I go to take a sip of my Sauvingnon Blanc and notice the blood still on my hands through the glass. I have to take a few sips before I can wash it off. The lime scented soap smells old and unattractive and I wish I could buy more. Instead I added water and cheap soap to try and find the right combination that can only be bought in a store that I can no longer afford to shop in.

I really can no longer afford to shop. But I have a warm bed and loving people surrounding me and stuff really is just stuff. I have my books. Someday I will even get around to reading them all again and indulging in new ones. My children will grow older and time will be found and I will be lost without them and long for the days when they were younger and times were harder.

Clutter surrounds me inside this home that I have known for the past ten years. Ten years of cleaning leading to ten years of accumulating and I look. I look and I wonder how it started and how to start fixing it. I wonder when. I know how. I do not have to wonder how to fix the clutter.

I wonder how do good people get cancer and brain tumors and bad people go on and on? I wonder why the bodies autoimmune system sucks one persons body and leaves another alone? I wonder a lot of things. A lot of things I don't wonder I know. Or I just don't fucking care.

He said he needed help. They both said they need help and they want help but I have heard so much from them I do not believe they will get help. I am not there yet. They have given me no reason to. They disappoint me and scare me and take care of me all at the same time. They are frustrated by me and annoyed and then love me more than anything in the world. I hold on to what I can and am learning to let go of what I must. I try and let less tears fall.

The less crying makes me wonder if I am growing. Growing up? Growing numb? Or going back? Far to the place I once was for many years... The place where things like this didn't touch me and love was a notion for fools.

I dread the morning chaos that is to be tomorrow. I long for a night to numb the pain and pass out only to awaken on my own terms to do what I want with the day. I spent weeks on bedrest agonizing and crying, frustrated. We humans make no sense.

I want to stay up late and dance alone to music with my curtains open and not care. I want to sing loud and not awaken anyone. I long to be tired and curl up in my big bed with all of my kids early and stay there all night. I am conflicted and confused and confident all at the same time. I try and fill my mind with trivial thoughts such as what I might wear tomorrow and will I be on time to anything and what will I actually get done?

My other mind is screaming questions that have meaning and purpose if only at the moment or for the moment. Will this work out? Will he grow up? Did The Other One stop bleeding? Will there be hospital visits and work for me? Who will pick the kids up from school tomorrow? Is it necessary to have such expensive parking when those of us using it are obviously not in good situations? Do I have time to get to the store? Will blue-eyes continue having night terrors? Is the baby constipated? And do I still have thrush?

Are my best friends okay or just pretending to be? Do we all wear the mask and wear it well? Is happiness a real feeling? Does it only last seconds or just to those of us prone to our moods? Who loves me and who is sick of me? Who calls me out of duty or curiosity and who calls because they want to? Why does going to the dentist cost so much money?

I wonder if I make sense to you. I care and I don't. I'm passionate and curious and intelligent. I feel forgetful and stupid like I have got this all wrong. I wonder if I am a bother and I wonder if I even care. Some of my doors are open and some are closed. Once they were all closed. Am I making progress or just going through the motions?

I came home the other day, both overwhelmed and frustrated. I am trying not to smoke, not buying cigarettes. I broke down sobbing over something I don't even remember. Maybe its because it is late or maybe because it is something that did not really matter. I weeded the area around the trash cans with my bare hands. I broke all my nails and put sores on my fingertips. I cried hysterically as I pulled the greenery from the soft soil. My tears slowed as I finished and I felt accomplished. The physical pain was trivial in comparison. I write and I think back. This happened two days ago and I do not remember why I was so hysterical. I came back into the house and the baby was crying.

My husband was here for his visitation and I did not leave a bottle. I was scatterbrained and upset. My head hurt from the tears. He came an hour earlier than expected but it was suddenly over an hour later.

I talked briefly to an old friend. She said good-bye to me for an entire four years after over twenty-something years of friendship and then she appeared again at a time when I hope we can both do each other good and help one another through times like these. I hung up the phone, baby at my breast and proceeded to sleep for an entire two hours.

Except, I had horrible nightmare-ish lucid dreams which I attributed to a conversation with one of my best friends the night before. I could not awaken and I knew I needed too. I cried in my dream and I eventually woke up crying. Although visitation hours were to be over by the time I crawled out of bed, he held me while I cried and left me alone to shower and find myself while he put the kids to bed for me as I was in no shape to do so. Why weren't things like this before?

I believe in it all at one moment and the next I laugh at the promises and believe them to be just a farce to win back the life we once had. I don't know what to believe mostly. I miss talking to my trusted therapist. My longest relationship ever with one therapist. Over four years and considering I have been in therapy sixteen years I am amazed. And then the new insurance comes and laughs and doesn't want to pay. I cannot pay out of pocket. She says to come anyway. I can't. Or at least I have not yet. I see another one on the side, like a cheater. Its not the same. It won't ever be the same again in a lot of ways.

This story began with the blood that needed to be washed off. I worry. I picture in my head the bleeding and I argue once again with God. We have that sort of relationship. I feel if he is going to come back into my life, we should be able to talk however. I mentioned that in my last meeting with my favorite Deacon and he agreed. If we can't disagree with God, than what sort of relationship do we really have with him? I think I need the Deacon now. I wish I could go to Mother's Group tomorrow.

But tomorrow is school drop-off and domestic violence therapy. Its Family Justice Court and Famiy Court Mediation. Its finding my way around a downtown I once was totally confused and afraid of but now walk around confident. I am no better; I am no worse. No one can take anything from me because I have nothing to give them in that way.

My mind drifts. I want the baby to have his own room and my little girl to have a big girl bed. I want the remodel finished. And then I feel foolish and selfish because no truck went through my house. Because my kids are healthy (for kids and all...) and wise and beautiful. I know beautiful people with beautiful families. I am so lucky in so many ways. Sure I complain and bitch but I know how things really are. I never forget and I never look over.

Good Night.