I hate crazy. I really do.
I am trying with all my might to accept that water is the best drink I could possibly drink.
Just plain water.
Boring, fucking, water.
What I really want is a big ass Diet Coke, or even a Juiced Rock Star! The choices are endless when you walk into a 7-11 or gas station market. They call out to you all cold and glistening. And then your brain is all, “You are a grown up and sugary and chemical laced drinks are bad for your body. Being a grown up, you should make the right choice for your body and drink water.” So I reach for the boring ass bottle of water, this time in a pretty glass bottle to shake things up, and regretfully walk away.
I know water is good for me and the shit storm of sugar and chemicals is bad. But I want them. I want them so bad I can taste them as I type.
Fuck off brain. I am ignoring your cries for that shit and drinking water. Even if water is lame.
There’s no where to hide today. There hasn’t been for months. I need a break from life. Does anyone have a suggestion? Responsibility and adulthood is getting the better of me. Resentment is seeping in and I want to strangle someone. Doesn’t even matter who at this point.
And don’t even get me started on the fucking asshole single white female stalker I am dealing with at the moment. I am very close to getting a god damn restraining order if the bitch doesn’t stop contacting me. Unfortunately there is nothing I can really do at this time because none of her comments are threatening. Just a big fucking irritation that makes my blood boil. I hate people who are so fucking needy and attention seeking. Shut the fuck up and deal with your life. You don’t need me to cheer you up. I honestly could give a shit about you but you fucking weaseled your way into my life so I tried to be your friend. And that wasn’t good enough so you went bat shit crazy on me? GET THE FUCK OUT.
Random rant over. I will be back again soon.
I hate my husband today. I haven’t been feeling a lot of love for him recently just because I almost never see him. But today my eyes opened a little.
All I wanted to do was sign my daughter up for gymnastics. He has put it off for a while. So I called today. He was pretty silent and so I asked if he had any reservations to which he told me he did not. He said he would check out the website and get her signed up. Next thing I know he is calling me back telling me he now remembers why he had reservations.
1. It’s a 25 min trip to the gymnastics place.
2. It’s only once or twice a week.
3. The money is too much
4. Our daughter will reach a point where she can no longer move up and move on
5. You have to be small to be a gymnast
I understand it costs money, but seriously, it’s something that our child will love. She isn’t involved in any sort of activity aside from doing cartwheels and handstands in the house. She doesn’t have interest in the other activities like softball or basketball (or maybe she does and I am missing that).
What frustrates me the most is that instead of thinking of how we can make this happen, he puts limitations on it. Something he does for himself, which is why he is stuck in his dead end job.
It’s too much.
I wish I didn’t have to work with him to make decisions. I feel like I could be so much better off on my own.
Time for me to think about being in charge of myself and my kids and my household. He’s not going to do it. I have a list of crap I have asked him to help with (Like calling the landlord or a plumber to fix our pipes that back up instead of just taking off the cap so it pours out into our backyard…or fix the garage door, or take the fucking trash in the backyard to the dump, and on and on and on).
Almost four years sober and I am still having my moments of weakness when it comes to alcohol. I miss the black outs. How can that be? How can I miss the nights I can’t piece together? But I can.
There is something that I loved about being able to blame my actions on alcohol. My indiscretions, my fights, my total lack of responsibility for anything. The lack of progress in my life. It was all alcohol that was to blame.
Shit. That’s what it is.
Nothing is getting better in my life right now, and I only have me to blame.
It’s time to get the fuck out of my shitty job.
I believe the idiotic people I deal with would be fine if the person running the company wasn’t convinced they were right about everything and running their business with emotions rather than rational thought.
Instead of continuing to seethe about my job, I am getting the fuck out. If I don’t do anything about it, I am just as guilty.
Time to start preppin’ the resume or putting my dream store idea into gear!
It started off sappy and sweet remembering the good times. Then I went on a dirty/naughty path that could have just turned out bad in the long run. And then I was just telling the story and it sounded like I was writing for a high school newspaper.
Instead, I decided to just get out what the hell is going on in my head and my heart without all the cheesy/gory details. This story will come to life on it’s own. It’s been 25 years, so there is a lot to tell, and a lot of the story is just crazy naive girl crap.
I miss him.
I love him.
It hurts every time I spend time with him, knowing I can never be with him.
Each time he reaches out to me, I know it’s not good. I know I should just ignore him. I can’t. I am tied to him.
I won’t let that tie break.
But I know I shouldn’t see him.
25 years of friendship, and only about a 8 months of that we were a couple. Unbelievable when I think about what an affect he has over me. Several of my boyfriends after him were me trying to fill the void he left in me. None of them were right. But that’s because I am not supposed to be with him.
I love my husband. He provides so much for me and my family. He loves me unconditionally, and I truly love him. But he will never fill that empty space in my heart that was left when me and “G” broke up.
It was just a walk and coffee that sent me on this spiral. Innocent chat about Princess cakes and styles of houses we liked and disliked as we walked along. Nothing that would have raised an eyebrow to an outsider. My friends would know. They would see it before I even realized it was happening.
I just want him to have a happy life. It breaks me to know that will not be with me, but we are far too dysfunctional to ever be together again.
I just need to take a moment to say a few words about fucktards who believe they are entitled to everything.
I am discovering it’s more of a generational thing, but don’t get me wrong. There are plenty of people my age and older that are entitled fucktards. I am growing impatient with this growing trend and I have decided this shit needs to stop. I started doing some thinking about how we fix this problem. I determined, after about 32 minutes of thought, that we need to nip this shit from where it is starting.
The soccer field.
Not keeping score, and letting everyone think they are just as good as the other players is fucking with our kids minds.
In the real world, there are winners and there are losers.
Yes, I know you are there. I feel that tingle you keep sending me. The slight twitch when you think of him. Get over it. He ain’t comin’ over to diddle your bean. And tell your nipple friends to stop perking up so much when my brain processes images of him.
Soooo many images….
Anyway, pipe down until we are alone with toys or husband has some time to devote to you. Because sitting at work with my clit acting like a god damn pre-teen is rather frustrating. Or perhaps exciting. Either way, its’s very distracting.
Today has been a melting pot of fuck heads. Since I have taken on the role of HR Director/Payroll Goon I haven’t had any time to my main job as Accounting Manager. WTF people?
Are you grown men and women telling me you can’t figure out among yourselves when y’all can take a fucking break? No? How about figuring out how to get to work on time? NO? So now I have to write your ass up and then listen to you fuckers whine about how your life is so hectic and your are just overwhelmed and blah fucking blah. People, shut the fuck up. Get your ass to work, and work. Don’t make excuses. Just do what the hell we tell you to do.
Alright, come on in here and get really close and let’s chat. Can you smell that delightful scent sneaking up from under the desk? Ya, that’s my feet. They look pretty in their leather heels and nylons, don’t they. But there is something about the combination that creates a stink like no other. I can’t get away from it today, and neither can you. This is your punishment for fucking up my day.
Why does my ass crack still stink after a damn good scrubbin? What the hell am I doing wrong?
"Get good. Be better."
On depression, recovery, and creating a life of clarity, balance, and meaning.
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