I will not go gently into that good night

The unending silence is deadening. I have tried to contact our children and our friends whom live in the area, anyone. It seems my spouse has chosen to try to turn as many people against me as possible.

As I stood in the silence of our home, staring at the empty walls, I broke down and cried yet again. I am brought to wonder if it will ever get easier, or if this is all there will be.

The unending silence is deadening… and I am tired of living under the manipulation of others. I have decided to try to give myself a voice, to drain the madness away by recording it all. Perhaps those that I care so much about will eventually read these words and understand my pain.

As I think more upon the prospect, I am overcome with anxiety once again. That I should need to do such things to have a voice. That my voice can so easily be taken away. That so many whom are so close are also so easily guided by a sense of righteousness. Righteousness, which requires no effort, no thought, no understanding, no conversations. Righteousness, with its swift judgement, and little justice.

It will be a simple thing, a simple site, the one I am writing in now. I will revisit all my notes, all my memories, and create new posts, day by day, event by event. The home page will track the current state of finances and orders an graphs and any and all relivant data. I will create historical pages, writing up memories of my life; a puzzle, a weave, a maze.

I am overcome with nausia at realizing that I must revisit it all, moment by moment. Oh how simple it would be to just roll over and accept the beatings once again, just wait for it to pass. Never before have I felt such violence directed at me from simple silence.