I am not well mentally. I don't feel like I can talk about it either because I am supposed to be ok. No one really realizes how close I was to a nervous break down at one point while we lived at Mama's. The times I have tried to open up I feel like no one wants to hear it or like people think that I should just get over it. I feel like my feelings are minimized. I have been told so much that I should just be grateful for what I have that I find it easier to try to lock everything up inside. It's eating at me. Slowly. Who I am is being destroyed.Â
I hate myself for so many reasons. So much I have done wrong. So much I have failed at. My guilt eats away at me. Throw that on top of watching my mother destroy herself over the years and then living through that hell the past 2. Watching not only her slowly slip away to the point of taking her own life I had to watch my family, slip away. My relationship with my wife has suffered. It's not the same. We both stay on the defensive not wanting to share what's bothering us. So many times I want to cry but I can't. I am not supposed to. I am supposed to be fine. I am supposed to continue in my life nothing happened. Like I just didn't watch my mama suffer for the past 2 years while I tried to save her but couldn't. She left me. She left here thinking that I was just being mean to her. She left here thinking that I had her put in the psych unit because I wanted her to go away. I didn't get to say goodbye. I don't know if she knows I am sorry. Because I am sorry. I am a sorry individual.Â
 I can't grieve because everyone expects me to be ok. I have to go to work like nothing is wrong. I have to go places like nothing is wrong. I am expected to go to her house like nothing is wrong. I am not ok. I am a mess. I am barely making it through each day. I feel alone. I feel alone because I don't feel like anyone cares how I feel. I am heartbroken. I feel like my heart has been slowly ripped out over the past couple of years.