Stranded in January

How am I supposed to feel?

Can someone show me how I'm supposed to feel?

It's been a slow tug-of-war, a stop-start push with minimal reward 

The story runs long, spans many chapters but poetically, it might end tragically on Valentine's day.

It's where it officially picked up, started the serialization. 

Love began back in November of 2022, it's barely 2024 and I so desperately want my life back.

I want my brain back, I want my heart back. I want someone to get myself back on track. 

Last year was too much, last year was too overwhelming.

Last year wasn't me going at it alone, but it was making me crazy

I went from solely taking care of myself to moving in with a girlfriend I only knew for 4 months, after we already had nearly splitting up disagreements.

I don't run when things get hard but I do go when things get unbearable. This year has been a series of unbearable events. 

She told me to look on the bright side when the bright side always got eaten alive by storm clouds.

She said I can't take responsibility for my actions but wait a day, and she'll take back every mean thing she said. 

Don't get me wrong, I won't disparage anyone's name.

It's not my place, it takes two to tango and I had my dancing shoes on since ironically last January. I'm no Saint in this, I lack etiquette. 

I'm no Saint in this, I made my mistakes. Laid in my mess, waiting for the bomb to drop. Always in the wings to pack up my stuff and leave.

She's been through some traumatic things, made it out alive. Surviving through the night to get hit by more traumatic things and I, the first relationship back into normalcy havent made things easy. According to her, I ruin everything.

I haven't made it through life unscathed myself. I have my own chaos, my own disasters, my own hangs up, my own trauma but I made it through life relatively squeaky clean. Some blemishes here and there don't mean anything

But in this poetic mess, I guess I'm a stain. She's porcelain stain in the church window frame. At least when we're in fights, that's how it's portrayed. That I'm such a mental abuser when I can't really bring to light difficult topics. I don't want to hurt feelings but I don't want to feel trapped in a box my whole life

This apartment feels like a jail cell sometimes. Been here a year, have yet to make friends. All our promises, all my friends promises were burnt out by March, none coming to fruition.

Burnt out the last of my cash to get the apartment, to then rely on a stranger I recently just became acquainted with was already embarrassing. 

Depression swallowed me like the whale that ate Jonah

Anxiety was the hypothermia that kept surrounding me

In the belly of the beast, I was already freezing

I would get lifelines here and there but my bank account was always draining

Then our days alone would be so stifling

Filled with kids and arguments

Unwanted visitors with good intents

Excuses and laments

I went from boyfriend to step-dad way too fast

I've been around kids for sure, I grew up in daycares until I was in 6th grade 

But as an adult, I was never a father figure

I was never anything but a big brother 

Thrust into this role, I didn't know how to behave

I took a non aggressive approach, tried to talk things out

Explain that I don't have the power to do anything except talk

Yet that even with them having the gift of speech; it's still cry, it's still fits and that's what kept driving me insane. 

They moved in as well in this tiny one bed room apartment. 

Now there's nowhere to run, nowhere to find somewhere to relax in

I mean it was no surprise, they were a package deal

I knew they were included but I was so under sold on how difficult this would be

With another dlc on the way, yeah it was news to me too

But back in March, I received the news that I was going to be dad

I had no room to be glad, every month another disaster

We can't make rent, running out of food; I lost my job, trading out sicknesses like prescriptions, storms rolling in so bad that they knock the power out for 2 weeks, electric bill so high we can barely afford it

Now jobless, raising two child strangers alone while their mother works

Depressed and at my wits end, maybe we'll get along

No, they'll just fight and throw more fits 

Talking to them doesn't work, they'll ignore me

Screaming they'll respond to but that simply tells them they're in trouble

Time outs have always been dumb to me, they'll sit there and then throw another fit. When they finally get up, they'll just go back and do the same thing

Raising kids are rewarding they say, meanwhile it's one of the biggest reasons I refuse to stay

This has been too much on me, yet I'm being called a coward for wanting to get away

I'm not sticking it out for it to get better once and then back like it has been before 

There's no room in this relationship for everyone to get the attention they deserve

The adults have to work but while we are stuck in the house, it's always kid'o clock

Add in the fact that there's also a cat

There's no room for anything else 

So now there's a newborn, a cat, two toddlers, a post partem depressed girlfriend and me, who's not all here

This is not a stable environment for anybody 

And no matter how much I explain it, how much I explain how miserable this is, I'm met with I'm the coward, that I should want to stay because of how loyal she's been to me, because of the baby, yet they aren't here for the in-between. 

I've been jobless half the time I've been here, this place being small and fragile helps nothing. If we had a bigger place, half our problems would go away. But instead I'm raising my voice over stomping and yelling, I'm raising the hammer for running and jumping, cries over being told no. 

I'm pulling out my hair for being told I'm not meeting someone else's needs, for being told I'm triggering they're trauma, I'm their ex's second wave, I'm their misery plain as day yet they want me to save the day and stay. Stay for what, I don't know. This is unbearable.

I've called my folks to leave, after the last two fights but it's been such a start-stop fiasco I might as well just walk out in freezing weather and decompose on the side of the road. 

Weather is abysmal, keeping me trapped here for way too long

Always a storm or sub below temps 

I guess I'm selfish in this regard, I'm not really focused on anything except being gone

She'll blame herself until she's blue in the face but we've had enough fights to know she really blames me

We've had enough fights and I've tried to say enough times that this is too much and I need to go

She roped me back in because this means a lot, we do have a child, she can't do this alone but I don't have the enough experience, I don't have the growth to keep doing this 

Not with my mental health this way

I know what this means if I leave but I keep getting met with assumptions about how I feel

I keep getting met with "walk in my shoes"

I'm an empath, a future seeker

I know how it feels, I'm not smiling about it

I'm not thrilled about it

I didn't come here to bail out

I wanted a family, I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere

I wanted love, it's what I came for

And I get people fight, I didn't expect a perfect life

But all these things back to back

Being on the low end of the totem pole 

I need to start over from zero before I lose anymore 

We are not good for each other, at least not right now

She can hate me for my whole life, it's what I deserve anyhow

I'm not trying to leave her alone or without any help

But I can't do anything here, jobless and in debt

I'd rather pay child support or help find a new place

Than keep living her son's bed, my new hideaway place

If all I am is a trigger, then I'd rather go away 

Long ago, I was superman and this year, I retired the cape

This is jumbled mess but I needed the thoughts down 

In a pool of sweat and tears, I would've surely drowned

I may be the villain in this story, I hate making people sad

I hate being the source of misery and I hate that I can never say for my life accurately what I want to get out 

I have a mental block somewhere and it won't get out 

If I didn't have a disorder before I probably do now

I need some time for myself, though sometimes I wish I was 6 feet underground