Kate and Bridgette

Dear Hearts,

Tomorrow we return the NY House.

When I leave in September (10^th or 11^th) I will probably never see that house again.

Do you know that when I leave hotel rooms (after wiping and spraying everything with Lysol the night before), I check every drawer, every corner, under the bed, under the chairs, under and on the tables, in the bathroom…I am highly obsessive about it.

Now I am supposed to leave a house that I put all my precious things in, thinking that I would be staying there forever.

What’s hidden in the corners and nooks and crannies? What’s hidden fell behind the sink or dishwasher?

An errant earring? A bit of Arthur’s pot? A love note? A stray Barbie shoe?

My past and my fear of moving on.

That house makes me want to kill myself, but I also will mourn its passing. So many beautiful shelves, so much room…it’s an abusive relationship.

I’m not ready to say Good Night and Good Luck.

Shrink was all like you have to love yourself or else you’ll project this image that people. Fuck you. No one at Burning Bed knows that I have I think of myself as a stupid fucking bitch. The people with whom I work would not say, “Oh, yeah, Kate is really insecure and nervous. She has real mental issues.”

I hide that shit. Do you know what would happen if everyone waited until he loved himself for finding love or a job? The vast majority of us—all of us with CD—would be alone and not working.

When I wanted to kill myself in 2010 and in 2014—people around me didn’t know. That student I counseled didn’t know, as I was telling her to not snort Percocet or let her Baby-Daddy choke her into unconsciousness, that all I wanted to do was go home take a bunch of pills and call it quits.

I am learning how to live…to live a life I don’t hate…a life where I have choices…

At 40, that ain’t easy.

I am starting all over again.

Uncertain. Ambiguous. Bewildered.

I don’t know who I am or what I want.

No, I do know who I am.

Catholic. Republican. Patriotic. Compassionate. Loyal. Swears a lot. Has a temper. Loves smoking, coffee, reading, and TV.  Wants Love and Marriage. A collector. Creative. Intelligent. Intuitive. Fearful. Can act really well. Will not eat raw fish sushi. Good body. Really nice tits and ass. Likes tattoos. Feels guilty a lot. Worries. Anxious. Scared. Regretful. Hopeful. Sad. Likes to spend money. Puts her whole self into what ever she is doing—except cleaning and kitchen stuff. Mac-Girl. Jersey-Girl. Pennsyltucky. Like shooting. Hates getting up before nine. Grateful. Likes the creative eyeliner trend. Has bangs. Wear minimal makeup. Can wear three-inch heels. Draws. Cross stitches. Likes staying up late. Like name brands.

I could go on.

But I am also getting a largish tattoo on the left side of my chest. I just found out that I like cream cheese.

I don’t have to be Kate at Burning Bed. I’m Bridgette.

Kate stopped to talk to the two drunk stoners because she liked that they were admiring her boy. Bridgette carries a 380 with hollow point bullets when she runs.

What if Kate just let Bridgette take over? What if we put Kate and all her pain, sorrow, disappointment, and fear to rest. Kate has been on life support for a long time. If Kate is non-responsive and shows no sign of brain activity—maybe we need to pull the plug on Kate. Part of Kate died when she OD’ed anyway.

I can’t get rid of Kate. She is a part of Bridgette, just like that sad little girl who bullied for years is a part of Kate.

I had an Episode before I went to bed last night—as I was going to bed.

Whoever—Kate or Bridgette—is sweet mother of fucking scared of letting go AND not letting go.

The house is the last nail in the coffin of that life.

I hate myself.

Those are the words that just popped into my head right now. I hate myself. I am a loser.

This is not a life that makes me feel comfortable.

“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” Proverbs 3: 5-6

I am stepping off the cliff, Lord. Please catch me.

I am stepping off the cliff to live.

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

Family

Health

UC Remission

End of my Womanly Time

Chilled Coffee

Cigarettes

Good pysch thriller books

Buffalo Meatloaf

Angel

Leaving that house is going to gut me. I just hope that God fills that empty space with something good. I have hurt for so long.

God--thanks for the dragonfly by the bridge. I hear you.

I cancelled my hair appointment today. Because I don't wanna sit a salon for an hour.

See, if I got out there into the real world and have some success and fall apart again. Disability won’t be there for me. If I go out into the world on my---I am afraid I can’t do it.