Posts Tagged ‘Mess’

Now that I’ve come clean about the whole marriage / divorce thing, it’s kind of like a weight has been lifted off me.. or the light at the end of the tunnel turned on.. because now, I just feel the freedom to really let you guys know what’s on my mind.

I had a lot of time to think tonight. Laundry night at the laundromat tends to be like that. Having nothing to do but watch front loaders do their thing while soundless televisions play shows WITHOUT the close captioning leaves little for mental stimulation or oblivion.

Bird usually accompanies me for some free therapy vent sessions but she has the mother of all head colds so I had to go it alone.

My brain is a dangerous territory to navigate when it’s alone with it’s thoughts.

Anyway… before I get into all that, let me give you some highlights of the past few days of my life:

  1. Remember Bubba and the cell phone thing? Well, his bill came in. All 53.00 of it due on October 23rd. Saturday when I left for work, his porky ass was sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket and his laptop. Before I left for the shop, I made sure the house was straight.. the bathroom clean and the kitchen spotless. When I came home, 7 hours later, Bubba was still in the same spot only my spotless kitchen was anything but. I told him to get off his ass and clean up the kitchen so it looks like the same way he found it because I wasn’t cooking dinner until he does. He didn’t do anything.. never got off his ass.. never even ATTEMPTED to do anything. Fine. After working 20-some odd hours, I didn’t want Chief to have to suffer for Bubba not doing what I asked him so I cleaned the kitchen.. cooked dinner.. and while we sat enjoying Grilled Rib Eye, Sauteed Mushrooms, Baked Potatoes and Broccoli I whipped out his cell phone bill, shoved it at him and told him that since he didn’t do what I wanted him to do I wasn’t paying his bill. He can enjoy his phone for the next 20 days but after that, oh fucking well. He just stared at me and before he could get a word out, I ripped it up.
  2. Spaz :: after doing tonight’s laundry :: is down TWO uniforms. Funny how he has them on when he goes to the Crack Whore’s on Friday and then comes home without them. But.. yknow.. she doesn’t have them. And let’s see, I need help spelling my first name, right? In fact, today he wore black pants to school. He came home late and I figured it was because the Crack Whore wasn’t home. He wasn’t in the house for no more then 15 minutes when she knocked on the door for him and he asked if he could go with her. I happened to be on the phone with Goober at the time so I told him yea, he could go but he had to change out of his school clothes first. He did.. leaving in a navy blue t-shirt with guitars on them. He came BACK wearing a yellow t-shirt saying that she wanted him to change it because the Navy one ( a size medium ) was too tight. No fucking shit. Your kid is like a 160+ pounds and wears a man’s 34 waist. AND HE’S ELEVEN. At any rate, guess what wasn’t in the laundry tonight? Yep.. black pants. Even though HE was the one that got the laundry hamper out of his room and I specifically told him to make sure he gave me everything.
  3. Tonight, since I’ve been trying to get the taxes together for the shop, Chief said that I didn’t have to worry about cooking.. that he would just order pizza. So guess what I came home to find? Pizza boxes all over the place, dirty dishes all over the place.. glasses all over the place.. the blankets that I had folded on the back of the couch all over the floor.. and the shop’s PS3 controller in the middle of the living room floor. I hope for fuck’s sake that the damn thing is broken. I really do. In fact, if I was the cold hearted bitch that everyone seems to think I am, I would break the damn thing myself.

So with all that going on.. and with Chief finally starting the ball rolling with his divorce, I got to thinking tonight… do I REALLY want to marry him?

Because, like now, the option is very real.

Before.. yea we had the little non-legal commitment ceremony… and yea, everyone thinks we’re married.. and yea, I use his last name but you know what? It’s easy to pretend those things when the whole legal aspect of it is not a possibility.

Let’s face it.. I always had my out. If I REALLY wanted to, I could walk out the door any time I damn well please because there nothing legally binding me here.

I never put my name on the lease.. the only bill in my name is the cable :: and fuck them, they can live without it :: and the cars are in my name. That’s it. I’m not even listed as co-owner of the store.

So if you get what I’m saying, him not being divorced allowed me to fantasize about the day when we would have the “real” wedding I never had knowing that it wasn’t going to happen. And knowing that it wasn’t going to happen afforded me the opportunity to put up with a lot of shit.

