TO MY HUSBAND: Life Changes, Love Never Does.

YES, I AM MAKING THIS MY FIRST LITERAL POST. BECAUSE ITS THAT IMPORTANT. 

I lovers you. So much. I need you to know that. To actually feel that, deep down inside. Like you did when we decided to get back together. 

I have taken us ….. all of us, down a kinda fucked up path. 
I know I didn’t do it alone. Others helped. You helped. 
But, my life is not what I want it to be. 
Truth be told, I don’t think a single person in this house, likes thier life. At all. 
That needs to change. 
Unfortunately, the only person I can change, is me. And hopefully, if I do that, and if I say things that need to be said, and I set a better example…… others can find a way to change thier life. 
I’m not talking about leaving, or running away. Or offing myself. Or anything drastic and harmful and ridiculous. I need you to know that too. I need you to understand that I cannot possibly tell you and explain to you everything. 
I will do my best to try and communicate what is going on, verbally, via text, emails, and that’s ALSO what the “Chrys’ Schedule” Calendar is for. 
I have no intention or interest in seeing, finding, or fucking someone else. None. I LOVE YOU AND ONLY YOU. FOREVER. 
Like you said. I have to forgive myself. And trust myself. So, if you really do trust me, like you say, you won’t worry about that. 
I need to say things. That aren’t going to be nice. I’m not saying them to be mean. Or to hurt. I’m saying them because it’s how I feel, what I see, what I think, and someone has to say them. 
I have to stop being scared to be honest, with myself and the people I care about. I need to stop apologizing, and start accepting my part in being wrong. 
But, I have to point out shit to the people I care about too. Because I love you guys. And I’m watching you all going into the fucking garbage disposal that I have been in for a long time. I have so very much work to do on MYSELF. 
I can’t work on you guys. Y’all kinda need to do that for yourselves, mostly. But, you can’t work on shit you are unable to see. As a person who loves y’all, and sees shit, I need to open my mouth and say it. Like “hey. you have a huge booger hanging from your nose, spinach covering your front testh, and earwax coming out your ears more than shrek.”  

It’s not right if I see things and say nothing. But, I have so much shit to work on myself…… that I don’t have the time, or the energy, to make it palatable. I don’t have time to roll up logs of shit in sugar. And it wouldn’t matter if I did. Because shit rolled in sugar, still tastes like shit. 

I also don’t have time to argue about whether or not I am right. If I say something, and you don’t believe it’s true. That’s on you. I’m not perfect. I don’t perceive everything the way others do. I’m an outsider looking in. There’s probably shit I’m wrong about. If I am, just fucking leave it on the floor. 

No matter what I think, or say, I cannot change anyone but me. No one can. So, I’m just gonna say it, and you guys can take it or leave it. 
There is ZERO point in arguing. 
ZERO. IT ACCOMPLISHES NOTHING. 
What might actually accomplish something, is for me to point it out, move on, and work on myself so I can set a better example, as well as be here, more effectively. I am always here, at home. But, that doesn’t mean I’m doing any damn thing with my life. And how can I tell anyone of you, to do something with your life, while I sit here, day after day after day, writhing in my pain, loss, depression, whining about what I can’t do and don’t have and need from others, and wish others would do. 
I have strayed so fucking far from my own beliefs and core values, that I don’t even recognize myself anymore. 
And that isn’t because I am ill. It’s because I have allowed myself to become a fucking victim of my illness. 
I let it take everything from me. Everything except the four people I love most. Who need me. But, what do you guys need me for, what do you need me to do? 
It isn’t about a clean house, or knocking on the bedroom door, or rudeness or disobedience. You guys don’t need me to wipe your asses and run around behind you like a fucking house elf waiting to catch you when you fall, only to completely miss, because I was running behind someone else at the moment. 
No. What you need is to be inspired. You need to be SHOWN, PROVEN, that when you put your mind to something, nothing is going to stand in your way. 
and you need to fucking fall on your own asses, pick your own selves back up, and keep going …….
Instead of me, being all like….. “oh my Baby, come here, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault, let me make it better.” 
FUCK THAT. 
I WANT TO BE A BETTER PARENT THAN OUR PARENTS WERE. I WANT MY KIDS TO HAVE MORE THAN WE HAD. BUT, FOR FUCKS SAKE, WE JUST HAND THEM THE WORLD. 
We take the blame for thier fucking issues. 
We let their issues make their “problems” acceptable. 
And that…… that is the worst thing we could be doing. 

I am not saying that, my kids should have the childhood/teen hood i did. 

NO ONE SHOULD. 
I am saying…… that I lived a life, that made me strong. Powerful. Confident. Yes. I hurt. I had failures. I had crazy shit happen. But, that was the fucking lot I was handed in life. And I dealt with it. There was no one to guide me, help me, pity me. 

