My list is short. Be happy. Dont stress. Take care of myself. I fight myself every day to be happy, to not stress, and, taking care of myself, I wake and eat breakfast (something I never used to do..ever) I take the supplements and vitamins to give my body what it needs to let me get thru the day. I take care of those little day to day things that must be done for things in a household to run smoothly. Laundry, trash, trip to the store or pharmacy. Shit everyone does. I try to appreciate the things I have, the things I see, and ANY positive idea or thought that may by chance pop into my head.

Yet, every day I fuck something up, somehow. This week it was not putting ONE tiny pill into my evening pillbox. And I guess from the first night that I opened the newly filled box and didnt notice that one gone was a fuck up..and the second night..and the third..and the fourth. So when the past 3 nights I was in bed in pain by 7pm I kinda thought something wasnt right, but it wasnt until last night when I was in bed at 6pm, and I couldnt get comfortable, and every time I woke after an hour or two of sleep, I couldnt move. Every time I fell asleep I had horrible nightmares. Woke for the tenth time at 4am in tears, wondering why have I had a setback, why was I feeling debilitated again. WHY? The thought ran through my head that I was missing something, I opened the pill box..Saturdays Lyrica..Sundays, Mondays pills, no Lyrica…FUCK..I never put that one little fucking pill in and now 4 nights later I am in withdrawls, in pain, in such terrible shape because I cant take care of myself enough to remember one tiny fucking pill I have to take or I am bedridden. The worst is having to admit this to him..he already thinks I cant take care of myself. he already controls me to the fucking hilt. He already makes every decision thats important because I have FAILED to make them. Hell, I cant even balance a checkbook anymore.

I force myself out of bed at 8, make him breakfast (expected of me on weekends) I was told we were going out to the meat market. Do I want to, no. But I wipe the tears and do what I am told. The conversation comes up about moving and it can be MY choice..yeah right. My answer..just move to Florida where his mother is. Why. Because thats where he wants to be. Then I am told how great it is there and how I will love it. OK..tears..tears..more tears..because I realize he is right. I cant take care of myself, cant make decisions. SO I give in..I give up my to do list, my dreams along with it..and sadly heartbreaking, .I give up my love. My life. What does it matter anyway. It hasnt mattered for so long. I hate gulf Florida. I have said for nearly 30 years that is not where I want to be. But I was strong then, self confident, I was me I could stand up for myself without question. I am no longer that person. I dont like this new person who has invaded my brain and body..this person who has taken over my life and is such a fucking loser she cant even keep an easy to do list.