Everything I wish I could say

I can't stop being the same damn person, playing the same damn role, becoming the same wounded and baffled idiot that shows up for the same gutting by those I love the most. And I do it in every type of relationship. Regardless of the toll it takes on my mind, body, and spirit. Despite how many times I have told myself and the friend or family member, that I am setting healthy boundaries from this moment forward. I will love myself the way I should be loved, even if nobody else does. I won't "let it go" one more time. Will not wipe the slate clean, hit reset again and again every few days or weeks for another year or decade. I am all out of nice, and they have no choice but to take me seriously, because I have evolved. I am not the same naive, trusting, hopeful, loyal pushover anymore. I have said all of this to myself and others. I believed myself with conviction. I am the only one who does tho. You all know better. That is why I am a 51 yoa hollow, broke and broken, lonely, depressed, angry, sad, rapidly aging, jobless, scared, exhausted, worthless and hopeless feeling pushover living in an apt with my sister, basically renting a room because nothing in the apt is mine. Nothing even says, Tricia lives here. This or that is Tricia. My bedroom door doesn't latch, I have no pictures of my son or other family outside of my sister's kids and grandkids, I'm sleeping on a mattress that feels like a cardboard box, using Jess' old dressers, cooking with her and her families dishes, 24/7 tv blaring, and the overwhelming smell of pot choking me. I sound like a total *****, even to myself, but that is not my intention at all. I love my sister, I like her choices for how she has her place because it is her and who she is and what she likes. Like myself, her homes and lifestyle has been the same in most areas for the majority of her adulthood. Her and Al have always been the 24/7 tv on kind of family. They are fine yelling over it, having it on in the background if they are doing other things, have company over, eating dinner, sleeping, or watching it. Pretty common in a lot of homes. I just am not one that ever has, and it is distracting, overstimulating, makes it hard for me to focus on conversations or relax. Not better or worse, just different. It makes me feel very chaotic and irritable tho, so it's hard for me. I like my home place organized and my level of comfort depends a lot on knowing where things are and it's important to me that the things I have, like furniture, electronics, kitchen ****, are taken care of and kept clean. Also sounds bitchy and snobby even, but it isn't coming from a bitchy snobby place. It comes from Mamie and my Mom. They instilled this in me from a young age. Things don't come easy, and if we work to have something, or even more importantly, if someone has gifted or passed things down to us, we should be grateful and thankful, therefore take care of what we have. My Mom's family, all generations, grew up poor. Struggled to feed their kids, clothe them, never had much, and often didn't even have enough, so taking care of what they had, was important. Treating others belongings and property was an absolute must. That is why it is important to me. So that is hard for me as well. Feeling like I have done nothing but go backward since my divorce, and at my age, I have less, live worse, my life is chaos and not my own, is embarrassing. Completely humiliating. Depressing. I'm ashamed of my life and have literally nothing to show for the decades of hard work I put into my family and future. A future that would never have me be any kind of burden to my kids, Mother, sisters, friends, society. A future that ensured I was someone that others could count on when they needed a place to relax, heal from life or injury, be for holidays, count on as a safe place, feel welcome, just know I would be there. My home and family were just that. A home and family and always would be. Now I have none of that, and the worst part of that is I DON"T have the one thing that was always the THAT ONE THING most important to me and that I would make sure I made happen and had in my life when I grew up. AND DAMNIT I DID WHAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO for that to happen.. A safe secure forever home and family. I have no home for my son to always know anytime, for whatever reason or no reason, for however long, no matter what, he can come home. Because his Mom is always going to be there and it will always be his home. I don't have that for Jodi, Damien, their kids, anyone. I DON"T HAVE A HOME and safe secure place for me. I have no car as of last week. I AM 51 YEARS OLD. I DON'T HAVE A CAR, A HOME, HEALTH INSURANCE, but of course have terrible health, have no job, no money in the bank or saved, everything I own is in storage and probably will never be out until I lose it all, I have a son I adore more than life itself, and in spite of the hell from the divorce and split homes, thought we had a close relationship and that I would never go months, a year, holiday after holiday not seeing him, but that is reality. Why? It was less than three years ago, he said something to me I will never forget. Probably the sweetest words I will ever hear. "Mom, you are my favorite person in the whole world. That's alive anyways. You're my best friend and the nicest person I know." HA, I never did get the "that is alive anyways" part, but WOW! I couldn't have thought of those words if someone had asked me what is the best thing someone could possibly say to me EVER. And to hear that from my Son! I played it cool, but I almost spontaneously combusted that moment from my heart feeling those words. And now, I honestly think he is ashamed of me. Embarrassed. Seems to need to be as far away from me as possible. Can't depend on me being ok, being healthy, being secure. I have no place for him to come home to see me really. I failed him and what really hurts and sucks, is that when I was the most amazing Mom, the organized, reliable, multi tasking, homemaking, church dedicated, fun go to person, dependable, (aside from surgeries and that crap that was out of my hands) brave and confident Mom that he wanted to do everything with and