Here we are again. Regression obsession, I must be addicted to drama. I know I am. Maybe I need it to feel inspired, to feel alive, to obtain that ever so elusive motivation to create.  I did start to write a new song this morning, so who knows, maybe drama and pain are my muses. Yesterday was actually a fantastic day except for the emotional reminisce of Josh’s brush with fate littered with his hung over non motivational nature. The day was the prettiest day I’d seen in a while and I had told Josh a week ago that it was suppose to be prime money making weather. I wanted to see him conquer himself and not waste the day. But in true Josh form he was a slave to his emotions and said he felt like crap and his head wasn’t in the right place and let it slip by him. He told me he would go tomorrow. But tomorrow has come and he is once again choosing the latter. He said he wanted to spend time with us. I said fine, let’s go get lunch then take Jashar to the park then check out the Art Walk later. He had also decided not to participate in that either. It’s almost as if he tries to shun money.  Jashar had a blast at the park, but Josh was hung over and bitchy and wanted to go home. He decided he felt to bad to go to the Art Walk so I told him he could stay home with Jashar and I would go meet up with Brittany. He felt like shit but not enough to miss the kava bar. Luckily, he was quick and I left for the evening. I cam home at a very respectable time, before 11, to find my son still awake! As I was getting him ready for bed Josh tells me he was going to Walmart, but he was dressed a little bit nicer than I would expect. I asked him where he was going and he said just Walmart. He wasn’t going to the beach. Bullshit. More lies, lies upon lies. He’s too sick to caricature or accompany me to the Art Walk but never too sick to drink and escape. Best thing is he says he’s not lying to me! I don’t even know if the traffic light story from the night before is true! I have no idea, truly. Sometimes I feel like I am going insane. Funny thing is said the same thing after he came home. I texted him after midnight, you must think I’m an idiot you can keep lying to. He text me back at 1:30 “I love you, Kelly”.

I replied, “Fuck you. Don’t ever touch me again. I’m not someone you can keep manipulating. You’ve never loved me and you never will.” He came home ten minutes later and climbed into bed and put his arms around me! I pushed him off and he asked what was wrong. You lie! All you do is lie I told him. Then he turns it around like he’s so good at doing and starts pushing me and saying, “What do you want from me!” Over and over, raising his voice decibels louder with every repeated phrase. The he put his hands on my throat yelling at the top of his lungs, his venomous words spewing saliva into my face. I was soaked. I numb out to this. It wasn’t hard enough to cut off air or leave a mark. I guess it was more of a control thing. All I could think of was great, he’s going to wake up Jashar when it had just taken me an hour to get him to fall asleep. I tuned out everything he was saying to me, because it really doesn’t matter. When he gets like this he just spits the same garbage over and over like his default button is programmed to hatred. There’s no reasoning with this or expressing how I feel….it’s all about him. I grabbed Jashar and went into the living room and sat on the couch. Minutes later I heard his slow growl turn into a bellowing scream, and I knew it wasn’t over yet. He came back out and was again screaming in my face about what else do I want from him, he’s trying, he gives me his paychecks, what else can I take from him. Screaming with spit flying from his venomous rantings, hands again on my throat as I’m still holding Jashar. I am numb. I refuse to respond. It would only make things worse, and I am still hoping nothing will be broken by the end of this episode . He doesn’t care what comes out of my mouth, he has created a different reality at this point. Saying I’m not on his team, I don’t believe in him, saying I’m never going to do anything with myself, I have no drive, no will, no motivation, all I want to do is watch some stupid program and take care of our son all day. He just keeps throwing anything out he can just to continue to fuel his rage and hear himself talk. He has become a narcissistic ball of fire. My thoughts are only filled with silent pleas to not break my keyboard or computer. Just end it to save my son further torment and emotional, psychological, and auditory damage. I just sat there and waited clinging tightly to Jashar who was still latched on my right breast awaiting Hurricane Josh to quell its storm . He ended his rant with a door slam so loud I swear the foundation trembled with pain. I thought it was going to blow right off of it’s freshly installed hinges. I waited till I thought him asleep, then put Jashar in the crib and i grabbed my pillow and a blanket and slept on our decrepit excuse for couch for the rest of the night.

He asked me if I was going to leave him the next morning. I asked him if that’s what he wanted, my voice beginning to tremble. He exclaimed no very quickly and I began my rant about why he has to lie to me… How can I trust him when he feeds me stupid little unnecessary lies all the time. It’s like he does it to feel some control or to feel some sort of freedom in his fucked up mind. Lying makes him feel like the bachelor without responsibility he can no longer be. If he lies about the little stuff, how am I suppose to think he’s not lying about the big stuff?!How does he expect me to feel? He’s figuring himself out?? Well so am I dammit. I carried us for years. Why can’t he do the same? Give me some time like I so generously have given him. An hour later he embraced me and told me he loves me so much. This man should have an apology button on speed dial. But I love him so much I am blinded by the bullshit. It’s all tortured artist fall out and for me it comes with the territory. This is a large reason I feel so connected with him and it makes everything else feel that much stronger and necessary to breathe. I’m addicted to it. I crave it to feel alive. This is what I turn into gold. This is how I bare my soul musically. I just need to consciously convert it again. I’m so close. If I had Jason or Jim to collaborate with it would be a non issue. When I hear the music it spills out of me. I know what to do. I know how to do it. This time I must make the music myself without knowing how to properly create it. This makes the process much longer and more difficult. But I will not give up. I get distracted by escape, but I will not give up. For the longest time, I would tell people I wanted to create music that reached deep into you chest cavity and pulled out your insides. It brought forth your reclusive soul from that deep place of hiding. Turning and churning, over taking reality and leaving everything else in its wake irrelevant. Muse, thy name is torment.