I’m glad we are here for our kids. 
But, we are literally fucking them up. 
We have never ever allowed them to: fall without a cushion under thier ass. (Well, except for that once, involving a bicycle and a broken leg.)
To meet a real challenge. 
To experience failure. Which means ……
(omg. My phone just crashed and I thought I lost all of this. I think maybe a good idea, would be, instead of sitting and typing so much, i could possibly start working and audio recording. not dictating, just recording. ……. whoa. Deep thoughts. definitely need a good headset for that though. …….
Anyway. My frikking point is, we haven’t ever let our kids really experience failure. Until they do, success will never mean a damn thing to them. 
I don’t really know how that gets put into action. I just don’t. 
But, I do know one thing. 
Me- sitting here, relying so much on yall, and not stepping up to the goddamn lot I was handed in life…. just withering and whimpering and whining about how I had everything stolen from me…….that’s all they fucking see …….
And that is no way to lead a family, set an example, prove that shit is possible, or that talent and intellect is pointless without action and hard work. 
Babe, I honestly dont know where all this came from. I don’t know what made me open my eyes. I don’t think it was any one thing. I just don’t know. 
I only know that I have a fucking choice. I can stay like this….. or I can do something different. 
I HAVE MADE MY CHOICE. 
It may mean y’all don’t like things, or seem I am really for real, being selfish. I hope that at least you, can see that I am doing what I need to do, that I can become some measure of that girl you once fell head over heels for. 
I don’t know….. if, or how much, I can actually count on you. I’m scared that instead of seeing this for what it is….me choosing to end this, more than a decade long run, of “poor pitiful me” and really getting honest and finding myself again,

….that you will feel, I dunno….. something ELSE. 
Like, neglected, or like I’m pushing you away, or that I’m being selfish, or that I’m not “here” for you and my family, or that I’m more concerned with my own wants and needs than I am with y’alls. 
And if you think those things, or the myriad of other things that I am terrified you will think or feel, it will simply be proof that I was right to be afraid all of this time. 
And it might hinder me, it might crush me, it might even STOP me. But, for you, and for the kids, and even my doggies, I have to try to not let that happen. No matter what you think. 
I even fear…….. losing you. I do. 
And that, and all of those fears, and all of the guilt and all of the “mourning” of what I lost……. is what has held me back. 
It helps greatly, that I found medications and treatments, that I have researched so many things, and found so many resources “for changing my life, having millionaire mornings, and all that shit.” 
ITS ALL FUCKING WORTHLESS IF I DONT USE IT. 
ENOUGH FUCKING RESEARCH. ITS TIME TO WORK. WORK WORK WORK. MOVE. CHALLENGE MYSELF. AND YES, TO FALL, TO FAIL, TO CRASH AND BURN AND CRY. 
I hope that when I do, that I can find solace, shelter, and comfort in your arms. 

But, more than that, I hope that when my tears are dried, and the comforting is over, you don’t tell me “it is okay to quit”. Or that “I am being to hard on myself”. Or “Doing too much.” Or “just not able to do this”. 
I don’t need that from you. 
I need you to remind me, that I am a warrior. 
A princess YES. 

YOUR PRINCESS. Always. 
BUT, YOUR PRINCESS IS A FUCKING FIGHTER. AND YOU NEED TO MAKE SURE I KNOW THAT. EVERY TIME I FALL. OR FEEL LIKE I SHOULD QUIT. OR THAT I SHOULD ACCEPT “MY FATE.” REMIND ME THAT I AM A SURVIVOR, A FITHER, A WARRIOR, AND EVERY SINGKE DAY…… I AM A SUCCESS STORY. 
My FATE? Fate? THIS IS NOT MY FATE!!!!!!
I know it isn’t. How do I know? Because I wake up every single day with the same fucking fire in my heart that I have had, since the earliest time I can remember in my life. 
Because my own mottos and phrases echo in my ears. 

