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This is my one chance at happiness. I have to be ruthless!

The misery! The exquisite tragedy! The Susan Hayward of it all!

It’s amazing the clarity that comes with psychotic jealousy.

Tell him you love him. Bite the bullet.

If he were feeling what I’m feeling then he would know how it feels.

Life goes on. Maybe there won’t be marriage… maybe there won’t be sex… but, by God, there’ll be dancing.

Someone stop me; oh someone please, just try and stop me!

Your face. No no, you’re all right. The look you get. It’s like… It’s like the first time I rode my bike without training wheels. It’s like you’re experiencing everything for the first time.

I loved who I got to be with him.

Sometimes you gotta break the rules. You never know when you’re gonna get something inspired. Well, go on. Break the rules.

Each one of those words is different by only a letter. Falling turns into failing. Failing turns into flailing. I feel like I’m doing all of them, simultaneously. Many know that things haven’t been easy around here lately. Granted, when is life ever easy anymore? But it seems that I’ve done something to truly piss off the universe. And considering I’ve actually been the most well-behaved I have in years (not going out clubbing or drinking until I puke or flashing my boobs or worse), I’m struggling at figuring out exactly what I did wrong. Was it not accepting that job offer? Was it not accepting that other drunken job offer to be a holiday escort, I mean, arm candy, I mean lady friend, for extra Christmas money? Was it deciding against the original Christmas gift plans that I’ve had in place for six months? Was it something I said? Something I did? Whatever it is, Dear Universe, what can I do to make it right?

In the past few weeks you have:

  • Had my iPod stolen
  • Had me rear-ended (thank you for making it so soft)
  • Had my boss quitting
  • Had me seriously doubting my career choices
  • Had me fighting massive cravings
  • Had me letting my no contact end because of a birthday (ok, maybe I don’t regret that one so much)
  • Had my ex-husband call me in tears telling me he is divorcing again
  • Had my ex-husband mention more than three times that we should get back together (ummm… HELL NO!)
  • Had my ex-husband’s wife call me at 6:15 AM ( Oh HELL NO!)
  • Had my ex-husband’s wife telling me to get back together with my ex-husband (once again: HELL NO!)
  • Had my ex-husband committed
  • Had me break the news about the divorce AND the commitment
  • Had me declaring that I was writing a book because “I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried” (tentative title of said book)
  • Had me yelling over my children to get them to hear me
  • Had me just yelling at my children out of frustration and exhaustion
  • Had me arguing with my children
  • Had me crying because I’ve hit that point with my children
  • Had me finding an awful note that one child disguised as a family poem on one side of the paper
  • Had me doubting that I am capable of this parenting thing
  • Had me wondering what they are going to say in their therapy sessions in 10 years
  • Had me hoping that they don’t get sick of me and leave
  • Had me doubting every thing about myself

Seriously, that’s a lot to handle in two weeks. I wish I could say I was exaggerating in what you’ve thrown at me lately. It’s no wonder I’m not sleeping, I haven’t been enforcing chores, haven’t been cooking as often as I should be, and I’m the raving lunatic that I’m seeing in the mirror as of late.

I feel as though I am falling into a pattern with my children that I’m trying desperately to break, but in trying to break it, I fear it’s only getting worse. Falling into a pattern of just settling for things as they are. Feeling as though I am falling into a pit of despair and woe is me. And that isn’t me. Which pisses me off even more.

Which leads to failing. I feel like I am failing at this whole parenting thing, this whole independent woman thing, someone who can usually handle things with grace. I’m failing at cooking, enforcing chores, not losing my temper, not yelling, not arguing, not fighting. I know my kids have it in them, I get compliments on them every time we are out. But at home, it’s Jeckyll and Hyde. I know that home is where you let it all loose and let it all hang out, but I fear that because of that, all my children are going to remember is the arguing and the fighting. Not the time we spent cooking or laughing or talking or ordering pizza and watching movies on Fridays or just simply all sitting in the same room as we work, do homework and watch TV. I feel like I am failing at my job. Not moving up as I should. Wondering if I’m making the right decision to trust my gut that things are going to turn out like I think. Not making the money I know I am worth.

Which leads to flailing. I flutter from home to job to home to cooking to homework to bedtime. I sometimes feel like I’m starting off strong only to flounder and jump from task to task without really completing anything. Then I go back and try and finish it and get caught up in something else. I forget to pick this up at the store. And then I remember and get home and realize there were 4 other things I forgot. Yes, lists. I make them. When I remember to. I feel as though I’m forgetting everything and accomplishing nothing. Hell, I’m even failing and flailing about in this post. The idea was there, the execution started well. But like this post, I’m falling into a dark, scary rabbit hole and flailing around trying to catch hold before it’s too late.

Falling. Failing. Flailing.

I’m here to cooperate with you a hundred percent. A hundred percent. I’ll be just right down the line with ya’. You watch.

I do nothing halfway. This will cost you.

If we are all carrying the weight of the world on our shoulders shouldn’t it feel a little lighter?

That might sound boring, but I think the boring stuff is the stuff I remember the most.

It’s always the darkest before the dawn.

I’m still awesome.

I don’t believe I have to be loyal to one side or the other. I’m simply asking questions.

You get a job. You become the job.

A life without love is no life at all.

Once, there was this day… this one day when… everyone realized they needed each other.