Category: The Housewife Diaries

The Housewife Diaries #5 – Lifehouse Blues


There are a multitude of us on this planet that live with Depression and we always look for ways to get through.  This is just one bout of many and doesn’t necessarily reflect on the way that every depressed person sees things. Just me at this point.

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Have you ever just sat in your room for days and not known what to do with yourself?

During depressing days like this I listen to a lot of music.  No specific genre,I really just bounce around my playlist or search through the recommendations to find something to suite my mood.  Most of the time I don’t even know what that mood is on days like these.  I suppose a lost and non-purpose feelings are two of them.  Yet motivation slips past me. Depression really sucks and most people in our lives don’t understand it nor do they really want to.  Try to explain it to them and they tend to tune out rather quickly.  They’re in the room but really you just wind up having a conversation with yourself while they are on their cellphone pretending to listen to you try to explain what it is like to feel this way.

A couple of nights ago I decided to have a few drinks to quiet the static in my  head.  Good job I’m a light-weight not having drank in 7 years by choice.  I had two drinks and was completely buzzed and started feeling numb but at the same time my head was spinning.  The codeine didn’t help.  I quickly realized I did not like the feeling I was experiencing at all.  My common sense still in tact made me wise up so I ate some dinner and then tried to have another drink when I realized I did  not want it.  Up to my room I went.  I’d been doing errands all day and was physically hurting all over.  I watched a movie and my body and brain agreed I needed to sleep.  My stomach had other ideas.

I tossed and turned until 2:15 am when after several trips to the loo my need to purge became rather clear and my dinner met the porcelain prince.  Wouldn’t you know after that ordeal I managed to go straight to sleep saying never again.  And I meant that shit!

I can understand how people like me want to feel completely numb.  But I also realized it’s a slow death sentence should it continue at length.  One which I realized I am not going to allow myself to do.  I know what is causing the height of my current depression right now.  I’m jobless, flat broke and about $20,000.00 in debt with no current way out.  Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t given up, I’m a fighter but after spending the past three months applying for jobs and either being rejected or receiving no response at all I am incredibly frustrated and it is weighing rather heavy on me internally.

Each day I awaken with hope and a smile.  I fully realize that there are many people out there far worse off than I am. For the most part I have my health although I live with the chronic pain of Fibromyalgia, cluster headaches, have difficulty walking a times, have continuous daily lower back pain that no medication seems to take away, I suffer from Depression and Anxiety disorder, my limbs still move, I have a fully functioning brain,a roof over my head, clothing on my back and food on my table when I decide to make it. So why am I so damn sad?

My common sense says I shouldn’t be.  I’ve been used to providing for myself since I was 16 years old and I really don’t like the idea of having to rely on someone else for my needs. I feel guilt for not bringing in a pay cheque currently.  I’m so used to just going out and picking up what I need when I need it over the past 12 years that now I feel as helpless as a child. When I say I was outrunning errands the other day I mean I had a little money to go grocery shopping, which involves several different stores to get the sale items the best I can and make the items stretch as long as it is possible.  My Child Tax Benefit came in, I got a Child Support payment and before going away for the next ten days my husband gave me $90.00 cash.  But it still wasn’t enough and I had to use the last available limits on 3 of my 6 Credit Cards.  Food costs quite a bit when you try to eat healthy and stay away from the junk and crap that you don’t need.  Now I did buy myself 4 tank tops because the weather is quite warm right now and I did need them and I treated myself to a few new release movies and Season 2 of Orange is the New Black which probably could have waited a while but you know when you have cards you get the itch and it’s always been a problem for me to stay away from the movie section in Wal-Mart, they always have great prices.

The true sadness of it all didn’t hit me until now because now I’m freaking out wondering how am I going to pay off that debt with no job.  Yes we now have food to get us through the next two weeks or more but the Rent is still not paid yet this month and the month is almost over.  Why do we find logic after the fact.  I’ve tried to convince myself to cut up the 3 largest amount cards and stay away from them, they are trouble and I knew it when I got them but when I lost my job the first time they helped carry us through until I got another job. Now they are all maxed out and I currently have no way to pay them back and I’m upset with myself for it.