Now.. in about 90 days or so.. his divorce will be final and I know the first thing he’s going to want to do is head to the nearest justice of the peace and put the ring on my finger that I am now thinking of handcuffs.

Because then.. dear friends… THEN I will have no choice but put up with all this shit.. no options to just go if it gets too much to deal with.

So I have questions. Questions that only HE can answer but I honestly .. right now.. don’t think that he can be honest enough with himself to answer.

I’m not one to give ultimatums. In fact, I despise them.. but we’re talking about my life.. health and well-being here.. In fact, it’s pretty damn simple.

Figure out what the fuck you want. Honestly and from deep within your soul. Because if I’m what you want, then he’s going to have to man up.. let the hair grow back on his balls and release the testosterone when it comes to the Crack Whore. I’m not playing this shit no more and I have a deep seated suspicion that this is how it went with all his other relationships. Because, if he’s being honest with himself and I’M being honest with MYself I think that everything I blog about is the same damn thing that has happened time and time again and I think part of him is just waiting. Waiting for the same thing to happen again.

If that’s the case, then I really don’t have his heart. Only part of it.. and I deserve it all. I’m too good a person.. too good a partner.. too good a woman to put up with any less.

When I came home tonight and saw the destruction that was my house, I let loose my dogs of war and started cleaning things up .. banging the whole way.. slamming the dishes in the cabinet.. throwing the silverware into the drawers so that they clanged louder then Quazimoto’s sanctuary bell. I shoved furniture around so that it made that nails-on-blackboard screeching noise on the wood floors and I think I probably broke a glass or two in the process.

I stomped in my bedroom to get my laptop.. rousing Chief from his slumber in the process..

“Leese.. honey?.. What’s the matter? Is everything alright?”

I wanted to say, “.. no, you simple ass dense mother fucker” but I didn’t. I wanted to tell him that I was leaving and was going to go stay at my mom’s since she’s away at my brother’s because I just can’t stand to be in this house a second longer. I just said “no” .. and “go back to sleep”.¬† But in a forceful way.

And he did. Go back to sleep.

Which.. even though you may think I afforded him a pass.. is actually a good thing because one thing I do know about myself is when I’m like this, I go for the jugular and it’s best to not say things that you can’t take back.

My father always told me that words are like nails in wood. You can take the nail out but it still leaves a hole.

I don’t want to leave holes.. what I want is to sit down calmly and have a conversation about our future and what I require as a person to live my life without creating 1500 word blogs at 1am because I’m pissed.

… so I come home from the shop around 2 hours ago with the intent of gathering and sorting the clothes for laundry.

I normally go on Sunday’s but since Chief and I have a party to go to tomorrow afternoon, I figured I’d get it out of the way tonight so that the only thing I have to worry about tomorrow is getting the birthday gifts.

The party is at 2 so I should have plenty of time.. if not, the mall in on my way to the event so I can always just run in there.

I know.. I know.. “Last Minute” should be my last name but what can I tell you.. I do my best work under a deadline! LOL

Anyway… so I walk into the house through the back door. I normally use the front but since I really didn’t want to hear the dogs going absolutely insane because I was gone so long, I snuck in the back!

Well.. surprise, surprise, surprise!

The back door opens into the kitchen and the 10 or 12 plates that were piled high in it.. along with glasses and knives and forks.. the counter was a mess with crumbs and mustard and whatever else and there was a cookie sheet propped between the window and the spigot.

Bubba was in the dining room on the computer with his friend.. and Spaz was laying like the little prince that he thinks he is on the sofa.

Because it’s still humid as shit out, the first thing I smelled when I walked through the dining room on my way to the living room was dog piss.

OOOMPH!

I noticed that there was a puddle of piss between both rooms and that the dogs had did more then their business on the front porch.

And they both just sat there. Sat THERE and sat in the STENCH. Ceiling fans were off.. box fans were off.

I mean really… how fucking STUPID can you be?

Well.. one of them insists on wearing flannel pj’s so we’re not talking about Einsteins here.

When asked about the sink.. both immediately started pointing to each other and Spaz’s excuse for not washing the cookie sheet was because he didn’t know HOW.

So.. um.. .what about all the other dishes? And the utensils? What about THAT, Bucky?? Huh? HUH?

I told him to get away from me.. and started cleaning the sink.. then sorting the laundry.

He insisted on helping until my head grew to the size of a hot air balloon and my face turned green…

I told him to go in the other room and he started whining that he “… just wanted to help.”

