Well it's Valentine's Day, and well...here I am. In my small room, Eleanor sitting on the pillow behind me. The wind outside is blowing at 30 miles per hour, and my window has a leak, so my door keeps opening and closing. It must be the way the air flows in my room, when the winds blow at a certain speed, in a certain direction that makes my room wind tunnel. The temperature outside is in the low 80's, but with the winds it feels like a cool 70 to me.
Taking Elle outside for her morning walk, in this wind is hard to do. All she wants to do, is shit, and pee, and go back inside. She hates the wind blowing in her face, and ears. If I try to walk her any further after she has finished her business, she refuses to walk, and I have to carry her, blocking the wind with my sweater. Yes, I wear a sweater, with buttons and everything, I even now have the eye glasses on a chain around my neck, so when I take Elle out for a walk I look like a mad scientist. The reason I look mad is because I haven't showered in three days, or bushed my hair in three days, so my mane is a mess. I like it that way. When my hair gets too heavy, which does happens because its getting really long again, and it's ungodly thick, and curly, I have to put my hair in a pony tail( I never understood why they call it a pony tail) and then I twist it around and wrap it up and put clips in it to keep it on the top of my head, where it doesn't fall in my face, or make me itch while writing or reading.
This is what I'm writing about...come on Anna!
I'm sorry people, I've become so apathetic that its really starting to cause my parents a great amount of grief. I've no become uncaring that they want me to go back to Wisconsin, and if I don't have a plan for Washington by August that I'm going to be trapped in a place I don't want to be, and I've come to the conclusion, that if this forcing of me to move with my parents to Wisconsin were to take place, that I would indeed take my own life. Not to punish my parents. It is no way their fault, it is my own, for not planning things out, and getting shit in order. It is my fault if I were not to be accepted to any schools in the Washington Seattle area, (why I capitalized Seattle, and not Washington is beyond me.
This move is going to be a huge turning point, either way. Washington, Wisconsin. Either way something is going to happen. Something is going to change, and really the only thing I care about is Eleanor. I feel I can't take her away from my parents, even tho she is my dog, and I love her and take of her, she still loves my mom and dad...trusts my parents more than me. I've been selfish with Elle, and I've moved her around alot. After me and Pete broke up, we had split custody of Elle. I was homeless, so she stayed with Pete most of the time. Even thinking about leaving her with Pete at Pete's dad's house where she wasn't loved or taken care of, I feel my heart break into little bits. Which in turn makes me want to move to Washington, fuck school, and get hooked on, and strung out again on Heroin. Too much guilt is inside me. That of pawning Elle off, when I knew that she hated to be away from me. ( She will not let anyone, but me, mom, dad, and Debbie my aunt touch her) unless she is being held by one of us, then she will let a unknown person pet her head or something, but not for long.
I know that, like my parents, Elle wants all three of us too stick together, and fuck if that is to be possible, I would need assurance that I can stay on Methadone, at any dosage I want. That I can get a doctor to prescribe me Xanax, or that I get off the Methadone, and my dad lets me take his Percocets.
I'm going to be as honest as it gets right here. I only wake up each day to see Eleanor, to be with my parents(even tho they annoy the living fuck out of me), and to get my methadone dose.
Methadone comes first in the order, then Elle, and then mom and dad.
If I were to die, I'd leave Elle in good hands with my parents. I'd ask my parents in my suicide note to take care of Eleanor, not to follow me, for it will be like having your blood on my hands, and leaving Eleanor with no one she trusts to take care of her. Many parents have gone on after losing both children.
I know after I'm dead, my parents will say, we should have just let her have her opiates, just kept her happy, and let her live, but while I'm alive, they will not give up hope that suddenly I will change into this perfect daughter, who marries a handsome hardworking man, and has 2.5 children. Me raising the children, while my husband is off at his job where he makes a million dollars a year, and I stay at home with his children, taking care of them, teaching them, and writing my books.
All I can see when I think of this life, is Sylvia Plath's head in the oven, Virgina Wolfe's dead body floating down the river she drown herself in.
Is it really so selfish to take my own life. I have no children whom I will be hurting, no children growing up without a mother. After I die, my parents probably have 30 or 40 years left in them, and they can live on without me.
Actually, I know if I killed myself, my dad would for sure kill himself, even if in my suicide note I begged and pleaded with him not to follow me. It would be my mother who would learn to live on without us. I just hope and pray that she takes care of Eleanor. If not, and I can become a ghost, (they say dogs can see ghost's), I will stay here and make sure Elle is taken care of.
Then I wonder...would it be easier for me, if I just took Eleanor with me. If she and I died at the same time. Then I'd only have my parents to worry about, and they've already live a full life. I've become very close with my mother and father. Much closer than most 26 year old children are with their parents. I feel as tho I give them purpose to go on. I'm their reason to live.
I often wish, that after Angie died, and my dad wanted to kill us, and himself, if I would have better off.
Whatever reason I'm being kept alive, even after knowingly injecting HIV+ blood into my veins, three times, with three different syringes full of the HIV+ blood. I did this 4 years ago now, and still every three months I get tested for HIV it comes back non reactive. Even my Hep C has no viral load, which means, my immune system fought it off, and I have no viral load, and am not contagious. No matter how many hundreds of Aspirin I take, I wake up in a hospital bed. My body just will not give out on me. No matter how much I want it too. Every day I play Russian Ru-let with my life, taking so many Xanax and other benzo's with my high dose of methadone. Still my body takes the beating, and my heart keeps on ticking.
Now that my body is aging, I'm hoping that easier it will be to "accidentally" take too much Heroin one day.
I have a suicide note already written in case that were to ever happen. Its more of an apology note to my parents, and friends, and extended family. I explain to them, the emotional pain I'm in everyday. I explain that its my own fault for being so apathetic, and careless. That I love them more than any person can love another, and that I hope and pray that go on without me.
I explain that I want to be cremated, I do not want to be embalmed and put in some casket delaying the natural process of decaying. I want my ashes spread in four different places...the places I was happiest, my house at 453 Sherman St., and in the yard of the house we lived at in Gillett on the corner of Degantown Rd. and Rose Rd., and in the yard of the house we lived in, in Sampson WI, on Sigler Road., and lastly on the family plot where Angie, is buried, and where my mom and dad will be buried.
All those places I have the fondest memories of my childhood. Even tho some were mixed with some of the worst emotional losses I've ever had, still the life, and love we lived in those homes was something I hold dear. Its wear I want my ashes to be spread.
Oh yes, btw I don't think my Bi Polar meds are working at all. I thought so at first, but I was in a manic state, and I love being in a manic state, but lately I've felt myself slipping...deeper, and deeper into a depression so black, I feel as tho I may never recover.