Why do we put ourselves in these situations all the time.  I had a full-time job which I’d manage to find after nine months of being unemployed unexpectedly and then I got really sick with a horrible virus that I contracted on the job which landed me in hospital and damn near stopped my heart due to sever dehydration.  Between the virus and the job stress my body didn’t recover right away.  I had no choice but to resign my position.  I couldn’t keep up with the call center atmosphere.  The shifts changed every week and were never the same  So I quit.  That was on February 24th this year.

Today is May 23rd and here I sit in my room at 4:17 am.  I should be asleep.  I have laundry and housework to do, it’s not going to do itself.  I have to scour the job ads and put in applications and keep trying.

My husband is away until the 29th of May and for as miserable as he makes me I miss him terribly when he’s gone more than a day or two.  I love him. He drives me crazy but I really don’t know I could be without him.  I say I want to be on my own all the time but I really don’t think I do.  I don’t know that I’d survive alone.  Here we think we don’t have a purpose but really we do.  Our frustrations guide our brains into chaos and we just want to run away from it all.  But if we ran what would we be running to?

I now realize how much of our time as adults we spend worrying about things that are out of our control.  How we knit-pick on every little thing.  We bitch and moan about the wrong things and ignore the things that matter.

If I didn’t sit here right now writing this out, I wouldn’t be able to rationalize my thoughts. They’d come off as white noise, static, in my head to accompany the insomnia I already suffer from along with everything else.  I see the words hit the paper and my thought process begins to tick. I rationalize with each sentence I write.  Mulling over what direction to go in.

Right now I’m going to pause for a cigarette break.  Yes, I know, it’s a filthy habit.  But it’s the only bad habit I really have.  I’ll get to ridding myself of it when I’m ready.

Right then, so I’ve had my ciggy, grabbed a Gatorade and taken my Zopiclone ( sleeping pills for sever insomniacs ) so when it kicks in it’ll be goodnight Irene and see you in about 12 hours.

I’ve just glanced back and realized this little self-therapy session has grown to eight pages in my little notebook.  And, why I have chosen to share this one with you is so you can see the process.  When you start writing things down they become real.  Real you can deal with before anyone else says a thing to you.  You see answers you actually provided for yourself.  No money spent on a therapist either. So I share it on my blog.  I have many different things here on my blog from poetry and verse to short stories and life essays. This is just one more for the vaults.  That’s the beauty of it.  I found my voice via my pen.  It may not be everyone’s cup of tea so-to-speak but there are people out there, people who get it.  People just like me, who get a little lost sometimes and I’m not afraid to let my weaker side-show. I’m human, no-where near perfect.  I’m flawed, scared and sometimes an emotional train wreck but hiding it doesn’t suit me. Emotionally damaged, why yes, I am, and always will be. But knowing how to bring myself out of a funk well now that’s pure talent. A talent I learned when I became damaged at the age of seven.

They say damaged souls will always find other damaged souls and I think we’re meant to.  It’s always okay to break sometimes and the stronger damaged souls teach the weaker damaged souls how to reboot and repair themselves.  We’re never going to be perfect but don’t you see, that’s the beauty of it.  We don’t have to be.  We’re the creative ones,the loving ones. The ones who when a the end of their rope chose to swing like a pendulum and keep time moving forward.  Life can turn that turnakit as tight as it wants to but we’ve figured out how to cut loose and heal on our own, repair any sustained injury life has dealt us and apply our own first aid.

They’re saying good morning, it’s a new day. Time to try to reach for that brass ring one more time.

Rise and Shine.

Share that smile.

Today is going to be a better day.  You’ve already made it this far.  Baby-stepping, one little step at a time.

Don’t give up!


Until next time……..


Copy Right Protected  by the Crimson Vaults 2016.
Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults

The Housewife Diaries #3 – Disasters Come Easy


Some times in life we have to let out some of our own humility and bare our souls to the world so that others know they haven’t faced their own demons alone.  I faced quite a few horrible things when I was a child and this is just a small part of it.

This little essay is not meant to offend anyone and is not for the faint of heart.  Please read with an open mind and not a closed one.

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Have you ever tried to talk to someone who refuses to hear you?

