Frying Pan - Meet Inferno (October 2016)

I did not think I would finish loading the POD on time, yet I did. It was rough physically and emotionally. Physically for obvious reasons, and emotionally because I had always had just a teensy bit of hope that that would be the place where Henry would come home to me and also because I have now completely severed all ties with the HCA Town. As I took one last look around before I closed the door to Apartment 97 on Thursday - the feelings were indescribable yet overwhelming.

And then, on Friday night, my stepbrother and I got into a major disagreement (read: very loud argument) about how people need to leave the past in the past and just move on and quit dwelling on all the stuff that's happened; just let it go. I tried (unsuccessfully) to explain to him how I was not the type of person that could do that. I just couldn't.

The whole thing started when I told him I would like to hurt my brother and slap my mother and everything he said after that sounded like he was defending the both of them.  Those weren't even the worst of the words he hurled at me.  (Of course  by this time I am already sobbing and ready to slit my wrists because it was just one more time in my life where I felt so fucking alone, unwanted and unnecessary and I had literally NO place to go. My back was in the corner and I had no idea how to even claw my way out because he brought out the big guns, so to speak, and that crippled me then and there.

Jack, my step brother, told me I needed to get off all this med shit because that is what was doing this to me. (This came after he smoked marijuana.)  He walked into another room when he said it and I dropped trou and yelled at him to come back and look. I asked him several times to look and several times, from a different room in the house he said "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

I continued yelling - almost screaming - even louder, "Jack, I'm serious COME AND FUCKING LOOK AT THIS!" I showed him the healing cuts on my right upper thigh and the healing marks on my left forearm. "THIS IS WHY I NEED THE MEDS I TAKE. THE MEDS ARE THE ONLY FUCKING THING KEEPING ME ALIVE."

I hate my life.

P.S. I did not self-harm after that. I promise. I thought very seriously about it - especially when I had an extremely sharp boning knife in my hand - yet I didn't do it.