A New Tactic

Yes, I am still alive.No, I haven't felt much like talking lately and thus I really haven't felt much like writing, in fact, mostly what I have been doing is sitting on my ass in my room or in my recliner in the living room, staring out the window at the fucking grey and tan world around my while the wind blows 100 miles an hour and ignoring everything and everyone except when they reach the point of pissing me the fuck off.I have been on auto-pilot, just doing the things that have to be done to keep the kids from living in filth and squalor and from eating their own boogers more than usual, and mostly I have just sat in the wee hours reading vaguely pornographic ,"Twilight" fan fiction and contemplating why things are soo screwed up in my life.
My ex got out, hes not being a pain in the ass, he doesnt want to kill me,(so far), and the kids are really glad that he is around and allowed to see them. Him being pretty sane about the whole situation was a bit of a relief, but that whole situation came about around the same time my oldest son let slip that my folks were now selling off more of my grandparents property to keep their asses out of the poor house, and when I heard that, on top of the fact that my folks have just pretty much taken to ignoring my son alltogether, I just kinda folded up inside and rather than venting my rage and frustration at them, I started doing what essentially killed my uncle, I have been internalizing it, and its not going well for me. I have never been a overly happy person, and dysfunction is my families middle name, but when you add up all the shit that has gone on over the last few years in my life, it really starts to make me want to go just a little crazy, and that is why I just shut off and withdrew.
My grandparents and my uncle are how I survived to become an adult.They were love and stability and kindness and they took the time to know ME.I was never told by my granparents that I was the ,"smart one" and my sister was the ,'Pretty" one", my grandparents never discussed doubts about my sexual orientation over the phone with their friends when I was within earshot mearly because I had pictures of some older female Hollywood stars on the walls of my room when I was 11, my grandparents never sang,'Fatty,Fatty 2x4" at me when I went through the akward pudgy stage or sang the Coke-Cola song and made fun of me for my chest size when I developed breasts at 12 that were larger than most 18 year olds,I never smelled like dog piss or cat piss or cigarette smoke or filth when I was at my grandparents house,my uncle TALKED to me and listened to me about my ideas on art and my dreams of going to UCLA, he didnt bully me into a low rent college that I was then guilt tripped into wanting to leave because even though I was always told I was to go to college, no one had ever bothered to inform me that no one had prepared for it. I married at 19 so I could qualify for federal finacial aid so I could stay in college, and it was not a great marriage resulting in a broken hand a couple of times and an intimate knowledge of Arabic curse words and death threats, and I now have loan debt of epic proportions.
I have always been told that I was,"difficult", "not easy to love", and ,"stubborn", but my grandparents never made me feel that way, and they spent their summers with me, often teaching me life lessons that sustained me for the rest of the year. I adored them,they were everything to me and its their voices that I can hear when I most need that calm, sane influence in my life to keep me from taking that final step over the brink. The smell of my grandmas house,the sound of the clocks as they ticked in the kitchen, the heavy front door as it opened and closed and the clang of the metal outer door, the smell of the front yard after the rain, our walks up to the shopping center in the afternoons where we talked about pretty much everything, all those memories sustaine me. I have pretty much every card, letter, note, picture and postcard they ever sent me,trinkets that are tiny links to who they were.
I hated when my parents moved into my grandmas house, it was like a desecration of a sacred place.I hated that my grandpa was gone and I was never allowed to say goodbye, I was robbed of my right to grieve him and I never got over that and it has fucked me up my entire life.I hate that when my uncle died,I was not allowed to attend his service either, I always believed that HE was more my father than anyone else and when I lost him, it tore my soul and I still cannot speak of him without sobbing like I am broken, and I feel broken. I hate that my grandma was pulled out of the rehab facility and taken back home to languish and feel like a burden, she should have been made to stay in therapy, she would have gotten better and then the shit would have been ON.I hate that she was taken clear back to East Texas and stuffed into a nursing home away from her family until the flu killed her because she hadnt gotten the shot that she got EVERY YEAR. I hate that everything that my grandparents saved and scrimped and worked so hard to save and collect over the decades, is being sold off to strangers to support worthless horses, bad habits and things that would crush them if they knew. I hate that some strangers have been pawing over my grandpas medals and my uncles things, and that things that MEAN something to me, are being sold for nothing and that I do not have the strength to stand up against it. I hate that I put children in that dysfunction to become twisted and hurt and as fucked up emotionally as I am.
I wish I had the guts to do something about it, my sister wishes she had the guts to do something about it, but we dont and we just cry to each other on the phone until we both decide we cannot speak of it anymore for fear of the pain becoming too much.
I want my son home, and once he is home, I am going to shut a door for my sanity, but until then, I am going to write letters to my uncle, and that is what this blog is going to be, "letters to Roger", because he was the best of us and WWRD? pulled me back more than once. I know that its normal to lose people you love, that death is part of life,lots of people have fucked up families, and lots of people get over it and drive on, but I have developed a problem shifting gears and I seem to be stuck in neutral. I dont have a job, or a boyfriend, I quit school and when I saw my ex the other day to let the kids see him, he was shocked at my appearence and told me that frankly he was suprised I was able to get around and he wasnt just being a dick, I know I look scary and that my clothes hang on me, some of that shit comes from not eating or sleeping, and dark circles under the eyes, pale skin and wearing black are supposed to be the,'Cool" thing now, Right?
Im a hurt and angry thing right now, tis best those who only want to hear kind hearted platitudes stay away, because the jaw that has been clinched to keep me from screaming is really starting to hurt.