It's that time again.

I've been feeling this overwhelming anxiety lately. There are so many things I've attributed it to. The lack of money for the holidays, my suck ass job, my court stuff, Ashley's worthless father and all the crap emotion he brings to my life, things that I just can't stop worrying about or thinking about. That's me. I worry. I have anxiety. But lately, it seems to be more. And it's because it's that time again.

It seems like I'm beating the drum to death. And I try, I REALLY try not to think about it. But every year it's there. No matter the counseling, no matter how much I have "let it go", no matter how much I've forgiven. I can't forget. And as the day to be Thankful approaches, I get the urge to just want to hide away for the week, and come out when it's over. But I can't. I have children that I have to teach to be thankful. I have children that need to be surrounded with family and loved ones, during this holiday season. I can't be selfish. The one time I probably should be. I'm not.

9 years ago next week, I weakly tried to take my own life. Not because I was suicidal, not because I was depressed, not because of any of the "normal" thoughts that people who try to commit suicide have.. And when I think about it, I don't consider it trying to take my own life, I just wanted the pain to stop. The hurt.. I just didn't want to see it or feel it anymore. I won't go in to detail here because there are people who I've made amends with over the situation that deserve that respect. ( I think!)

In the last few months, I've finally gotten some closure on that situation..the sordid details of what I thought I saw compared to what "actually" happened.. so that's helped a little. But that night, I can replay in my head over and over like a rewind button. I can tell you how things smelled, I can tell you what everyone in the house that morning was wearing, I can see it SO vividly after all this time, that it just won't go away.

After my hysterical freak out I had over what I had stumbled upon looking for my husband in a zombie like sleep state, everyone left me in the house by myself. Traumatized. His family had been over visiting for the holiday, and they ALL left me, including my sister, and went to his cousin's house. I locked myself in the downstairs closet, and slit my wrists, swallowed a bottle of ibuprofen, along with some Nyquil, or some other generic brand of that stuff and whatever else I could find in the medicine cabinet.. I just wanted it all to stop. After not answering a few phone calls, one of them, *still not sure who* called the police to come and do a welfare check on me. So even though they'd all left me, apparently somebody cared or was worried. Because I had cuts in my wrist and had tried to hurt myself, the police had to take me and have me committed to the hospital psych ward. This was not a fun time for me. I was alone, I was hurt, and my husband didn't care. He said he wouldn't visit me in the hospital, because I had just done what I did for attention.

I never did it for attention. I never did it because I actually wanted to kill myself. My heart just hurt so badly, I wanted it to stop. I wanted those visions out of my head.

The hospital called my parents, and they had to drive across the state to come and get me. Somewhere in that madness, I had decided to go home, or maybe he told me I needed too..I don't remember exactly where the decision came from for me to go back home.. But the hospital had to have my parents consent to release me, and they had to sign something saying I would receive counseling at home.

I went to counseling. But my family pretended like nothing happened. I was living in the same house as my sister, who had just betrayed me in the ultimate way and I found it very hard to heal. I never recieved an apology from her, I never got a reason as to why she did it, except that night, when she said she "just wanted to be like me".. Imitation is the best form of flattery? Is that how it goes?

So every year around this time, I get anxiety. When my mom wants to do the family thing and have us all together, I just can't get excited about it. I dread it, and put it off as long as possible. I can't sleep at night, I have nightmares, I just don't feel right about spending the day with those people. I keep it pretty well hidden for the rest of the year, but when Thanksgiving comes around, I just don't feel like putting on a smiley face for everyone to see. It's a constant reminder of the pain I felt, and continue to feel for that betrayal. Not at my ex husband, but at my sister. Blood is supposed to be thicker than water.. but this blood isn't very thick..

I probably shouldn't have blogged this, although private, and only a few people can read it. But it actually feels good to get it out. To IDENTIFY my pain, and be ok with talking about it. It still hurts after 9 years..

will it ever go away?