Dear Diary,
Looks like it has been since December when I wrote last.  I haven't had very much good to say is probably why. 

I have a children's book for school to write.  It is to be about a child and how they are special (positive).  It is due Tuesday and I have not started on it.  It is because I don't feel special, I feel exactly the opposite.  It is hard to write about an emotion or something up lifting when you don't feel it. 

Again today I was told I was wrong and the children's morale is a direct result of the way I treat them.  Again I was told that I treat the young man that we took in in August better than my own children and the kids have told me I love him more.  They are so wrong.  I do expect more out of my children because they are mine.  The son says I am always nagging him and mean to him.  All he does is play video games on his computer, he will not clean his room, put his clean clothes away, shower without being told, help with the dishes or even do his homework so he will pass high school.  I get so tired of reminding him, asking him and telling him that yes I am crabby and nag him.  The daughter says I bother her too much when she is not home and I call and text her because she has not checked in with me when she is out and that I make her do work at home.  They both say I don't make the boy we took in do anything.  I do, the difference is he does not talk back to me, if I ask he does, end of story.  Many times he does things around the house without being asked.  He talks to me with respect and disgust or aggravation like my own children do. 

I don't even know how to approach the problems with the husband.  He can't wait to get home for a visit every 2 to 4 weeks, but it is just for Saturday and half of Sunday.  But when he gets here he tells me how unhappy he is with me all at the same time telling me how much he misses me, us.  We have a very, very small house for 5 people to be living in, but it is all we have.  So when he comes home he is not used to having 2 dogs, 1 cat, 3 children and a wife all in the same space.  He gets angry from feeling claustrophobic and crowded.  I know this but he thinks I don't. 

My heart is broken, it really is. 

My whole life, all 51+ years of it, I have been depressed and felt like if there was something wrong with something or someone or if others were upset, that it was my fault for what ever was wrong.  Today was no different.  It is my fault my children are miserable, It all must be true.  It must always have been true.  I am who I am though and I guess no one loves me enough to accept that.  My explanation for how I feel is foolish and stupid, so I am wrong again.   My parents and one of my sisters and her family go out to lunch once a week, was I and my kids ever invited?  No.  The sister out of town talks to the other one almost weekly, sometimes daily, does she call me? No.  Is she available to listen to my problems when I call her? No. 

My mom told me when I was little about how I was dying at 5 weeks old of dehydration and malnutrition because of the muscle that pushes food into your stomach was working in reverse.  I was taken to the hospital and the doctors did emergency surgery on me to save my life.  My mom told me I ruined her life and that I was an embarrassment to her because I was always overweight.  At her mom's 90th birthday party she did not even introduce me to people I did not know, she only introduced my other two sisters as her children.  If I had a problem as a teen or adult she told me she didn't want to hear about it, it was my problem.  So she never knew I was raped twice and abused emotionally by my ex-husband.  Dad was always on the road working during the week until I was 14, so never knew or saw any of this.  And even after 14 he was working a lot and I just did not go to him.  I went to no one. 

The kids blame me for there father moving and not taking us.  Probably is my fault.  He said he was going on his own at first and then we would join him if he did not get transferred or laid off.  Well he moved again with work.  Still the kids blame me.  The children are miserable because I am always nagging them to do things around the house and their father is gone. 

Okay fine, it is all my fault.  All of your problems are my fault, I caused them, don't love you enough, care for others more, what ever or how ever anyone wants to say it.  It is all Angie's fault, I am the only one responsible for all the bad things in your world.  I have been blamed and made responsible for everything that is not right since I was 5 weeks old, so fine I can take it.  I will take the blame, I will preach how people need to be accepted for who they are and how they are, but I will not expect anyone to ever accept me for who and how I am, because it is always my fault and I am always wrong. 

No I don't expect anyone to read this, not at all.  Why?  Because I am wrong, always will be and who cares about someone that is always wrong.  So when the kids move out they don't have to talk to me ever, that is their choice, the husband can do the same if that is what he wants.  I only want them to be happy with their lives and themselves.  Because I don't matter. I have failed at teaching my kids, I have failed (twice now) at being a wife, I failed at being a daughter a long time ago, at being a sister, a cousin, a granddaughter, a friend, a daughter in law a neighbor.  I am no good at any of it apparently. 

Yes my heart is broken and it's no big deal.  Happens all the time, because I am always wrong.