I’ve got a job, I’ve got money. You’d think that would be enough to make me happy, or sane, or whatever it is I’m supposed to be striving for here. But no. I’m sitting in my bed, twisted up with anger because Mom said something to hurt me, and I know she’s doing it on purpose. No one can be that vile without knowing it. And of course I fall prey to it every freaking time.
I’ve been unable to continue with therapy, so I don’t have the sounding board that I normally have to help me put things into perspective. I’ve not had the time to read and to center myself because as soon as I get in from work I have to play slave to the mother. In her defense she is just coming off a gastric bleed and a stint in rehab, but that’s no reason not to say ‘Please’ in stead of ‘get me’.
I”ve bought a Franklin day planner again, I’m trying to get back to scheduling my life and my writing so I do it again. Part of that is writing here and in my other blogs. I need the creative release even if it’s just for a few minutes before bed to vent.
How far have I fallen? Well, the fact that I can kill a bag of white chocolate M&M’s in less than thirty minutes should be an indication.