WHAT ABOUT HELPING ME BEFORE I GET HOME???? HOW MANY TIMES TO WE HAVE TO GO OVER THIS???

He tried pulling his little violin act but I really didn’t care.

Once the laundry was sorted, I cleaned the bathroom .. cleaned and mopped the front porch.. cleaned and mopped the living room and dining room.

All with Pine Sol.

ORIGINAL scented Pine Sol.

MORE THEN THE RECOMMENDED AMOUNT of original scented Pine Sol.

Personally, I love the smell of it :: although I may have used a little too much this time because I think I feel woozy :: but the kids HATE it.

Smells like an old person’s home, they complain.

You know what?

OH.

FUCKING.

WELL.

Smells better then dog piss on a humid day, don’t you think?

Anyway.. so now I’m sitting under the air conditioner in my bedroom trying to cool off because I was literally a puddle of sweat. I even had to take my glasses off half way through because they kept on sliding off my nose.

Chief woke me up Monday morning right before he left for work which was just as well because by then, I couldn’t stand being near him. Everything he did.. or didn’t do.. or said.. or didn’t’ say I manipulated in my mind.

I got ready for work and didn’t wake the boys up until I was ready to walk out the door. I couldn’t handle them either .. espcially considering how they left the dining room table.

I get to the shop and he was mopping. So I just grabbed a cup of coffee.. told him I’d talk to him later and left. Just being in the same room with him was making me buggy.

I was weepy all during the drive to work.. in work.. during break and the beginning of lunch. I knew I really couldn’t deal with this anymore so even though he was at the shop, I called him.

He said that the nurse had called and Spaz was there with a low grade fever.. probably running around too much or whatever.. so I was like, “yea. I guess”

He asked if anything was wrong and I told him I was having a bad day.. that

I wasn’t doing good.. that I was hanging by a thread. He asked what he was doing wrong.. just tell him because he didn’t want me to be sad..

And then a customer walked in. He said he would call me right back and he did.. about 10 minutes later.

I started to tell him the things that were on my mind but another customer came in.

He said he would call me back again, but this time he didn’t right away. About an hour or so went by and when he finally DID call back he told me that he had just had it out with the Crack Whore. She had gone up to the school to pick up Spaz and she called and said something about his odor and calling CYS :: Child Youth Services ::

NOTE: CYS is like DHS :: Dept of Human Services :: it’s the organization people call when there is child endangerment.

I went fucking ballastic. I was like WHAT?? He said he told her that Spaz takes a shower every night and he puts clean clothes on in the morning so he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

I told him, “.. yea, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t take a shower when he’s told to.. God knows where he got his clothes this morning because I wasn’t home.”

I then told him to make no mistake about it, CYS was coming to the house. There’s already one strike against it from January because of Bubba’s room. I said I’ve been telling him.. been telling the boys that something like this was going to happen. I only ONE person.. nobody listens to what I say.. nobody does what I ask them to do.. etc. etc. etc.

He got real quiet. He said he didn’t know what to do. I said, “.. guess I’m going to have to take care of it.

Another customer came in so he hung up.

I couldn’t sit still at my desk. All I kept thinking about was that the bathroom was a hazard area.. that the kitchen was probably wrecked because they were the last one’s home.. that if the dog pooped, they probably walked right over it on the way out the door.

But more then that.. I am an adult in that house. I may not have any legal say regarding the kids but I am an adult in that house. Any charges filed would also be filed against ME and I’ll be fucking damned if I was going to get a child endangerment charge for kids that weren’t mine ESPECIALLY because I’ve been on them and on them and on them and ON them.

I call Chief and tell him that I’m on my way to the house.. he asks if I can stop at the shop first because he would really like that.. I tell him, yknow, I’ll probably wind up losing my job for leaving the way I did.

I didn’t know if that was all together true or not but it is a possibility.

I get to the shop and he hugs me.. burying his head deep in my shoulder without saying anything. I know he’s feeling something but I dont know what and to perfectly honest, I didn’t care. I said to him that I’ve had just about enough of this nonsense.. that I wasn’t going to get into trouble for HIS kids especially because I am after them and after them and after him to pick up after themselves and be responsible.

What could he say but “I know”?

So I went home and made sure everything was the way it was suppose to be.. except the boys’ rooms. THEY were doing that.