needed and was his whole world, he can't remember any of it. And I've fought, and fought, and pushed through, and hurt the most hurts, and endured things I NEVER dreamed I would have to go through, just to face something even harder, scarier, lonelier, and more painful as soon as I got through the last thing I knew had to be the worst and would kill me for sure.I've had meltdowns, plenty. I have said "that's it! I can't! I am out of fight. Out of energy. Out of Hope, options, energy. I have nothing left of myself. I am empty, hollow, hopeless. Wishing for death. Begging God to take my last breath. And after hours, sometimes days and even a week or two here and there over the last decade, I clenched my jaw and got up to battle the next battle. Partly because I am stubborn. Partly because God wasn't stopping my heart and I can't just not move forever. Mostly tho, because I would tell myself the same thing every time. Would I want Jacobey to just give up totally, on everything and everyone? On himself? Would I tell him to quit? Would I want him to just let himself die on the inside or outside? Would I want him to let hate take over his spirit and tell him that if he were feeling this much pain, hopelessness, and struggle inside and had been fighting battle after battle and every battle that he seemed to lose but survived all the same, took more of who he was, and left less love and hope inside every single time, he should just quit? I promised him and he promised me, neither of us would EVER do that. We would never check out. He was 11 I believe when I asked him to promise me that he would never quit. And I promised him. He was really sad, and depressed all of a sudden. It was over a two or three day period. He couldn't, or wouldn't, really articulate what brought it on, or why he was so upset. I just remember he was in the spare, or computer room, whatever we called it. We also called it the fish room sometimes, ha. He was under the bed, it was the one that we had got for Jodi when she moved in. Had the drawers and basically the entire bedframe under the mattress was a big open space. I can't remember who gave it to us for her, but I do remember they built it themself. Merlon, maybe even JJ.. Anyways, babbling me....Jacobey was under that and I was looking for him for a bit, not too long, and when I found him under there, he wouldn't come out. He said he was to sad, and didn't want to live anymore. Didn't want to come out. Just didn't want to live. It felt like my heart actually stopped when he said that. I remember physically feeling like a vice grabbed my heart and squeezed it so violently, it just burst. And the tears hit my eyeballs with this sudden gush, like way too many all at once just flooded like a damn burst. It was too much all at once and that fast, and I remember how my eyes stung and burned instantly, and at the same time, I felt all this pressure from the instant tidal wave hitting my eyes and sockets all at once. I tried, probably failed, to keep my voice calm and soothing, and asked him questions, told him sometimes things hurt our heart to much it feels like the only way to make it stop, is not to be here. HE still wouldn't come out, sounded so so very sad and little. I told him he could stay there for awhile, and I was going to give him just a little more time alone, but than I was coming back to sit there and just be there until he was ready to talk about it, and come out. If he wouldn't come out, I would just sit and wait and not make him talk till he was ready. The real reason I gave him five or so minutes alone in the room under the bed was because I couldn't control my emotions another second. I went to tell Matt what was going on, and ironically, I believe he was laying in the closet at that time, because he had been depressed and would retreat to the closet to kinda hide or shut out the world. I was pretty hysterically crying now and told him our son wanted to die and wouldn't come out from under the bed, and I don't know exactly why, but I was so scared and I needed him to come sit with me by the bed in the spare room and just be there and he needed to know he is loved and we are there, and what if he hurt himself, and come on Matt, I can't bare the thought of him hurting this bad, and on and on. Matt wouldn't get up. Told me he is just upset at some kid thing, he will be fine. I'm overreacting. I wanted to punch him in the face. How could he say that, when he, The Dad, The Adult Dad, is in the closet and had been hiding in there, sometimes crying, sometimes having full anxiety attacks about dying or having to be in social situations, but OUR CHILD WOULD BE FINE! He should have been a bit more understanding of emotional turmoil and been there for both JC and his wife, but he was going thru it, still unacceptable, so I calmed down and after some time, JC came out. Still never got what or if something specific happened, a little of too much life overload just overwhelmed him, maybe things at school happened to another kid and they talked about feeling sad or what, but that day, I promised him and he promised me, we would never ever give up. Never hurt ourselves. Never stop living, and that is why I will push tomorrow, and the next day, and next. Even if I don't ever "win" or get somewhat of my life and myself back. I will fall and be to weak for a minute sometimes. A day or a week even sometimes, but I will pull myself back up again. Because that is what I would want Jacobey to do. That is what I taught him he must do. And if I don't do it, how can I show him he can and must. He doesn't know 90% of what I fight, what I feel, what I have gone thru, and that is how it should be. He thinks he has, and I am honest with how I feel about a lot of **** I am or have dealt with, but it is MY job to worry about him. To be there if he needs me. It is my job to show him as much strength and integrity as I can, and we all know I am a big cry baby, but I fight thru my tears all the same. And I won't ever go on and on, or tell him many things I have endured in life. Some from family, some from his Dad, some from others he knows and strangers. Life is hard enough, and he deserves all the love he can get, and he deserves to love all and who is can.