search instagram arrow-down
penelopie wilson

penelopie...

most recent posts

Top Posts & Pages

previous posts

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 46 other followers

Follow hilltop confessions on WordPress.com

translations

november and december have been long. the kind of long that is torture day-by-day, but is gone in the blink of an eye. blurred together into one big ball of destruction and pain.

a bit like a snowball. gathering more and more sorrow with each passing day, growing in strength, chasing me. me, the cartoon figure who is running ahead of the giant snowball that is rapidly getting larger and gaining speed. my feet moving as if independent from my body. my mind not quite functioning as a normal mind should. and yet, cartoon me continues to run.

and the snowball of pain and destruction continues to grow, continues to build speed and continues to roll down that hill after me.

eventually, as in all the old classic cartoons, the snowball catches up and flattens its intended target. somehow the cartoon figure manages to poke their little cartoon head up out of the snow, and shake it. as if shaking their head, and the snow off of it, magically erases time, and any damage done. if only real life were that easy.

but in real life, when the avalanche catches up to you…it buries you. it buries you so deep that you need to be rescued by outside sources. it’s highly unlikely that you will ever be able to reach the surface on your own. it’s too far. you’re too disoriented. too tired. there’s no air when you’re trapped underneath of all of that snow.

in real life, there’s no air when you’re trapped underneath of all of this destruction and pain. running and running and running already has me winded. when the snowball of destruction gets me, there will be nothing left in my reserve. i’m so tired already. so tired.

and like so many others out there on these dangerous mountains, i am alone. no one will come to rescue me, because no one even knows i’m out here. i never gave anyone a detailed map of my adventures. i haven’t checked in with anyone along the way in quite some time. the last time i did…the “reception” was poor. it’s hard to get good service when you are as far out in the middle of nowhere as i am.

there are warning signs in life, just as there are in hiking. not to go alone. the dangers that lie in wait. “safety in numbers.” however, there are equal dangers in traveling with the wrong crowd. there’s the crowd you had no choice but to travel with for awhile-your family. the crowd you choose along the way-your friends. and eventually, the crowd you make your own-your spouse, children, those you have loved, etc.

more often than not, most of us get stuck with a shitty starter pack. most of the people i know, their initial travel companion crew were barely a step above deliverance. it seems as if there are quite a few broken families in this world, breeding broken children. us broken children get forced to hike through this rugged terrain with people who’d just assume throw us to the wolves.

IF we make it through the first leg of our hike, then we encounter an entirely new set of obstacles with the people we actually chose to travel with. friends. friends we make along the way, throughout life. it’s been my experience that they are generally liars and thieves. never who they pretend to be in the long run. most friends use you for their own selfish gain, and then discard you when they have emptied you.

so basically, the first group of travelers will beat you and break you…while the second group will rob you blind and leave you with nothing, both literally and figuratively. by the time your third, and final, travel pack comes around…you pretty much are who you are. yes, you’ll still have some friends join, and depart, your travels from time to time. likewise, your final travel pack might change out participants. but the gist of the metaphor remains.

for mine, my final pack is just that. final. there will never be any others.

my husband will be a widow before i am ever a divorced woman.

some people are strong. they can pick up the pieces and go about life, starting over. i’m not some people.

i’ve been staring at my broken pieces, scattered all over the place, for a long while now. i lack the tools, the wisdom and the patience to even begin putting myself back together. some of us really are just…lost causes. i’m in so many pieces now…i couldn’t even pick them all up to move me around. i’d just crumble into ash. disintegrate into nothingness. which is ultimately what i am anyway.

so if i ever find myself in that situation, then i will know that my time has come. something that no one knows, that no one will ever know. i can barely find enough…anything…in me to begin each day that i have now. again, something that no one knows, and that no one will ever know. the thought of starting over is something i have no desire to ever do. something i will never do.

