Violence

I've been in a violent mood the last few days. It's hard to express what's going on in my soul right now without one of you, if not all of you, fearing for outcomes.

I hate God. I wonder why he hates me so much. This punishment called my life. And why the hell does he have to make Em suffer. Perhaps the fuck that called CPS is right. Perhaps I'm an unfit mother. I question it all the time, don't I? You are all witness to that.

I think I feel violent because I have no control over anything. I'm suppose to sit here and wait for God to bless me with some miraculous reminder that I deserve so much and am a child of God. Is he trying to humble me, take everything away from me, remind me that I'm nothing without him?

I think sometimes it's working. I am nothing. I can't give anything of myself to anyone because I hate it all. I want to smash what I am against a window, breaking it, and embedding the jagged shards deep into my flesh.

I want to rip my hair out deep at the roots, pulling scalp away with it. And what I don't tear from my head, I want to douse with gasoline and set aflame.

I want to wrap a knotted rope around my throat, crushing my windpipe, and pulling tight until the pain is choking.

I want to mangle my fingers in fast-rotating blades until they are mere mince meat.

I want to disappear from this misery that God has imprisoned me in.

Why?

What did I do?

Was it my childhood self that angered God when I refused to play puppet to my mother's affairs?

Was it my adolescent self that tried to run away from angry parents and got as far as the apartment poolhouse?

Was it my twenty-one year old self that finally hit my mother back after so many years of punches?

Was it my thirty year old self that told my father that not informing me of his wedding plans was thoughtless especially since he let near strangers know about them?

What? What was it?

The anger that has continued to build inside since birth against the mistreatment of me? For not letting it go?

What the fuck am I suppose to do to change it?

WHY?! What did my mother do to erase all her ills to be so fucking blessed? And my father? Did he and my mother offer a sacrifice to this almighty God of ours? Am I it?

I can't get a grip. I want to scream out and punish someone for this life of mine. I'm tired of prayers and thoughts and bullshit like that. HAS IT HELPED?! Tell me? Am I better off for praying, for your prayers?

Am I suppose to sacrifice something? I sure as hell won't sacrifice Em.

Am I suppose to not be angry? How can someone not be angry? It's only getting worse. I'm suppose to be passive and let this happen? Smile and thank God for life...what life?

I'm tired. I really am. If I didn't fucking care, I would have given up. I would have slashed my wrists. I would have swallowed the pills. I would have driven off the bridge. I would have used the gun. BUT I HAVEN'T GIVEN UP! I'm angry.

Do you think that people who scream this fucking loud don't want to live? Do you think that most of the people who commit suicide didn't want to live? THAT'S BULLSHIT! FUCKING BULLSHIT!!! People who mourn and cry and scream and get angry want to live. They want life. They just want to have life in their hands. Not the fading in and out that this kind of misery gives. This life I live. This body I have. This mind and soul, and heart...they are worse than death and hell.

All that I am is questioned.

I talk to God every day. I plead with him. I beg. I try to relinquish my sorrows and worries and anxieties and fears and anger...to him. I've given him my joy. I thank him for my day.

But where is he?

I have no control. And it makes me angry. I abuse myself because of it. I should be better. I should be a success. I should be somewhere else in my life...at a different point.

But I'm here. I'm nowhere.

And I'm angry. I'm so mad at everyone who seems to be further ahead and only looks behind to say "I'm here for you. I'm praying for you. You're a good person. You should...and...try...."

FUCK!!

FUCK!!

FUCK!!

It's not going to stop, is it?

What can you do for me? Fix this. Take some of this off my shoulders. Get pass my "No, I'm ok" and my "I don't need anything" or my "I'm fine." Get pass that and do something. I don't know what to give you. I don't know what I need but I need it soon. I'm losing.

I'm suffering a slow death. I'm drowning and I refuse to let Em go down with me. I fear she will be what's taken from me next.

God hates me. And I hate him.

Comments

[Candie Winkel]

I was pimped out by mother and as a result it is hard for me to face each day myself. I am not doing as well as everyone would like. My Mother the one who beat me, and loaned me out to her assorted friends turned me into CPS for my dirty house and have been fighting for four years to try to get my babies back and it is too late for a few years cannot erase the childhood of torture so I understand why and where you come from and I want you to know we are not alone. My parents are both doing great themselves why I hang on the brink of reality trying not to take the plunge into insanity everyday. What keeps me going is the one visit a week they give me to see my children's beautiful faces. Keep your head up high you may have lost the battle but you have won the war because despite everything each day you survive. Sincerely, Candie Winkel.