Dear Roger, Masochist? Me? No, I just like pain for the hell of it.

Sorry its been a while since I have written, I had to take a week or two spend some time wallowing in self-pity, allowing my fingers to heal after a marathon episode of nail biting left them chewed bloody and sore and I finally jumped into the abyss and started smoking again after I turned 21 for the 20th time. I realize that my ex is having a negative influence on me, and we did have a rather heated discussion when he accused me of having a masochistic martyr complex and that I was committing passive suicide by not eating properly and getting my damn biopsy done. I DO eat enough,and just because I am the same weight I was in high school, does not mean I am anorexic, I am just careful about my weight and health and truely there is not much I can eat that does not make me ill, so its just a catch 22. As for the biopsy, its not something that I relish getting done, though I fully intend to address it this summer, once the children are out of school and I am not having to shoulder all the weight of the house and family.
My ex is still not working and I am still the only support of myself and the kids, and still to the great extent, HIM. GOD!! Rog, I want to fucking run so far away from here that I fell like I want to jump out of my skin. I loathe every single day of my life and I hate it. My kids and I bicker and fight like caged rats, and somedays I just long to lock myself in my room and allow them to live like feral dogs, and often there are days I could just scream in frustration. I listen to a song called,"My Body IS A CAGE" and I FEEL EVERY WORD OF IT. The hightlights of my days are the 20-30 minutes when I get to be around the few friends that I have made at the school, but I feel the sharp disconnect as they leave to go do things like martial arts and sports with their kids like normal people and I just return to the misery that is my house, because we have neither the funds nor the resources to do those things.
I went to the college today and I am reapplying to go back and finish my Masters there as an English major with an emphasis on Creative Writing or Literature.I am going to go with a site based program, just so I have a fucking excuse to get out of the damn house every day, and I am going to try and get a job as a Graduate Teaching Assistant. I WANT THE FUCK OUT, I want to run, I am even considering applying for housing so that I can have a second residence and I will allow my ex to rent the house so I can have time to concentrate on my school and my oldest son can have some peace as well. I also want to apply for a semester abroad, if there is some way I can bring my oldest son.
Pain has been bubbling to the surface for some time now, and the PTSD counselor I have been seeing is somewhat of an expert at dredging up things that hurt the most and making me say things out loud that I have swallowed down and held back for years. I would have never expected a counselor to say,"What a bunch of cop out bull-shit!" but she did, when I told here I had been warned not to fall in love and give my heart in the way that I did. She actually got angry, and it was not what I expected and we have spent a bit of time working through all the anguish that I have carried, all the feelings of self-doubt that have haunted me and kept me reticent through every attempt at any relationship and that ultimately destroyed my faith in myself to have any kind of love for anyone. I am numb inside of any feeling other than pain and rage and I am not sure where to direct all of that the feelings, so I have been trying to contain them and manage them in my normal self-destructive manner,not eating properly, not sleeping, chewing my nails, smoking, wanting to drink but so far resisting,(thank God),and on occasion punching walls and turning my knuckles in hamburger. My counselor suggest a formal aknowledgement of shutting the door on the past and realizing that the past is done and I need to shut the door on it to save myself, so I am going to do just that, and after my son returns home in June, we are going to gather all tokens of that time of my life and we are going to take a trip and we are going to burn all those tokens and writings of the past and let them go, and then I am going to get my final tattoo, the one that I have been working on desiging for a few months and it will be my largest, On my left chest,(over the bear and covering it, will be a realistic heart, the size of my hand, it will be red and black and damaged looking, and it will be torn with a ribbon binding it together and written on the ribbon is the saying," Atoning for my Affliction is my Salvation" and coming off the left side of the heart will be a black angel wing that will extend up my left shoulder and drop down to touch my other feather as if to protect it,coming off the right side and extending all the way across my right chest will be a white angel wing, but it will be ripped and broken and grey at the tip, as if damaged beyond repair. It will be big, visible and dark and it will be me.Im soo angry, im soo hurt and I have never understood why I couldnt fall in love and have it reciprocated honestly.