Life Summary - Long Story

I am a loser. I have poorly invested my time. I kept telling myself "next year", now im 30 god damn years old: under educated, under experienced, I have no savings.

Ive worked my whole with my family, my father, working properties: laying cement, ditch digging, construction, demolition. Ive helped build houses, green houses, garages.

My family has grown hundreds, if not thousands, of pounds of marijuana. Organic, artisanal. Its probably the one fucking thing I have any real knowledge in. My whole life has been built around these plants... but Im good for nothing else. Im not even good for growing anymore since I messed up my back. Slipped disk. Shin splints. Possibly Piriformis Syndrome... any time I bring up Puriformis doctors look at me like I said goblins are causing my pain. A whole jenga tower of pain going down my left side.

All the better because I am sober as a Nun. I dont do drugs, despite being around them my whole life. I don't smoke, rarely drink. I don't even like taking prescription meds because they scare me. Ive watched how theyve saved/destroyed my mom.

When she started having seizures she basically became a zombie for a few years. It took a long time to find a regiment of meds that allowed her to function as a person. She is in constant pain, the seizures made a bunch of her old injuries much worse.

Around this time is when my dad started to drift away, I think my mom's seizures freaked him out too much.

I have been doing what I can to help them my whole life. I would keep secrets, lie to keep the peace, and try and take care of my family as best I could.

I digress.

I have invested everything in my father. He is a good man, but can make poor decisions. The problem is that he is basically the king of our stupid little fiefdom. He is supposed to lead us, and up until recently has never led the family astray.

"Son, stick with me, help me and work hard and you can retire when you are twenty five." Thats what my father told me. Ive worked since I was old enough to haul fencing, hold a shovel, a pair of sissors.

But my dad made a bad choice. He bought a money pit that has consumed all the family redources. We aren't starving, the power is on and the water still runs hot. But every month my dad borrows more money, takes more loans and takes more money from the house my mom and I live in: usually any money that comes from a house's grow STAYS in that house.

But now everything is a flimsy house of cards. We have no choice but to help my dad... because if any part of his loan schinnanigains fails, everything we've built goes up in smoke.

The only thing I "own" is my car, and not even that. I make $334 payments, which I am often behind on, every month... $60 of which goes to the premium. I lose a lot of sleep over that friggin car, but without it I am truely useless.

I am at a complete loss at what to do. I can barely lift a bag of groceries without my back and leg giving me little warnings of pain.

I spent six months on my back, on the floor, overseas with my fiancee. I could barely sleep more than three hours a night. I couldn't go to the bathroom or bath myself without searing agony. I lost twenty pounds. I now know exactly how damaging sleep deprivation is, my mind is much weaker now.

Worst of all I got to experience my fiancee watching me become this weakling. This useless non-man who cant even support himself, let alone her.

My fiancee is nothing but loving and supportive, she did everything she could to help me. But me bring a broke and broken piece of shit with not a dime to his name in an ass backwards country like Indonesia made it amazingly difficult.

I slept on the floor, she slept in our bed. We might as well been a million miles apart. Every day she would look at me, the same look my father gave my mother when she had her seizures; "I love you... but this is too much."

Things got real weird for awhile. My sanity slipped. I still have nightmares about my time on the floor.

Not going into too much detail, but I tried religion for awhile. I was already too far gone to bother fighting, my fiancee was just as tired. My fiancee's mother, the evil, manipulative, abusive bitch that she is... harsh, I know, but she makes my fiancee suicidal, makes our lives hard when its convenient... she loved standing over me, looking down on me, beaming in victory.

I am the one thing that stands between my fiancee and her mother's abuse. Six months at her absolute mercy killed that.

Thr bitch baptized me with oil. My fiancee let her. I cried like a god damn baby. My dignity, my honor and now my very integrity have been irreparably shattered.

A few days of sleep deprivation induced delirium and pain that had become more a part of me than anything else... I could walk, barely. A hell of a "miracle". I still resent my fiancee deeply for this. I know she was trying to help. She is a good Christian girl and I am, or was, heathen scum.

I prayed for awhile. The pain never subsided, but I could hobble. For the first time in SIX GOD DAMN MONTHS I could wash my ass, shave my face, feel clean. I prayed and I could sleep in a bed. I prayed my stupid little heart out for my health and the health of my family. As sleep deprivation began to wear off and the voices subsided, I got my reason back. And a full flood of shame and self loathing.

I think I know how Job felt now. I dont dig it.

So here I am. Walking the razors edge of life. My fate isnt held in my hands, my whole life is based on the desperate, fickle decisions of a man who held my utmost trust and respect. I fear my pain, every day, every step it haunts me.

I've wasted my life in the hopes of "my time" coming... now my best possible "option" is working as a cashier at a crappy, fly-by-night grocery store. Two decades of my life spent on hard labor, familial madness, trying to be the stalwart drug price my family expected me to be... and the best I can hope for is a cashier position.

I had a house that was mine... until I gave it to my grandmother who refused to actually move into it, instead staying in an RV in the front yard instead... because she didnt want to "displace" me, even after I had moved back to my parents house to work.

I OWNED my own car... until my brother did enough damage to it for my insurance to consider it totalled. The little money I got from that went to my father to help with the money pit.

Its just my mom and me now essentially. My sister's dont speak to me anymore. My brother has long since moved out on his own. He struggles, but its HIS struggle.

My fiancee only visits for a few months at a time. Tragically, she is a princess, raised in a gilded cage. She loves me, this I know to be a fact. She feel in love with me for my writing... we fell in love before we knew ANYTHING about each other. For the first couple years of our relationship we only existed as words, stories, to each other.

I digress. She is a princess and I am (was) a farmer. I work in the dirt. I work in the sun. I work elbow deep in various kinds of animal manure. Or worked, past tense, I can barely work now.

Its easy for someone to say they would love to live my kind of life, free to make your own choices (as poor as they may be).

My point being that I often lose my fiancee to her mother's money. I often lose to the carrot and stick.

My fiancee is the love of my life, she is the kindest, sweetest person Ive ever met... but she is soft. Before she met me she was very weak, physically, emotionally, mentally. She was a prisoner to her abusive families whims. Before she met me my fiancee had thought she would never have "choice" or free will. She says that I "saved" her.

But here I set, my fingers too friggin sore to trim the weed I helped grow, to be sold for low dime... in the hopes of keeping this joke of a roof over our heads.

I am so tired. Deep down to the marrow tired. Every day it gets harder and harder to drag my carcass out of bed, especially since thats what put me on my back for six forsaken monthes: getting out of bed to go to work.

I feel overwhelmed by everything. Im drowning and all I get to look forward to is more drowning until Ill be lucky enough to get to a point where I can tread water until I die.

Thats the only thing that gives me any peace of mind at all: one day Ill be dead. No more pain, no more struggle. No gods, heavens or hells, none of that bull shit... no eternity. Just the River Lethe for me and sweet oblivion.

Then I realize how fucked up that is. Then I realize there is no help for me. That my only option is to keep struggling for as long as I live and hope that something will come along to make it all worth while... then I feel even more exhausted.

I have been walking behind my Moses in this desert my whole life. Im tired. There is no promised land. I think about having to keep living and the only thing that makes me feel better is that Death is waiting for me just over the horizon.

I keep living not because I want to, obviously. I dont keep living for love or family or honor or any of that shit. I "live" becsuse I am a stupid, stubborn ass hole... just the way my parents raised me.

And I cant afford it. I cant afford to die. But it sure does make me feel better thinking about it.

Ive been thinking a lot about Psychogenic Death lately.