I pleased, and I never let them know. I let go of ‘The Burden’ my parents and my ex painted my beautiful son to be. I HATE MYSELF FOR THAT. I will never ever forgive myself for letting my child out of my sight. My ex takes care of him now, and he does a pretty decent job of it – even though I hate to admit it. I went on a proper bender last year, and now I’m done.

I’m done with that life. I’m done with letting people use me. I’m done with the self indulgence. And all it took was getting over my ex. It took a year, but at least I’m not trying to fill the gaping hole he left with meaningless sex, booze or fake friends anymore. I think I’m ok with being on my own. And once I had this epiphany, it became instantly easier to walk away from the crazy life. It became easier to accept that I was a fool. That I let my son down. And it became obvious, that I had wandered too far.

But giving up the crazy life brings me back to square one. Stuck in my parents house. No privacy. I don’t have a room of my own. I don’t have a bed of my own. The only time I’m alone is when I’m having a shower. The fights. They never end. On and on and on. Sometimes I stay out of them, sometimes I yell just to try and make them stop. But all the time – I just want to get the fuck out of here.

I wish I made enough money to get a small place of my own. One bedroom, small living area, kitchen, loo. That’s enough for me. I just want a place where I can read the bible without being laughed at, if that’s what I feel like doing. Or just have a glass of wine, and smoke a cigarette if that’s what tickles my fancy. I want a place that I can fill with positivity, a place that my familys dark cloud of negative energy can never penetrate. I want a place where I’m not always angry. A place that I can bring my son into. Where I can sleep with him on the same bed, and wake up to his sweet sweet smile in the morning. The last time I slept next to baby bear was on my birthday, last year, in October.  I want my son back. And I want my son to have his mommy back.

I’m going to make this happen. I want out so bad, and I know if I focus hard enough I can get away from this black hole of depression. Don’t get me wrong, I won’t abandon my family. I’ll help them out, whatever way I can. I wish I could get them to stop being so negative, but I can’t. I’ve tried my hardest to make them see that the shit they’re in can change to gold in an instant, if only they’d change their attitudes. But… Old habits die hard, I suppose.

I needed to vent in a healthy way, without screaming my anger at them with words I would regret mere seconds once they were out my mouth. Thank God for blogs and journals – the reason I haven’t killed anyone or burst a blood vessel just yet.