Thats how it feels.
everything is out of control. My relationship is falling apart.
All my time and energy are on this fucking incident with the kids. He doesnt understand what it did to me. I dont even really understand.
And now I’m right back to being a loser with no job. No matter what I do. He doesnt want me anymore. 😦
I dont want me anymore. 
I dont like me. Not that I ever really did but now….
Now..I hate me.
I hate this person I have become.
How did we get here? How did it all go to shit?
How did I fuck up again so much?
I know I’m the common denominator. I’ve always been to blame for it all. Nothings changed. I always will be i suspect.
I guess i’ve just always had this vision of, well, not perfect bu perfect for me, for us. But if this is as good as it gets then I dont think Ill survive it.
Is this it? Is this as good as it gets?
I love my therapist and I love that she’s given me lots of tools to use with the kids but I feel like I’m not really getting to the root of the problem. ME!! I guess I’m just now realizing that I’m the problem not the solution. Even though I know that the exes had tons of problems and I’ve always blamed them, I now know I was just as much, if not more, to blame. But why?
What choice led me in that direction all those years ago. And when exactly did my entire life turn to shit?
Even through an awful 1st marriage, I had my oldest son and all was ok with my world. Then my husband turned out to be a crack-cocaine addict and destroyed our marriage and our family.
everything got worse from there. I’m not at all proud of a lot of the choices I made. I just wish I could do over.
randomramblingmom 
I don’t know you. I don’t know your problems, diagnoses, or history. But I read your post, and I see your screenname, and in all that, I see a mirror.
I’m ashamed of everything I am about to write.
I have a son who is 8 years old. I have been mentally ill the majority of my life (as far back as I have memory, so it might as well be lifelong), and when my father passed away 4 years ago, what would have already been classified as severe major depression turned into a blackness I had never known, not even when I had attempted suicide years before. I literally lived in my garage for 2 years after his death, listening to music, watching tv, smoking, and crying. I was perpetually high, and even that didn’t numb my agony. My husband and mother had to be my son’s primary caretakers. I slept on a couch in the garage, waking up with bugs on me or hearing the rustling of mice. Sometimes I had to be walked to the bathroom like an elderly person; sometimes I couldn’t even be coaxed into walking to the bathroom and I would sit in my own waste until someone came out to the garage and would help clean me up. If they hadn’t fed me, I wouldn’t have eaten.
It took 2 years to drag myself from the garage into my bedroom. And now I sit here, on this bed, for most of my existence. I get up to go to the bathroom. I occasionally get up to get something from across the room. I manage to make it in to my small business about 1/2 of our business days. And for half of my son’s life now, he’s seen more of the door to my room as he knocks on it wanting to see me, than he has seen of me.
Things have finally gotten to where he comes in my room almost every single day for at least an hour or so. Sometimes we’ll manage multiple hours, sometimes my anxiety will spike after fifteen minutes, and I have to try to explain to an 8 year old that his mommy is sick in a way that he really just can’t understand.
Your problems may be the root of some of the problems with your kids. But your problems are not you. And from what I’m reading, you are trying, you are seeking tools to help yourself and them. That’s all you can do. Keep fighting, keep trying. And give yourself a bit of a break, a bit of compassion, and a bit of understanding. You’re not going to get it right all at once. But one day at a time, you can rebuild practically anything.
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Instead of blaming myself for my bad decisions, I try to learn from them. Oh sure, there’s always a period of time that I tell myself how stupid I was and all that, but I always try to follow those thoughts with how I can do better the next time. We shouldn’t feel bad about making mistakes — we can’t learn without them. 🙂
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