Mental Midget

Tired marathon runner[1]

I’m so tired by all the frustrating and moon-induced? bull shit  (I like horse shit better), I can’t even detail why.  I have a mouNTain of things to do and what I mostly did was rearrange my furniture layout and shop online.  Neither thing was productive or helpful.  It’s sounding a little like depression to me.  Crap…

I see both my therapist and my general doctor this week.  I hope that proves helpful.

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Better Coping Through Chemicals

thWRJTVX1EMy daughter changed her Facebook cover photo to a picture of her cuddling up on her daddy during a hike this past parents’ weekend at college.  The girlfriend must have taken the picture.  I haven’t talked to my daughter yet.  Obviously, as I mistakenly thought might happen, she was not upset, didn’t need to call or text me, and I am still under instructions to not interact with her on Facebook, or friend any of her friends, or “like” any of their or her posts, but dad is now front and center —  Mr. Do-You-Know-Who-I-Am?  I-Can’t-Have-A-Presence-On-The-Internet.

Oh the plight of the unsung custodial mom, the “nice” parent, the one you take advantage of and manipulate. The one who gets taken for granted.

So, the plan to put a pause my maintenance drugs in the hope of stronger sexual desire shit the bed after just a couple of days.  This morning I made a little salad of a multivitamin, a Prozac, and an Ativan.  Yummy!  Better coping through chemicals.

Moving on

I HATE HIM I HATE HIM I HATE HIM

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AND I DON’T CARE WHAT THAT SAYS ABOUT ME.  NOT TODAY.

MOVING ON.

It’s going to be an Ativan day!

Ah…today is the day we meet with our realtor to go through the house and see what needs to happen before we put it on the market.  I’m guessing de-clutteringtake_two_aspirin_252_167, a little bit of staging and sprucing up, screen repairs, potted plants, and a possible roof re-shingle.

What I didn’t realize when I first met with a lawyer, is that at this point, when people have breached their marriage contract, vows, and trust, the only thing left is financial.  It’s very had to swallow at first, but let’s get this bitch sold and off my back.

Thank god I don’t love my house.  I like it, and appreciate it’s shelter, but it isn’t useful to any of the four people who lived here for 18 years or so anymore.

He hasn’t been allowed in the house very much since he moved out.  I dread going through the rooms and what he thinks of how I live my life here without him.  Not that I do anything weird, it’s just that he always has a judgment at the ready.

That’s where Ativan, my chemical friend, comes in.  Don’t fail me today…