this world and i, we don’t belong together. that’s no secret. i have no love for this life. obviously, this life has no love for me. currently i wait. i wait, as patiently as i can, each day. i wait for death to come and take me home. patiently.

as the days pass and i continue to wake up, i feel my patience growing thin. the days continue to grow darker. i look around…everywhere…and can’t seem to find any solution, any escape, any…thing. so my world becomes smaller and smaller. my options become less and less. until finally all i can see is just one. one solution. one option. one escape. one way out.

when i lift my head, my head hung in exhaustion and pain, my sad eyes reveal it now. the hopelessness, the despair, the pain, the suffering, the panic, the absolute loss of everything. the choice that has been made. but only those who know how to read my eyes can see it all. in this life, there are only three people who can read my eyes…and none of them come around anymore. so my secrets are safe.

i run from the snowball of pain and destruction because it’s a reflex. or because i am so desperate to get to a clearing long enough to have at least one good breath. oxygen. air. breathing. a moment of peace. the calmness. that moment when you are bent over, hands on your knees, desperately fighting for any life to fill your lungs. that moment in time when your chest burns…because you’re dying.

i suppose a part of me runs because the sober me carries more fear. the loaded me had no fear, only tunnel vision. sober me sees and feels everything very clearly. and just like in a game of chess, sober me sees 15 moves ahead…before a pawn has even been moved. fear is a powerful motivator, both for the good and bad.

eventually desperation will win out, though. and when that day comes, fear won’t matter. the only difference maker will be-what am i desperate for? because whichever side of that coin it lands on will determine my fate. if my current moments of desperation are any indication of what the future holds…then i can read my future quite easily.

tonight, i am tired. tired and sad. i find myself stressing over things i cannot change. i find myself trying to fix things i have no control over. i find myself missing, and loving, someone i fear i have lost for good. i find myself so very worn out about stressing over this person…that i find myself questioning a fundamental fact.

am i even worth it?

and the answer is always the same. it doesn’t matter what context you put it with. the answer remains solid and steady. unwavering. the one constant in my life.

in regards to this person, who weighs so heavily on my heart, my mind, my soul. the only good thing in me…is him. he makes me a better person, by simply being. he has the ability to calm my restless soul, soothe my weary mind and comfort my battered heart by just being near. am i worth it? to him, am i worth it? for him, am i worth it? this man that i love…am i worth it?

in regards to my husband, who causes nothing but pain and sorrow. a constant source of stress, regret and frustration. my husband, who brings out the worst in me…a me i do not like. this man who lies and says he loves me, but harbors nothing but hate and dislike in his heart for me. my husband that i love…that i tried so hard to be whatever he wanted…and failed. am i worth it? to him, am i worth it? for him, am i worth it?

in regards to my granddaughter, who brings me nothing but joy and happiness. the sunshine in dark skies. the beauty on a black canvas. the Jesus in a God-forsaken world. my granddaughter, that i love beyond measure. am i worth it? to her, am i worth it? for her, am i worth it?

to a mother who never saw me…who never deserved me. to a step-son who doesn’t respect me or have any need or love for me. to the people who pretend to care…but aren’t fooling anyone. to the countless others i could write about here, but won’t. am i worth it? to you, am i worth it? for you, am i worth it?

the answer is the same. for every person. for every question. every angle. the answer remains the same.

no.

for the man i love, for the husband i love, for the granddaughter i love, for the countless others i love…no. i’m not worth it. to them, no. for them, no. they deserve so much more. they deserve better. and i will never be more. i will never be better. i will always be nothing.

i am not psychic. i have no magical powers. i cannot see into the future. but i have this feeling inside. this feeling inside that i cannot seem to get rid of. this feeling that is probably fueled by my thoughts that i have had, periodically.

a feeling is just that, though. only a feeling. not a fact. not a declaration, by any means. just a feeling. in the pit of my stomach. it’s simply a feeling that, as of now, i can’t shake.

my feeling is this: 2020 will be my last year.

Leave a Reply
Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: