Is how I have just realized I feel, my son’s death, my alcoholic husband, my 19 year old son who tries he really does try but he is 19. I had my son at 19, thinking back I thought I was so grown up, found myself thinking why isn’t he more grown-up like I was? Well after some thought I was not all that grown up.

I realize now part of this is not standing up for me, which I have had a problem with all my life, not the best self esteem when you grow up poor, when people laugh at you and you begin to believe they must be right hell they are rich, right?

I carried this through the death of my first son after all everyone else who had twins didn’t let one die, yes I know that is not “right” thinking but it was how I felt at that time, sometimes still feel.

The first failed marriage, the job, which I still have but run now, where I was treated like nothing more than a slave but I was to much of a coward to stand up to them and just hung my head and showed them I could do anything they asked, doing permanent damage to my neck in the process.

I outstayed them, through perseverance not luck, not because I was poor, that did help keep me there a mile from my home able to walk when someone else needed our one car, but because I was not going to let them beat me down, I may have been poor but they didn’t realize I was also pretty damn smart. 

Now so done with the second husband, the mouth, and told him so last night, he shows no compassion, no caring except for the time I called to tell him my son had died and broke down sobbing on the phone that man cared, but he is not that man most days and expects to much using himself as being crippled (which he is not) as an excuse to be an asshole to be so needy. I told him  last night I can live back in my bedroom which I call my apartment but he needs to leave me alone and if he doesn’t screw the life insurance, screw loosing everything by selling a house I love, screw him I am done.

I realized this morning walking in the door at work I sing this silly song and act like a Snuffleupagus using my fat as a kind of wave back and forth (no I am not THAT fat it is a feeling more than an actual doing) and I saw it was an act of being defeated like I give up, I’m fat, my children die, I can’t hold a marriage together and I am a failure….BUT I’m not, I have wonderful children still alive, a beautiful granddaughter and a loving support group of siblings.

I am the problem; I need to accept that I can ask for help I don’t need be a martyr, that it is a waste of time to bitch of things when you are doing nothing to change why you are bitching. 

I know I am still grieving I am not running away from that as it is a very large part of my life at this time but I am going to do my best to hold my head a bit higher, stand a bit taller, ask for help when I need it and finally accept that I have not fooled all of you here, that I really am the woman you all see me as.

I like her and I think she will be okay in the long run, a mix of the poor girl, the broken wife, the abused worker, the loving mother and sister, she is all me and I think I like her.

I feel this will all work out well in the end and if I have to wait a bit longer to get that life insurance I can, if I have to wait just a bit longer to not work as hard in the kitchen at work I can.

The view I see this morning is not one of being defeated after all, but one of hope, I know, about damn time right?