My single solitary desire, for my life, my entire being, I wake up every morning…….. it’s still there. 
But, then…….. I look at myself, I look around me, I wince in pain, and I tell myself…… 
“yeah. So. You forgot again. That part of you is dead. You forgot that your body is useless. You forgot that you are nothing. Go have some coffee and smoke a cigarette and look up some shit, to make yourself THINK, that tomorrow you can change your fate. 
Thinking you can, that will get you through the day, without stabbing yourself in the neck with an ink pen, that you can’t hold to write. It’s a lie. But, you can tell yourself a lie. It will get you through the day.” 
And that fire inside of me, gets a bucket of water dumped on it. Every single day. 
I’m LYING to myself. Daily. To just SURVIVE. 
When, the truth is…..if that part of me was really, truly dead……. I wouldn’t still wake up with it every single day. 
I’m just too afraid. I fear, failing myself, failing my dreams, failing my family, and failing the world around me that could possibly benefit from knowing me. 
I’m afraid. Because I fell, in every way possible. And when I fell, I was sorta on a pretty high horse about myself and my life. So, I hit the ground like humpty dumpty. 
Yeah. All the kings horses and all the kings men……
Fucking, I’ve always wondered, how come the stupid egghead never tried to put himself back together. and no one thought to ask him, “uh. Mr egg, where does this piece go?” 
Damn man. I’ve spent a lot of time writing today. It’s 1pm. And I haven’t done anything else. 
That’s why I’m saying, I don’t have the time…… to explain everything to you. 
Lots of it, I’m gonna need you to take on faith. Without questioning everything. 
I used to be capable of doing shit on my own. I’m never going to be able to do that again, in any amount, if I have to stop my forward momentum and explain shit. 

That is a big part of why I got so damn mad yesterday. Because you could not simply accept that I was doing a certain thing, a certain way, without me having to explain it in detail, argue about what I had said before, what my reasoning was, the necessity of the task, etc. I asked you for physical assistance. Not only did I not get that physical assistance, I didn’t get the opportunity to go at the task by myself. We got into a huge fight, upset Bella, and had a pretty crappy rest of the day. In the end, what I was trying to accomplish, didn’t get done. It didn’t matter why, or how. From my perspective, the only thing that mattered at all, was that I was going to do a task, it was physically, something I needed help with, and I thought that having you in there with me, would help prevent “emotional reactions to other things.” I just wanted to get in, do it, and get out. Without drama. 

You want to know what is going to happen NOW? I’m going to have to go in there, this week, alone, while he is in school and you are at work, to avoid the damned conflict, and accomplish my task. You didn’t change my mind. All you did was upset everyone, hurt my feelings, on several levels, prevent me from accomplishing something that I need to do, and ensure that I don’t have help when I go back to do it. What was the point of all of that? Honest, that is one of the reasons I don’t ask for help from anyone. Just one. It obviously isn’t always that bad. But, it happens. And I don’t like it. So, I do what I can to avoid those conflicts. All because I am trying to do something, and someone else feels like they need to know why? What does it matter? You guys want me to ask for help. I asked for help. Instead of getting it…… look. LOOK at what I received instead. Like I said. I don’t have enough time and energy to explain my every thought process, idea, course of action, plan, or the necessity or purpose of what I am doing. 
What’s really messed up is, I dont like that. I don’t like the thought of going off on my own, and doing anything at all. Not before I explain it, in detail to you, and ask you what you think and examine it from all angles. 
It scares me. Because I don’t like to fuck up, fall down, make mistakes…..but who would I be, if I had lived my whole life…… running everything I did through someone else? Never making mistakes. Never having to fix them. Or try again. 
I would NEVER have been the person you fell in love with. 
I probably wouldn’t have ever met you in the first place. 
It takes time, to research, type up an essay, present it to my husband, wait for it to be edited and sent back, to edit it and resubmit it, multiple times, and get the final word on it……
And what is your typical final word???
It’s something like:
– if that’s what you wanna/think you should/believe it right, do it. 
-I don’t know. I can’t speak for you. 
-only you can make that decision. 
So, literally-

1: I could be writing thesis’. In college. And at least I would get a clear grade. 
2: its actually nonsense and serves no purpose for me to spend the time and effort to do it, only to be told “you have to make the decision.”  
Why do I do it? Because I am afraid. I’m afraid of making the WRONG decision. 
And all that time, that I am researching and writing…… I could be on my fucking feet. 
DOING THE GODDAMNED SHIT I JUST PUT IN THE CALENDAR. 
SMH. FML. IM A DUMMY. 
I obviously still have more to say. 

But, more importantly, I have shit to do. I can write later. Yeah? Yeah. 
Just remember-
I love you. 
I’m not leaving you. 
There is not and will not be anyone else. 
I have to do this. If you search your own heart and mind, you know I do. 
I want your support. I want your comfort. And I want you to dry my tears and then tell me to go again. 
I want your faith in me, and your trust. Because that, that is what I always had before. Your unshakable belief that there is Nothing I Cant Do. 
But, if I have to, I will do this without those things. It will be harder, take longer, and be lonelier. 
The reality is: THIS IS WHO I AM. IM GONNA DIE. IF I DO NOT DO THIS. AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU NEED TO SEE ME, HAVE ME, AT MY BEST. 

FINALLY (for now), 

I have just two more things to say….
The first to drive this shit home. 

The second to get it started. 

The first:
As much as you don’t want to. Lol. 
THINK OF MY MOTHER. 
Friendless, belonging to no one and no place. 

