Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Just insert my name instead of Alex’s up there, and switch day for… I dunno, year? And I feel it’d be right on point with my life instead of a cute little children’s book.
I’ve just felt like giving up lately, for no reason in particular. I mean I could think of a few, but I really don’t want to, because then… Oh great, now I’m tearing up. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid.
I don’t know if this whole blogging thing is for me anymore. Every time I come to write I find myself digging deeper and deeper and honestly you guys I have very little left.
Not in the way of stories or life, shit I have tons of crazy shit that y’all still have’t heard about. But I’m talking emotionally. Mentally. I think I’m spent. I think I’ve given all that I want to give. Bared all of my soul that I can.
I come here and I just lay it out. I hold nothing back, if I’m thinking something, and I feel I can’t discuss it elsewhere (which is basically everything) I write it here. But in the past sharing my thoughts so openly and freely in any capacity was unheard of for me. It’s not how I operated. So now, I’m feeling so different, having an outlet, that it’s become unnerving.
I’m literally having to stop typing every few seconds because I’m bawling at my desk right now. And I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because, like Pavlov’s dog, I’ve trained my body to realized that coming to write is a time of release. Or maybe, something that’s more true, I’ve realized the disappointment I now feel in myself.
I’ve been through a lot with you, my readers.
I’ve let you into the schmozle of my ongoing divorce (yes, still ongoing, probably forever ongoing at E’s rate). I’ve told you about my abusive past relationship. You’ve heard about my plight as a single parent. You’ve gained insight on how I choose to raise my kids. You know about my struggle with my undiagnosed/rare form of epilepsy. You read as I lost 40+ pounds and got a personal trainer (I think that post got deleted, but it happened). You followed my adventures across the globe and back, with a paranoid schizophrenic husband. I invited you into my many one night stands because I have major trust issues. You’ve followed along as I let one particular one night stand continue… into a non-relationship/relationship of almost a year and a half that’s going nowhere, yet we love each other… Oh but not that way (yeah I’m just as confused). You know my triumphs within my job and career. We’ve had racial discussions, and you know my family issues. You know about when I was raped and my hatred for mice.
Yet despite these examples of things that I’ve shared, of things I’ve overcome… I feel like this past year has been a waste.
I’m 30 years old now. I’m not even officially a ‘single’ mother of two, since E still hasn’t done shit all with the divorce (his newest excuse is that he owes his lawyer too much money and so he can’t go see him until he has the cash… FUCK why do you think you owe him so much genius? ‘Cause you book so many hours with him!!! JUST SIGN THE DAMN PAPERS AND BE DONE!!!) Anyways, I’m still driving my shitty car I hate. Still not dating anyone. Still have nothing on the horizons other than being a mom. Which is with me for life.
And basically, I’m pissed at myself.
That I’ve let so much time slip through my fingers with nothing and no one to show for it.
I’m pretty sure I said in like my first damn post, all I ever wanted was a simple house, in a decent neighborhood, where my kids can go to school and get the best education possible. With a man who loves me and chooses me.
But I guess that’s still not for me.
So I guess I’ll still keep on bitching on here.
I really can’t remember what I started this post to say, but I can no longer see the screen through the tears of my pity party, so I guess that means I’m done.
Oh great, to top off an even worse day with a proverbial cherry, my Grandpa is calling… and we all know how much I hate him.
-Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa & Imagine Dragons w/ Logic & Ty Dolla $ign ft X Ambassadors/Sucker for Pain-