Bubba was the first one in.. he asked me why I was home and handed me my keys that I had left in the door.

I told him about what happened with Spaz and school and that his bedroom better be cleaner then when he first moved in. That if the state took them, they would probably eventually go with their mother :: maybe :: but until then, they’d be in foster care.

He went upstairs and did what he had to do. He said something about Spaz being a douchebag and I told him that he was just as bad… starting with HIS room and finishing with his grades. He asked if Chief was going to be pissed when he came home and I told him that it was a safe bet. He said that he didn’t know if he wanted to come home for dinner and I told him he’d have to come home sometime… he asked if he could go out with his friends and I said yea primarily because I really didn’t want him hanging around.

So he left and about an hour or so later, Spaz comes in.

And I LET.HIM.HAVE.IT

I told him that I knew all about his little act of going to the nurse when he doesn’t feel like being in class.. being told what to do.. acting out.. and because of that he’s going to rip this family apart…

He tried to defend himself.. with more lies, of course.. but I wasn’t hearing any of it. I told him to go into his room and clean it better then when HE first moved in and I got met with mumbling about how long it was going to take him.. and started kicking his bedroom door.

I was in MY bedroom and flew down the hallway and started yelling at him about that being MY door.. and when HE starts working and paying rent then he can kick whatever he wants to be.. he made some smart ass remark and I punched the bathroom door.

Yea. You read right. I punched the bathroom door. Hard. AND told him that he didn’t know how bad I could do that to his face.

Now.. BEFORE YOU START PROTESTING.. that was the first time that I EVER raised my voice to him. That’s not how I handle him. But you know what? He deserved it. Obviously, right or wrong, that’s what he responds to and he needed to understood what serious consequences were going to fall because of what he was doing. He needed to know how pissed I was and how very close I was to leaving.

I told them the same as I told their father.. I’m not getting charged for child endangerment for kids that aren’t mine and don’t listen to a damn word I say.

He went into his room and started cleaning it.

I called Chief and told him what had happened and he said “Good, he deserves it.”

Chief came home with pizza and after dinner, I just went into my room. Honestly, I don’t even remember falling asleep. But I do remember my last thought…

My needs.. thoughts.. feelings.. get pushed aside once again.

There was a huge catering order that was going to picked up at 10am so I didn’t have much of a choice but to get up early and help Chief at the shop.

I wasn’t in the best of moods :: obviously :: and was exhausted from not getting a lot of sleep and the REASON I didn’t get a lot of sleep.

I’m not the best morning person to begin with so I think Chief attributed my mood to that plus the hectic morning.

I had every intention of talking to him .. I did .. but the shop is NOT the place to do it. Either a customer walks in and interrupts OR there is just too many diversions if he needs one :: sodas needed to be restocked.. etc.. :: so I had to wait.

The Crack Whore winds up calling around 11 and there is some kind of conversation that again, I’m not privy to. All I’m told is that she will pick Spaz up at 2pm.

Spaz had logged into the PS3 at home so I sent him a message from the store’s PS3 telling him to get into the shower because I didn’t know what time the Crack Whore was picking him up and he needed to be ready.

NOTE: I told him that because if I gave him the actual time, he would wait until the last minute.

I told Chief that I would go home around noon to make sure he was ready.. had clothes packed :: he was supposedly staying over night :: and make sure he was showered, teeth brushed, etc.

Chief mentions something about going to one of our favorite restaurants for dinner since we would be “kid-less” but I turned him down. I blamed the cost factor but in reality, I just didn’t want to go. I didn’t think I could pretend to have a good time and I didn’t want to be miserable.

So I head home and the house was a wreck. In the … oh, I don’t know, 5 hours that Spaz was by himself, the kitchen was a mess from the eggs he made himself :: leaving the oven flame on AGAIN :: glasses, plates, utensils, pop tart wrappers… disgusting.

I asked him if he had taken a shower and he said he had.. he had clean clothes on and honestly, I was just SO po’d about the house that I just went right into “Clean” mode just to avoid him.

I told him to get his clothes together because he was spending the night with her and he pulled a little hissy fit saying that nobody ever asks him what he wants to do. I through the forks in the sink with force and said, “… do you think MAYBE your father and I would like a night alone????”

He didn’t say anything after that and just as I was finishing up Chief called and said he needed me down at the shop.. he was swamped.

So I drove down there and jump in waiting on customers. Not too happy but yknow, it’s my shop too.