It has to be one of the most frustrating things you can have to deal with.  Especially when they are one of those people who think they are always right and try to make you feel like less than zero.  Like you don’t really matter at all.


I was raised in a messed up family from the word go.  My parents split and divorced when I as all of five.  My mother decided in her broken mind that a younger man of nineteen was the way to get her groove back but when she became pregnant the said nineteen year old’s man-balls decided to climb back up inside his body and he ran like a bear was chasing him in the woods.  So there’s a five-year old, a 2 and half-year old and an unwanted pregnancy.  She had an abortion, though forty-one years ago it was a quiet affair.  Not like today, where women just blurt it out over coffee like they’re talking about the latest fashion trends.  Any way, naturally after the pregnancy was terminated the nineteen-year old boyfriend came back.  Fuck, it reads like a damn teen soap opera.  Here’s the thing, he was nineteen, she was twenty-seven.  She worked at a bank as a teller, he was a student.  Every weekend she would have her new-found girlfriends over to our tiny little two bedroom apartment, were they would get drunk, dance and puke then pass out.  All, of course, in front of me and my little brother.

At one of these all night parties, they were all dolling each other up with make-up and mum kept pushing me away, telling me to go play in my room.  Some how I found myself in the bathroom and found mum’s razor and decided to shave my legs for the first time.  Well, let me tell you ladies a few tips.  first, and most importantly: NEVER, EVER, leave a razor where a child can reach it.  Second, always wet your legs first and use soap or shaving cream.  I sliced both my chins from my ankles all the way up to my knee-caps on both legs.  There was heaps of free-flowing blood and chunks of missing skin.  It took five drunk women and everything in the first aid kit to patch me up and I was kept home from school for an entire week at the babysitters cause my mum was afraid child protective services would come and take me away.  Plus she was embarrassed and thought they would think it was her fault or that she did it to me.  When I went for my weekend visitation with my father she made sure to remind me not to let him see my legs or I’d be in big trouble when I got home.

Now, because my mother was liking her new party life she became some-what promiscuous and sometimes the nineteen year old would stop by for a midday quicky, at six years old I didn’t know what sex was but I did walk in on them several different times and saw way more than I ever should have which made me very curious about boys.  You see, I saw mum’s boyfriend full-monty and she thought it was fun that all of us, her, the boyfriend and my brother and I all have showers together.  My first lessons in the male anatomy and how it grew when touched.  So, with this being said, I am about to tell you a humiliating story.  One day at the baby sitters when I was seven, I decided that we all should play doctor.  (Do you see where this is headed).  Anyway, there was me, my little brother, the babysitters daughter and her little brother.  So we had a kids play doctor kit and after seeing mother so open about being naked around the house I figured it was normal.  After all I’d seen mum play doctor with the boyfriend so it had to be okay, right?

We made the boys pull down their pants so we could look at their tackle and the play needle was one you could fill with water so we touched, put them in our mouth and cleaned them with the needle. (We swapped brothers by the way, no incest nonsense here)  But we got caught by the baby sitter and of course she told my mum it was all my idea and that I could go there any more.  I don’t remember what mum screamed at me but she spilled or rather, I should say, sloshed her drink all over me and I was grounded for a while month.  Even when I tried to tell her “but, I see  you and Fred do things like that all the time and you put it in your mouth”, she slapped me so hard and threw me in my bed and slammed the door shut.  My lip was all bloody and I wasn’t even allowed out to go to the toilet.

The moral of this short but very embarrassing part of the life I didn’t ask for is respect your children and never ever think they aren’t watching you.  Some things children should never see.   Certain things can ruin them.

Later on that same year I experienced my first flasher.  Mum, my brother an I were walking home through the woods and this fully naked grown man came walking out from the trees calling to my mother.  I think had we not been with her that day, he would have raped and killed her.  We ran like hell all the while my mother screaming for help.  We moved not long after that.

Some of the things we’ve faced as children have not been the most pleasant but we have made it through them and it doesn’t have to be a secret any more.


Until next time…..


Copy Right Protected by the Crimson Vaults 2016.
Copy Right Protected
by the Crimson Vaults