Archive for September, 2018

Two girls.

Tonight, I have two daughters under one roof. And it feels amazing.

Even with the constant bickering, it was good. I felt almost complete.

My youngest is a cuddler which is nice. Except that it reminded me of someone that I wished that I could have shared the girls with.

I guess I am meant to live with that pain. I am not meant to feel that safety of a male counterpart. Oh well.

We unpacked, went searching for things, (I so sick of moving), and saw a movie.


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No recovering.

This week has been a shitshow.

I stopped at walgreens to pick up a massager because, yeah it has been that kind of week.

It isn’t enough to have an oddly shaped box. It isn’t enough that there are weird people there on a Friday night.

OF COURSE the church secretary who I haven’t seen in a year, recognizes me. OF COURSE she is going to check out behind me. And OF COURSE the clerk makes mention of the items I have for purchase.

The only 50 shades happening this evening is my red face. O.M.G.

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I am notoriously hard on myself. Like, no one can possibly be harder on me, than me.

Lately, getting my teeth kicked in has been the order of the day. But I realized today, this time, it isn’t me. It isn’t me who is inept, cowardly, manipulative, it is her. I guess I got so used to always falling short that I didn’t even bother to stick up for mySelf. I know, boo hoo.

I got so frustrated that I went to a bar. I never go to a bar. Its not my scene. I was so overdressed it wasn’t even funny. I met an awesome chic there, and we swapped stories and laughs. And she made a great point; sometimes, it isn’t you. It really is them.

Sometimes you are the smartest chic/dude in the room. And it is ok to see that.

Own you.

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It has been a ball buster week and if I was a guy, mine would be black and blue.

Idk, what has been the hardest, doing the work of four people and sucking at it? Or sucking at life in general?

I have impossible standards for myself. I know it. Everyone who knows me pretty much knows it. There is nothing, absolutely nothing more humiliating than failing at a simple task. And then being ridiculed for being incompetent.

And then you….

I can’t get you out of my head. You have been there all week and you probably know it.

I don’t understand. I just don’t get why. Why you don’t take that risk. Why you won’t allow yourself to open that door.

Maybe having an ex-spouse with major health events makes me reckless. If that is the case, don’t listen to me. Love is the most terrifying thing I have ever experienced. And I am no expert. Gasp*

This is different. You see me. And I terrify you. I get that, its pretty much a normal reaction to me. But you see me. And that terrifies me.

I knew you read this a long time ago but I thought you moved on to God knows what. I gave up on dating because it was a shit show, but more of the underlying issue is that I love you. I knew the second that I saw you that you were it. I was done looking.

I am sorry. It is you. Whether you like it or not, (I suspect not). I love you and there isnt a fucking thing you can do about it. Maybe you have moved on and if you have, obviously it is working out for you and I wish you every happiness.

If not………

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Night 3 at the new digs..

Pretty sure every place I am going to live at for the rest of my live will convince my kids that that bldg is haunted. Every last one.

It doesnt matter where I live, they always, ALWAYS report the ghosts are alive and well.


On the upside, the air conditioning is a lovely new thing to experience. Peeling off the covers, or papers off of my sweaty skin has been the norm for the last several months so even having a blanket on my bed was not an option.

Stairs are the bane of every apt and home. Period. (I could barely make it down the stairs at all yesterday). I hate moving. It is miserable. I am living here until I die.

I have a refrigerator that makes ice. How cool is that?!?!?!

The downside is that loneliness is even more prevalent and painful here. It is front and center. Drama has its place in distracting you from your pain and heartache. When you remove it, all that is left are the gaping scars in your heart.

The same questions and problems are still sitting there. Unanswered. All the why’s and what-ifs from the last time you failed at any semblance of normality.

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“I am so excited to meet you tomorrow for dinner! I even got a pedicure from a little asian lady so my toes are all ready for you!”

Ummmm. Bye Felicia.

I am done with dating. I can’t do it. I have met too many weirdos and one guy that I truly loved. It isn’t meant to be.

I am better at accounting. Better at being a mom (which I suck at). And better at being a human than I am at putting myself in a vulnerable position to be rejected or hurt. And at best, weirded the fuck out.

I may be technically on the market, but I am tired of the market.

I just want to be myself and not have someone hating me for who I can’t be. Or loving me for my gas or my feet. WEIRDOS!!!!! Omg!!

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