A little while later, Spaz called wanting to talk to his father. Obviously, she had picked him up and I find out by Chief’s end of the conversation that Spaz wanted to know if he needed a fishing license.

The store calms down and about 4, I was in the back playing Call of Duty when the phone rang. He answered and I heard him say something like, “.. they don’t like turkey just give them [didn’t hear].” I figured it was the Crack Whore and wow.. she doesn’t know what her kid likes to eat.. go figure.

I go back to playing my game expecting him to come back into the kitchen but instead he starts slicing lunch meat. I go out to the front and he’s cutting meat that we use in sandwiches. I ask him if he was cutting for prep and he said no that the Crack Whore put an order in that she was going to pick up and how much he “.. hates that cunt.”

Well.. if you HATED her so much then ban her from the store. Don’t sell her stuff. To me, it’s that simple. But we’ve had this discussion before and you know, it never ends good because all he does is make bullshit excuses and I get aggravated.

NOTE: I am under the firm belief that the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference. If you hate someone, you still have an emotion for them. As hard as it is for me to accept.. as hard for me to understand how you can still feel something for a woman who fucked up your life.. your kids lives.. and continues to do so is beyond me but it is what it is.

All I know is that I was making myself scarce. I didn’t want to be in the same county as her let alone the same store so I told him I was taking off to go shopping. He said something like “… you’re going to leave me here alone?” and I was like, “yep” .. grabbed my handbag and started to walk out. He called out “.. I love you” and I just raised my hand over my head as if to say, “.. yep. I heard you.”

So away I went.. drowning my sorrows in retail therapy. I bought 3 pairs of capris, 3 shirts and a really cute pair of sandles.

When I finally got back to the store, I assumed she had already been there but he didn’t say anything about it and I didn’t ask.

We closed up shop a half hour earlier.. grabbed some Chinese take out and went home to an empty house with no kids.

Taking advantage of that.. we watched two movies. “An American Carole” .. which was really funny if your political tendencies favor the right wing and “The Uninvited”. THAT was a phenomenal movie. Honest. It was. Really. You should watch it.

Afterwards we played a few rounds of Call of Duty and then went to bed.

My dad used to call me Weeble.

weebleFor those of you who don’t know, a Weeble was an egg-shaped toy that were designed to look like people.

I remember there was a cowboy, there was the grocery store owner.. and they had al different kinds of “villages” and “sets”.

Their slogan was “Weebles’ Wobble But They Don’t Fall Down…”

And that was me.. then and now. Knock me over and I’ll get right back up. Slower sometimes then others.. but I will get back up.

But yknow.. a person can only be “SO” strong.. can only shoulder so much.. can only tolerate so much before they reach their brink and need something to help them cope.

That “something” could be “anything” .. it could be going for a run or retail therapy or venting to friends or a joint, a needle, a square bottle with the intials JD.

In my case, it was a razor. Or a paper clip. Or a pin. Or a dried out pen. Or a fork tine. Or an earring post.

Anything relatively sharp enough to carve through enough layers of derma to produce a ribbon of red and releave all the steam from the pressure cooker that is my mind.

I talked about self mutiliation and being a “cutter” briefly before. It’s not something I’m particulary proud of but not necessarily something I go to great lengths to hide. It’s one of those things that just “is”.

But… like being a junkie or an alcoholic, make no mistake it is an addiction. I’m actually not quite sure that the rest of the psych community agrees with me on that but for me it was.. and still is.

I think it’s realively safe to say that junkies and alcoholics become addicted to escape from some demon beating their brain. They want to numb. Escape.

Cutting doesn’t numb you. Cutting doesn’t alter your mental capabilities. For me, what cutting did was take all the weight off my chest so that I could breath again. It was like all the pain, dispear and angst flowed out of my body with the blood.

We’re not talking artery-gushing here. Usually, it barely bled enough to stain a tissue but that wasn’t the point. The objective wasn’t to make a bloody mess.. The objective wasn’t :: ISNT :: to end one’s life..

It’s hard to convey the feeling and emotion properly because the concept of self mutilation is so misunderstood and disdainful.

And I’m not saying that “Cutting” CANT escalte to something more.. I’m sure just like drugs or booze there comes a point where a person NEEDS MORE.

Alright.. so why am I getting into all this?

