A blog about nothing

It's been two weeks since I updated, and things are more or less static. Still out of work, but I've got more applications in. Still sleeping on my parents couch. Still don't have a license. Still don't have my girls. Still don't have a relationship... Haven't talked to my friends, other than random messages on FB, in a while... Brad's party I think was the last time, and that was Labor Day. Still not sure why I'm still here.

I hate this. I hate having lost every single thing in my life that made it worthwhile.

Years ago, a friend asked me what I would grab if a fire was destroying my house. My answer was my children, and he asked about necessities, important documents, clothing, food supplies. And I replied that all of that could be replaced, or were simply material possessions, and not that important. Some would have varying degrees of difficulty to replace, but it could be done. Family was the important and irreplaceable piece of the puzzle. He looked at me oddly and said I was a very eclectic person. It's true. But that's not really relevant.

The thing that hurts me the most, is not all that I've lost, but that I've lost all. The irreplaceable part of my life was wrenched from me 2 1/2 months ago. I wasn't there for Erilyn's 8th birthday, or her appendix having to be removed 2 days later. I'm not there for them at all.

When my ex-wife and I separated, there were 3-4 weeks when I didn't see my girls, till now, that had been the worst time of my life. At great personal expense, that made sure I couldn't pay other bills and expenses, I got them enrolled in daycare, so that I could see them for a few minutes every single weekday. Later, when the temporary custody order got hammered out I kept them in daycare because seeing them every Wednesday and every other weekend was not and could never be enough for me. I love my little ladies, and there is no pain greater than being apart from them.

A friend observing them over several months, and years was amazed at how I took 3 ill-mannered, brutish, undisciplined monsters and turned them into functioning, thriving, young ladies. A change he had thought impossible. And now they're back with the woman who had made them what they were, and who will destroy their lives and futures.

And I don't care enough to care. Everything that was ripped away from me beat me down and made me miserable, but I could smile, and work towards a light in the tunnel, for my girls. I had a reason, and a purpose to exist. July 12th, one week after I turned 30, when everything good in my life disappeared, I was arrested and sent to jail for 4 days in lieu of $1500+ of traffic fines (my vehicle was still impounded, and I still lost my Drivers License for close to a year and a half), I also lost my slot in a shelter, which would have kept us off the street and provided some stability, but the worst, was that children and youth took my children from me, with me in tears, them confused, and scared, and I knew that everything worthwhile in my life was leaving in the car with them. If I think about it, I hurt and ache in ways that are unimaginable if you haven't been in the same situation. I can't explain it better than I have above, I need my kids. Mrs. Doubtfire seems like a totally reasonable and rational solution, because I need my kids, and I can understand how Robin Williams' character felt. Never being absent from their lives for a single day, to never, or rarely seeing them is a pain unfathomable to others outside the situation.

I try my best to ignore it. I shut myself off. I disappear into my computer, or a book, or a movie, or whatever other distraction I can muster, because I can't deal with my life. It's too much, and it hurts too damn much. I talked to the girls on Erilyn's birthday, and to Erilyn the day her appendix was removed, and one other day. That's it. 3 times in 2 1/2 months. And I walk around stores finding myself looking at/for things they would enjoy, because I'm totally wrapped around their fingers and spoil them ridiculously. And every time I do, I catch myself and have to remind myself that, no, you can't. They aren't yours anymore. The 3 people I built my life around are gone, and I don't think I'll ever see them again.

I may meet Erilyn, Carol, and Brenna again, but not until after my ex has warped them from who and what they are/were. They won't be "my girls" anymore.

I try to ignore the pain. But it's there, waiting and lurking, and I wonder, why in the fucking hell did I have to puke up the sleeping pills and tylenol. Why couldn't I have just drifted off blissfully instead of having to bear the twisting of the knife. The pain doesn't get easier to bear, I don't get comfort from anything. I'm angry. I'm hurt. I'm empty inside. And I don't want to feel anything. Ever again.