Diary of a Mad Woman Gone Sane

Hello friends and family. Recently I heard a song about the struggle of being a man. Oddly enough, I identified with the song. I will never know what it is to be a man, but I do know what it's like to be the one who is holding everything together. Feeling like you cannot fail. It made me think back to the years of being the breadwinner. Joe wasn't able to work in his last 7 or 8 years of his life. This meant that it all fell on me to provide. I would work 2 jobs to make it work. I had to ask my parents for money. My son and husband were never hungry, homeless, without power or water. We lived in decent places, in decent neighborhoods. Our son went to charter school until junior high. I did my best to provide. Our son got most of the toys he wanted, and Joe and I had some nice stuff too. I stretched myself and my body as far as I could. I was ridiculed for not being home and raising my son. Joe became a stay at home dad and did as much as he could to help. He was embarrassed tha

Recently it was brought to my attention that I am High Functioning. What does that mean exactly? It means that in spite of multiple traumas that caused complex PTSD, in spite of abusive relationships, in spite of watching my parents, and other adults, make bad choices, in spite of substance abuse, I have been successful in appearing "normal". I have adapted to survive in the world. I navigated around my physical and emotional difficulties for decades.  Because of my physical limitations, I've altered the way I do everything, and the jobs I would apply for, when I was still working. I couldn't take physically taxing jobs and I couldn't be away from home. I do things differently living off grid, because everything is heavy and clumsy. The thought of getting hurt out here is a bit daunting. The ambulance won't drive to my house.  I also do this with my mental health. I pretended for most of my life that I was completely fine. I was told that I have PT

Another post, yay! Since Joe died I've had to become better at boundaries, setting and holding them. Joe and I were good at knowing each other's boundaries, and not stepping over them. Of course, unfortunately, most people are not like that. I'm a woman and a widow, and I'm not grand in stature. Three things that aren't in my favor when it comes to gaining respect, especially from men. I've had to give up friendships, because they couldn't respect my boundaries. I've distanced myself from friends and family who weren't willing to be civil. My boundaries have changed. I've been hypervigilant my entire life, but now it is even more  important to maintain my boundaries. To keep my peace and home protected, I must not allow certain people and certain behaviors to take place around me. I've earned this life, so I have to fight for it. Setting and holding boundaries takes practice, but I'm worthy of respect. I've always been a p

Hello, friends. I apologize for being so late in posting. Life has been crazy, per usual, and winter is once again here. I hope you are all well. Recently I celebrated my 51st birthday.  While I'm so grateful to be blessed with each day, birthdays are different now, and I miss my person extra. Here is something that came to mind. Something happened when Joe died, I became homeless. I still had a roof over my head, but I no longer had a home. He had been my home. Who was I without him? I no longer knew. He had been my world, and suddenly my world imploded. He has been gone almost 7 years, and I am still angry and sad. Angry at myself for not being able to prevent his death, and angry at him for abandoning us, and angry at the planet for not noticing that he wasn't there anymore. I have built a brand new life, but I can still feel the gaping hole that he resided in. I have tried to fill it with people, alcohol, distractions. Nothing has been successful. I am trying not to dread t