APRIL 19, 2009: “Circadian” …

IMG_E9475{Artwork by The Phoenix Collaborative}

It was a Sunday afternoon; He and I had been separated again for some time and I’d been living at my parents’ house which was right down street from what used to be my house but is still His. I’d been out running errands and had gone to the gym when I pulled into my parents’ driveway around 5pm to eat dinner with them. When dinner was over, I walked out to my car, opened the door and found this envelope taped to my steering wheel. “The Letter” from my father that changed everything! It was his way of urging me to “do the right thing” and go home via these “Pros and Cons” which were nothing short of emotional abuse, blackmail and toxic parental extortion:


IMG_8312So then maybe I should have named my Diary entry THIS:

APRIL 16, 2009: “Are You Fucking KIDDING Me Right Now … My Life Is A Farce … HAVEN’T YOU HEARD A THING I’VE SAID … My Marriage Is Toxic And I’ve Been Trying To Tell You For Years … All We DO Is Fight … All We HAVE Is Tension … We Are ONLY Roommates And It’s Been That Way From The Start … I Don’t Think We’re In REAL LOVE And I’m Pretty Sure We Never Have Been … We Only Got Married Because You MADE US And I WASN’T EVEN PREGNANT … I’ve Been TRYING To Repair The Damage For Years And Have Literally Begged Him On My Hands And Knees To HELP ME WORK THINGS OUT But … He Doesn’t Want To Leave His Theatre Room … He Won’t TALK To Me … He Is NOT Taking Care Of My Heart OR My Soul … He Has NOT Been Looking Out For Me … We Abuse EACH OTHER Daily … He Won’t Release Me From The Past … He Holds My Mistakes Over My Head … OMG I THINK I ACTUALLY MARRIED YOU … My Son Is ALSO Being Verbally Abused And EMASCULATED … In That VERY Nice House … I Can’t See My Reflection In A Mirror … I’m Afraid I’m Going To Give My Daughter An Eating Disorder … Oh Yah – I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER … There’s A Dragon AND A Black Spider-Man Suit That Are Both Attempting To Murder Me … All I Do Is Cry … HOW CAN I CONCENTRATE ON GETTING MY LIFE BACK ON TRACK WHEN I LITERALLY NEVER SLEEP … I’ve Only Been Pretending To Be Happy So Everyone ELSE Could Be Happy And NOT Go To THEIR Graves With Unrest … All The Nice Things That I Buy When I Go Shopping In That Very Nice Car With My Credit Card Aren’t Fixing Me AT ALL … I HAVE NEVER BEEN FREE TO DO WHAT I WANT … I’ve Been Praying For A Bus To Run Me Over … It’s Not Just Your DEAR Wife And My Kids Who Fucking Need You … GOD Forbid Anything Happens To MOM? … Yah, And GOD Forbid Anything Happens To ME … Because MY KIDS ARE WATCHING EVERYTHING AND MY GREATEST FEAR OF ALL IS THAT I’M LOSING THEM ALREADY AND THAT THEY WILL NOT LIKE ME ANYMORE!”

After reading the letter I ended up driving to His house for a what I thought would be just a few minutes because in that moment I just desperately wanted to see my kids. I’d been standing out front waiting for them to come out because I didn’t want to go back in that house and the whole time I was standing there I just knew that something was coming, under my skin and into my bones. I couldn’t really breathe, and I could feel my adrenaline starting to dump – I was crumbling. Literally. Crumbling. So, when I looked up to see my babies finally come out the front door? I was done. I finally had the full-blown nervous breakdown I’d fighting SO hard not to have for way too many years. I’m absolutely certain that there were Angels there with me and both my children and if it is true that “Angels cry” then they had to be crying their eyes out as they witnessed the tragedy that was happening on that driveway. They literally had to peel my son from my body so that I could get into the car. He too was sobbing, and I’d never seen him cry so much or so hard. And Gia? She looked so lost, like a little puppy that just wanted someone to pick her up and hold her. Fuck. WHAT THE HELL HAD I DONE AND HOW DID IT COME TO THIS? I’ve actually gone insane!

By 9pm that night I was on an plane to The Meadows in Wickenburg, Arizona and got to the facility at just before midnight. I was SUCH a fucking mental meatloaf by the time I’d finally arrived that the intake doctor that was on call that night made the decision to very heavily medicate me as soon as I was “processed”. I slept so long and so hard that I wasn’t even assimilated into the “general campus population” for more than 72 hours. My toxic childhood and the ensuing fallout from my completely self-sabotaged adulthood had won their final round in the circadian that had become my existence and I was both mentally and physically EXHAUSTED. Vanquished. Spent. Broken. DONE.


“Who’s to say we’ll make it through? Starting to believe that what we think is never true. And who’s to say the rhymes beside your bed will keep you warm when everything is getting colder? And I’m just holding on until it’s over. Mayday! Somebody save me now. I’m closing my eyes ’cause once the sun rises it’s out of my hands. It’s out of my hands. Who’s to say this history isn’t only just some winter’s distant memory? You can’t escape this drying ink. The fall of who we are is getting closer and I’m just holding on until it’s over. Mayday! Somebody save me now. I’m cutting all ties from the world outside ’cause it’s over my head. It’s all coming undone and falling apart somehow. I’m closing my eyes ’cause once the sun rises it’s out of my hands. Oh it’s out of my hands. The light pulls me under and I keep on caving in.” – David Cook



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