Today is . . .

First Friday, where a local author reads his or her work. I go to this event regular. I will not miss tonight either, regardless of how I feel right now.

I have been seriously moody lately. I was nearly crying walking through WalMart today when came across something that reminded me of how . . . .  In the car the country song played, "Turn the lights down low . . . ." I cried. My daughter, thank God, didn't notice. She isn't feeling well, so her mind was wrapped up in getting home after picking up her meds. Now, I'm reading different post: on the blog, on myspace, on facebook, and listening to the quiet in the house that doesn't happen often. I am crying. I don't want to go anywhere tonight, but will. No, I should say, I don't want to take myself anywhere, I want someone else to take me somewhere. Don't ask the difference. If you don't understand that statement, I am not explaining it.

Ginet is sleeping in her room. Will is asleep on the couch. Garry is sleeping in the bedroom with the T.V. blaring, as usual. David and Anna are doing their job of crossing children at busy intersection after school.

I finally gave up on Garry. He refuses to keep cigarettes away from his lips, and he refuses to attempt any physical therapy to help his body. I can't stop him from NOT caring about himself. He is back to smoking three or four cigarettes a day. The pack a day won't be far behind and I will be fighting to keep him from spending money we don't have. It is coming. I am getting closer to walking away. I cannot take this. What else can I say. And don't give me that load of garbage of prayer right now. Not working. Garry doesn't wasn't to listen to any other "will" but his own. I am depressed, but keep it hid from all in my family. I cannot listen to any of them, and I will not have them . . . making excuses, attempting to make me feel better with whatever actions they may think appropriate. I don't think I can explain why my family can't know, other than what they will do will not be the right way, no matter how much love is put into it. Yes, you can all tell me to speak to Garry; if he isn't listening to me about how I care about his health, about us, then whatever I have to say about how I feel right now isn't going to be heard. I guess, it is time to move on however I can. I don't want to do this! I just don't! When I come to my final decision, all will be mad and disgusted with me (well, at least my children will be, and Garry's family). Yes, yes, yes: love and cherish till death parts us. But what if one has decided on his way as . . . . ?

Forgive me.