Blue on Black

Blind, oh, now I see
Truth, lies, and in between
Wrong, cant be undone
Oh slipped, from the tip of
Your tongue

Lyrics by Kenny Wayne Sheppard

Things are not going well for us this week. I agreed to let Joan's sister spend the week with us here at a family residence at a beach in southeastern South Carolina. All that has done is placed even more stress on me at least. I have finally excused myself to a local cafe to blog and clear the darkness that envelops every cell of my brain at the moment.

Joan and I laid awake in bed last night absolutely pissed off at each other. It doesn't matter that the explosive argument began over homemade salsa (or lack thereof). What matters is that the anger, frustration, emptiness, and grief that overwhelms us has not only bubbled over, it is hot boiling lava that flows from every word, thought, and deed between us.

When we return to Greenville we know we will begin the process of filing bankruptcy. Yes, the 900 pound gorilla in the room has finally been identified. It could very well be that we'll also be looking for a two-for-one deal from an attorney. "Can we get a deal if you handle our divorce as well?" I'm not joking.

If you read our post over at Hopeful Parents a few days ago we laid everything on the line for our readers. Maybe I should no longer allude to our problems - I'll spell it out. We have finally tapped out every single resource available to us. All of them: financial, emotional, even spiritual. The pain and humiliation of our situation has finally chipped away so effectively at our marriage that we have discussed (when we aren't battling) how we can seriously make things work apart from each other. We are in a sexless, loveless, lifeless relationship - the cupboard for all of those things is empty.

For so long we thought we could fight this together; at least we have each other. At the very least we have God. Nada. Why god chooses to ignore the pleas of some while fawning over the desires of others I will never figure out...nor forgive.

I've carried a banner of hope at this blog for several years now. It's time to lay it down and expose the part no one wants to see, the part no one wants to talk about. The 80 percent divorce rate. The number of exceptional families needing financial aid not getting it while "octomoms" get free nursing and a book deal. Ultimately the sky-rocketing suicide rate of caregivers who finally realize how far past empty they've gone.

As I type this we have exactly $160 to get us through the rest of the month (Joan filled up her van yesterday so my gas money to return home comes from that pot). Someone tell me how to stretch that out. And in regards to the loaves and fishes story? Tell Jesus to kiss my ass.