I knew I hadn't blogged in a while, but I was shocked to get on here and see that it had been just a couple of days short of a month since my last entry.
Allow me to attempt to explain myself.
No, I can't give you a single specific reason why I haven't been writing. I will tell you that I started this blog to be my personal, somewhat-anonymous space where I could say what I wanted, where I could vent and worry and talk about things that I am normally too afraid to talk about in real life. Well, either afraid to talk about or I just don't feel like anyone wants to hear about it. And now, apparently I am getting that way with my blog too.
I could write about how more often than not, my marriage seems to be crumbling. How my husband and I fight for hours at a time, days at a time, yell at each other, and how I want to hit him so badly for saying the hurtful things he says to me. How I have cried so hard that I cannot stop and end up having panic attacks in the middle of the night, because I never, ever thought that we would be like this, and I never would have dreamed that I would feel the way that I do about him so often now.
I could blog about how my brother was living in a Wal-Mart because he has been kicked out of overy homeless shelter in town because he refuses to stop using drugs. I could tell you about the call my parents got from one of my brother's friends, saying that my brother had a cyanide pill and planned to take it soon to end his life. How my parents asked me to help, and so I knew nothing else to do but to use my connections at work to have a probation violation warrant issued for his arrest. I went and told his probation officer's supervisor about every violation that I knew of. I found out where he was going to be dropped off and when on the day said warrant was released. I stayed on the phone with the officers as they found and followed him, and arrested him. How my brother said he would kill himself in jail and my guilt related to that. What kind of person orchestrates her own brother's arrest? Me, apparently, when I see no other way to try to save him from himself. But if something happens to him behind those bars, I will never be able to forgive myself. Because although I am not the REASON he is in jail, I put him there.
I could write about my worst fear in the world right now...that at sixteen months, my baby girl has stopped using all of her words. How every word with the exception of "Dada" has seemingly disappeared from her little mind. That it has been nearly a month since I have heard her sweet, tiny baby voice say "Mama", "baby", "apple", "hi", "hey", "bye", "puppy", "egg", or "fish". That she no longer points at pictures in books, asking to hear the words for everything by saying "This? This?" How I am completely terrified of that horrible, ugly A-word...autism. That my husband is sick with worry over it because it runs in his family. "If she has it," he says, "it would be all my fault." And that it is taking what seems like a million years to have her evaluated or seen by her pedi. That I truly don't know if I could handle that diagnosis. I am so afraid to even think of it as a possibility, to type or speak the word. As if doing so will curse her with that condition or make it suddenly real. It tears me into a million little pieces.
I could write about any of those things.
But I end up pushing it all back down inside, rolling my fear and anger and guilt and sadness and worry into a ball in the pit of my stomach, and not using this blog for what it was intended to be - my only outlet for all of these feelings and fears. I tell myself that no one wants to read whiny, negative entries. That if I write the things that I am thinking, that people will think I am some kind of self-pitying, bitchy, crybaby drama queen.
And then I can't think of anything else I have to say, because all of these horrible feelings seem to consume me completely these days.
And no one wants to hear about that, right?