When To Give Up The Fight....

Rob and I were having a discussion this morning about me. Seems that I have lost some of my plucky fighting nature. He is concerned, and somehow hurt that I have.

After 13 years together, and numerous ups and downs, I guess I am worn out. Not by him per se, but by the whole life in general keeps giving me bushels of lemons, and I am sick to death of making lemonade with them.

This past weekend, I was supposed to have been contacted by the local greenhouse to take my pictures to them, and possibly hang some up in "gallery" space. The phone never came. I was disappointed, yet not surprised. I had gone out of my way to go to the Cincinnati Flower Show and take pictures of their various displays and booths, with the understanding that I would at the very least have those photos somehow displayed for their grand re-opening weekend. It was a 44 mile roundtrip to go to the flower show, and 3 dollars to park. I have not been reimbursed. I am, as one can imagine, unimpressed. I yet again feel used in my life.

I feel like I am used in every aspect of my life, and the sad thing is I think I allow it to happen. Maybe I am just a weenie, or maybe I can no longer fight for anything, because I am fighting for so much already. I have to fight my son for the littlest of things, and fight for my son for the littlest of things in his life as well. When we go out, my husband and I , I am usually the designated chatter. For 12 years it has been that way. Sometime over the past year, I have stopped being the chatter, and now Rob says he feels like it is he who is the chatter. What can I say, I am just worn out, and worn down to nothingness.

I think one of the last straws is that I have no real friends, or at least friends who know all of me. No one outside of my husband knows the whole me. I have a friend who knows a hell of a lot about me, but then, he knows what I have told him, and he has not really had the chance to actually hang out with me to see for his own eyes what I am like.

I have had to give up so many things because the people around me are ill, and therefore, need me,more then I need other things. I am tired. I am alone. I feel like I am a drift in a sea of blah, and no one can help me.

I must go wash the mud mask off my face, put on my happy face, and try to face the world as if nothing is wrong, when it feels like everything inside me is dying. Where there used to be sunshine, and light, now there is darkness and heaviness.