Well, here it is. What a way to start a day. 6 a.m. and I have been crying already. When it hits, it usually is around 5:30 or 6. I hate that.

I have never felt so alone and well, powerless. No, I don't think powerless is the right word. Helpless is a good word. I feel that I don't have anyone that I can truly turn to. I don't have anyone I can lean on - cry on. I feel like no one cares. Keep the mask on and keep smiling and everything is alright but let it slip just a bit...and :::poof:::

I don't think that I've ever written about how bad things really are in this journal. Even here, the mask has been on - except for the times where he just absolutely pissed me off. Truth is, I've tried to avoid the subject. My journals are an escape - or at least that's what I try to make them.

Taking Lord Morpheus' words to heart, I will play the fool and I will tell the truth.

Things have not been sane in this relationship for a long time. Somewhere along the way, the idea that I can not take care of myself has taken root. I have an IQ of 126 and I'm not able to take of myself. It wasn't always this way - one of the things that C.M. used to like about me was how independent I was. It's gotten all twisted around somehow.

I'll admit that for a while, I played along because it was all under the guise of he wanting to 'take care of me'. I'll admit it, I like not having to worry about the important things getting done - bills being paid; dishes washed, trash taken care of...he wanted to do it so he did it. Then it all just stopped without a word. Everytime I would ask if I could help with something, the answer was (and is) always the same: "No, I've got it." or "No, I'm taking care of it." while everything just goes to hell.

So, back in June of last year, C.M. got sick. I drove him to the emergency room at 3 in the morning. I remember it because it was so damn hot and it was one of the driving reasons (no pun intended) to begin this journal. Not long after, he tells me that he is going to his parents house for a few days because they had an air conditioner - and I don't see him again for a week or two. Honestly, I can't remember how long it was - I just know that I was stranded with no phone, no car and absolutely no one to talk to except god, myself and the cats. This is how I spent the summer - he would show up for a day after a week or two. (I know I had some classes in there somewhere...but no more than two hours a week) I very nearly lost my mind and wondered on a few occasions about how I was going to feed the cats. Here he was, practically living the high life in his brand new car and satellite tv and me with the clunker that spent as much time sitting in the driveway useless as it did running. I couldn't call anyone to borrow a car. I couldn't get out and get a job. I couldn't do much of anything except sit; think and wonder how the hell I got myself into that situation.

I ask myself why I've stayed after all the shit I've gone through in the past year. I don't know. It certainly hasn't done much at all for my self esteem except to wreck it. After all this time, I still can't answer that question. People have been thrown in jail for treating dogs the way I've been treated and here I am. Feeling alone, unappreciated and sorry for myself.

I feel like my eyes have been opened in this last month or so. I got mad one night because he told me to my face that he didn't feel like helping me carry the groceries into the house...then he got mad because I 'threw a tantrum'. I've noticed that much of the time in conversation, it's always 'me', 'my' and 'yours' but never 'ours'. 'My' house payment. 'My' bills. 'Your' stuff. We never talk about anything that other people in relationships do...Sheesh. What a messed up thing.

What brought all of this to a head is the fact that suddenly, after I've been yelling all summer, things are finally getting done. The reason they're getting done is so that he can schedule an appraiser to come by and look at the house so that he can get a lower house payment. That's what it took. Not the fact that I said something about it. Not the fact that the place looks (and feels) like hell but someone 'important' is coming by to see the place. I don't know. It just doesn't seem right.