Figuratively, laying in her own bed, the bed she made, and not doing anything about the shit, and piss, she is laying in. 

Believing that LIFE SUCKS AND LIFE SHIT ON HER AND PEOPLE HAVE PISSED ON HER. AND WAITING FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO COME AND CLEAN HER UP AND LIVE HER LIFE FOR HER. 

Poor, sad, miserable, lonely, mistreated, used, taken for granted Eliesa. No one loves her or cares about her. 
I am headed down that same fucking road. Right now, the only difference between her and me, is that I am not a bitch. Not the kind she is  

I refuse to use others and hurt others just to make me feel better. 

I refuse to stomp on other people because I think that’s the only way to have anything. That’s the ONLY DIFFERENCE. 

I WILL NOT HAVE THAT BULLSHIT. 
IM FUCKING BETTER THAN HER. 
Maybe, just maybe, that is the reason I felt that I had to let her back into my life. 
Maybe I was so fucked up, that I put myself in her shoes. and I thought, “What if MY husbnad and children, leave me to rot in my disabled life. I wouldn’t want that done to me.” So, I let her back in. 
Maybe that was less me, and more the universe. Maybe I HAD TO LET HER IN, to see who she has become, and what she is, and what she is doing. So, I could recognize it, in myself. TO BE REMINDED IN A WAY I SIMPLY COULD NOT IGNORE. 
My mother wears a size 5.5 shoe. She isn’t even 5″ tall. 

She thinks she is so fucking smart. But, she’s a damned idiot.

Her hair is thinning and falling out. 

She has the nerve to judge others, while being too afraid to even try to sell one goddamn shawl. 

She has the things she needs to change her life. But, she chooses, to play martyr. 
She is too small, in body, in heart, in mind, and soul, to do what she needs to,

To have a life she can at least tolerate. 
And I will grant, she has had some shit piles dumped on her life, repeatedly. Maybe because the universe is trying to tell her something to. “Like, you haven’t learned yet, sigh. I’m running out of “lesson shit” for other people. But, here’s another one.” 
But, guess what? Me and You, have had lots of shit piles dumped on us, too. 
I outgrew her shoes at 13. 

At 15, I was taller than her. 

At 20, I realized I didn’t really know shit. (Too bad I thought she had answers. That was a mistake.) 

I have more common sense than three of her put together. 

I have a full head of hair, and it’s gorgeous. 

I don’t judge others, because I don’t want be judged. 

I’m not afraid to try. Correction: I’m terrified to try, but I’m not gonna let that fear stop me like it stops her. 

Because, in every way, shape, form, I am bigger, stronger, fiercer, and better, smarter, kinder, then she ever was and than she will ever be. 
I don’t even know why my dad loved her. Maybe earlier in her life, she was more like me. 

Maybe he kept hoping, that she would change back into that person. 

It’s unfortunate that he only had roughly a decade with her. 
Maybe his strength, his believe in her, his love for her, would’ve given her courage to push her forward. But we’ll never know.

What I do know, is that I have had YOU for twice as long as she had him.
You love me, and believe in me, the way he believed in her and loved her. 

So, I’m going to use that, as much of it as I can get out of you, to give me courage. 

I need courage. I need everything I can get from you, to not be afraid anymore. So that I don’t end up just like her.
The second (and last thing I have to say right now.)
Since I’ve gotten sick, I’ve said many times, that I never expected things to be this way. I’ve morosely jokes, that it looks like we got it all wrong.
That it was good going to be you changing my bed pan instead of the other way around. 

I have decided, I’m not ready to except THAT. 
We said HOW IT WOULD BE, before we were ever married. And I’ll be damned if I get to the bedpan before you. (At least, not without putting up a fight, all the fight I have in me.)
So, right here, right now:
I take off my gloves, AND slap your face with them, AND throw them on the ground AND bend you over AND SHOVE this nerbil and gunk straight up your skasktank, AND I’m putting you on a biscuit…..(cuz I got a handicap and I need a head start)…… and …….
I CHALLENGE YOU. 
THE CHALLENGE???
Who can avoid the bed pan longer!!!!! 

READY??? 
❤️ONE

💛TWO
💚THREE

(Wtf??? I can’t find the gun or the crossed checkered racing flags emojis. And I haven’t updated yet!!!)
🙀

👀

Fuck it…..👖 I pants’d you. 

😘💋

💃🏻💃🏻💃🏻

Oops. Wrong way!!!!

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

(Get it? I’m running backwards….. AWAY FROM THE BEDPAN.)

Oh but. FIRST LET ME:
💡🔦🕯TURN YOU 🔛 

and LEMME 🤳🏻 TAKE A SELFIE. 

GO….

PS- It changed a bunch of my formatting. #LearningWordPress