Just like a recovering alcohol or drug addict, I fight the urge to cut every day. You read about my life.. I don’t hold back so you have a really good representation of what my life is daily.

I’ve been able to ignore the need up until now but it’s getting harder. And right now, IMSOTHISCLOSE.

I can’t say that it’s any one thing in particular…

Yes, yesterday Bubba didn’t have any clean school pants to wear because he never put them in the laundry hamper..

Yes, Chief told him that he’s going to have to wear dirty clothes to school because of it…

Yes, he was suppose to take his clothes down from his room yesterday and no, he didn’t.

Yes, he told Chief yesterday that there was a school trip today that he didn’t want to go on and so he wanted to stay home from school…

No, Chief wouldn’t allow it only because he kept the trip a secret until the last minute…

Yes, Bubba slept on the couch again last night…

and yes, he probably didn’t go to school…

No, I didn’t call the school to verify..

Yes, I want to.

I’m struggling to keep my head above water. I’m dealing with a needle plowing into the back part of my brain with that little voice that keeps saying that I’M the only one bending.. I’M the only one doing what I don’t want to do, namely live in a pigsty.. I’M the one compromising and lowering my standard and bending and tolerating and sucking it up. I’M the one forced to hold my shit together because nobody could really give a fuck. I’m the one that has more balls and a sturdier spine then Chief. HE’s the one full with the “.. what do you want me to do..” excuse.. I’m the one that had to swallow my dreams and hopes and wishes.. I’m the one that cries myself to sleep at night while they all are in bliss.

You cannot believe how deep I’m breathing right now and how hard I’m biting my lip just typing all that.. and how desperately I want to take a paper clip and cut myself.

I know that is SO not a healthy thing. Don’t get me wrong.. I am in no way trying to justify the act or the thought of the act .. because cutting it’s the issue. The issue is what makes someone want to do that and that’s what needs to be addressed.

Right now I feel like a mime squeezed into a little glass box .. desperately trying to find a way out.

I’m torn because I know that the fastest way to rectification is to walk out the door. But that’s almost a coward’s way out… just walking away.

I want to fight for this love I have.. for this highly dysfunctional family.. but I can’t do it myself.. it’s not all MY problem.

Another instance.

The :: notice I didn’t say “MY” :: electric / gas bill was a little over 2500.00.. this because there wasn’t money to pay the bill because the house money was being used for the shop.

About three weeks ago, after receiving a 10 day shut off notice, we paid 2050.00 of it. We had until the 5th to pay the balance but.. guess what? Didn’t get paid.

So last night we when we got home, the electricity had been turned off. There had been no 10 day .. 5 day .. 3 day turn off notification from the utility company. Just CLICK.. you’re off.

They DID however put a letter in the door saying that they turned off the power for failure to pay the back balance of 825.00 :: something like that ::.

That figure representing the past due plus the current month.

Chief was able to turn it back on.. he’s been in the situation more times then he hasn’t been :: this way before me :: but it still has to get paid.

So I asked him last night about it and he was like, “… how the HELL can the bill be that high when nobody is home?”

I looked at him like, “… you’re kidding, right?”

I reminded him that Spaz leaves his tv on ALL night.. Bubba’s light hasn’t been turned off for MONTHS :: I’m waiting for the damn bulb to blow out and I’m not giving him another one :: .. the flat screen tv is ALWAYS left on and that eats up alot of electricity. The kitchen light is always left on.. they turn the heat up to 90 and then open all the windows because it’s too hot… I mean.. WHAT THE FUCK???

We can’t afford to have bills this high… I can’t stomach another “ I FORGOT “…

I’ll pull the goddamn cable / internet and sell the damn PS3 if I have to because this is just ridiculous.

And the thing is.. I know.. KNOW.. that there won’t be a united from between me and Chief and the boys because he can never hold up his end of the bargain. He can’t be tough.. he won’t do it.. he’ll get to that point and then back down.

And this.. thinking of all these things.. is what’s pulling me to take a razor to my arm or thigh or ankle or stomache just to let some of this pressure go.

I don’t want to walk down that road again because it is a slippery slope. So I’m going to call over to the mental health place and see if I can get an appointment tonight.

And if there’s one thing I have to say is that it’s NOT about having things MY way.. it’s not about ME letting go.. it’s about how I want to live my life.. what standards I have and what I’m not willing to accept.

The Weeble is wobbling.. bad.. and even though it won’t fall down, it just might roll off the table.