Sleepless Nights

My husband and I moved back into his mother’s apartment building in October 1990. My son was nearly two years old, and I still didn’t have a job.  Things looked up when my brother told me of an opening for a pharmacy technician at the hospital.  He worked in the pharmacy as a technician and was good friends with the supervisor.  All I had to do was apply for my technician’s license, and I would get the job.

I applied the middle of November and was able to start a couple of weeks before Christmas.  I stressed a little bit since I needed a babysitter for my son and all I had was my husband’s family.  I was fortunate I only had to have them babysit until the beginning of January.  He turned two on January third, and the daycare center at my job accepts children over the age of two. My husband continued his disappearing acts. He would finally show up days later, reeking of booze and verbally abusing me.  He left our son alone.  I could ignore him since I had a job to go to and make plans to support my son and me.

I was so nervous about starting work.  I never could hold a job since I had Asperger’s which caused all kinds of chaos.  I wish I understood back then what I had so I could have gotten help.  I always thought I couldn’t hold a job because of abuse or lack of confidence.  I was employed thirty hours a week, but still qualified for health insurance.  Life seemed to be looking up.  I was dead wrong.

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Out of the Frying Pan-Into the Fire

It’s October of 1990, and I had been back with my first husband for a few months.  I regretted my decision to go back to him after my mom wanted my son and me to leave.  My dad couldn’t take us in because my brother lived in his house and there wouldn’t have been enough room.  No other family could take us.  I hit a low point and decided to secretly get in contact with my husband to see if I could come back to him.

My husband helped me pack up my stuff while my mom was at work.  I left her a note telling her I was going.  Life for my son and I was hell with my husband.  He was the same way as when I left him after our son was born.  He took off days at a time and left us with no money.  Thankfully, I had a little money in a bank account in my name, but it was depleting quickly.  We moved from place to place because of not paying rent.  My husband would work enough so we could get another apartment and food.  He would have sober moments, but it never lasted.

He would get drunk, come home and get verbally abusive towards me.  I took it, knowing I had nowhere to go.  One day, after our fourth place of living at, my husband disappeared for days.  He was supposed to be working at a roofing job but didn’t come home.  My bank account near empty to where there were about five dollars in it.  There was no food in the house, so I had no choice but to take out the money and close the account.  I had plenty of diapers still left for my son, but he needed to eat.  I went to the store and bought hot dogs and milk.  I figured he could at least get his dairy and some meat.

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Challenges of Rejection

I feel like garbage most days.  I think between being perimenopausal and having Asperger’s my body and mind get taxed.  I fight to not get into the depressive mode to not do anything.  I found writing is my outlet to take my mind off of the pain.  It’s interesting I have written new poems daily for the past month.  I probably missed a couple of times here and there, but I’ve been consistent.  It’s been challenging since my brain is in a constant fog.  I churn the poems out and somehow people like them on social media.

I get scared of putting my work out there since I have low self-esteem.  I push to do it because it’s the only way to overcome my fear of rejection.  One social media site, in particular, I gain followers, and then they unfollow me.  I go through the gambit of what did I do wrong, what didn’t they like about my poetry.  I posted my blog a few times on this same site and saw followers unfollow.  Again, I questioned what did I do wrong?  Finally, this week, I have trained myself to stop looking at the number of people unfollowing me, and post my work without worrying about it.

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