I think...

I should start keeping a diary of my last days with my son living in my house.  It might better help me to understand why we have the relationship I think we may end up having one day if I can go back and see all the ways that he slowly and methodically hacked away at the trust between he and I.

For awhile now he's been complaining about his lega hurting him and from the very start I asked him was he sleeping on the couch in his room.  He swore to me no, he wasn't.  Even though I could see the pillow and the blanket on the couch.  I told him whatever and told him his let's hurt because he was sleeping on the couch.  He needed to sleep on his bed.  So now weeks have gone by and his legs still hurt. I was starting to get worried because as I could see he was actually sleeping in his bed.

Or so I thought.  I went up this morning because we are still battling the not showering thing and there he was asleep on the couch.

I am nearing the end of my rope with him.  Randy keeps saying that we'll see how this year goes and maybe he'll come back but honestly, I don't want him back.  I don't want my own son back in my house once I am rid of him.  I have this feeling that once he's out things are going to run soo much smoother that I may be able to find a mental foothold and make the tv in my head stop. 

So now he's in the shower and the girls are doing recon in his room and pulling stuff out.  At the moment they have county thirty if the missing cups in there some with juice.  Potato chip bags and soda cans and bowls.

They also found ten dollars.  I asked him where this came from he said people at school pay him for things like going to get stuff for them like pencils from another room.  Either he's someone's bitch or there's more to this story.  I'm betting its the latter.  One more month...

This is the saddest part if all this has become my new mantra.  One more freaking month.

Ugh!

Today is one of those days where I pretend that it's a good day but in reality I just wanna walk out in the middle of the street and scream FUCK at the top of my lungs for as long and as loud as they will let me.

And here's the kick in the face:  There are way too many effing reasons to pinpoint why!

I mean, there's the usual.  I'm so lonely I could and usually do cry.  I mean on the nightly.  Can't relax myself with a small drink anymore because a small drink relaxes my brain into thinking that it has the right to think about the fact that not one damn person on this godforsaken planet wants me.  And I can have friends who will do the obligatory "You are pretty... No you  are!  Don't feel that way... the right guy will come along and he'll be worth the wait..." bull and it might draw a smile from me for the moment but you know what.  screw the wait.  Would it kill for just one guy to want me now?  Would it be so much to ask the cosmos to send someone, anyone, that finds me attractive enough to want to be with me?? I mean what the hell did I do that was so effed up that I have to be punished for this many years??

And then there's my issues with Kayla.  There is something off there.  I don't want to say something wrong.  It's not wrong, it's off.  I know it is.  And I'm tired of doctors blowing me off.  They have been blowing me off since she was one years old and I'm tired of it.  I get called over concerned.  I get told I'm just trying to medicate my children.  I have even been told that I have munchousin Syndrome.  I mean really?!?  All of this so that they won't simply check her.  Well no more.  They will check her.  They are going to get my baby right.

I finally have a departure date for my kids.  They will be going back with Randy the day after the Graduation at Kayla and Livy's school.  He's flying out for it and he's taking the kids back with him.  So I need to have Jovaughn packed up and ready t leave my house for good by then.  The girls just need to be packed up and ready to be gone for the summer.  Last Summer it wasn't as bad but this summer is going to be bad.  Very bad.  Last Summer I hadn't had male companionship in a long time so not having it then was no big deal to me.  All I wanted was to hang out with my friends and chill.  Then I met him and I had it for the first time in a long time and dammit I don't know if it was the fact that for the first time ever my eyes rolled back in my head on their own own or maybe because of the mere fact that it was it but I miss it.  It's like a kid who grows up not having a lot to eat all their life.  Then they go a few months and they have all they want.  Then they're forced to go back to basically nothing.  That kid is going to do it because they know deep down they can but before they remember that they can survive on barely anything they go damn near crazy first.  That's where I am.  Damn near crazy.

Dealing with my roller coaster moods is driving me crazy.  I mean honestly crazy.  My days of being able to cope with being able to call the shots on whether or not I act on getting up out of bed some days is becoming a real challenge.  The temptation to take one of my bottles of vodka and just numb myself and do whatever floats across my brain some days is way to tempting.  Listening to the voices in my head has become too much of a hassle just like shutting them up has become too much of a hassle.  Blogging to let at least one of them have a voice every now and them is too much.  It's like a effing television that some has turned the volume up to max and hidden the remote.  All the channels are playing loudly and I can't stop it.  I have stories that need to be written shouting their words at me.  I have alternate realities playing out in there to the point where sometimes, I don't know what's real and what fake.  I sometimes wake up and I'm so confused that Im in the bed I'm in because I felt so real and so safe in the dream..  Almost like this was the dream.  All of my doubts are screaming at me from another section.  While the little dwindling part of me that still trying hard to hold on to reality is screaming alternate pleas for help and shouts of something I can't make out.  Then there's my mothers voice.  The one that booms over it all telling me what to do, why I need to do it, when to do it, how to do it, where to do it, what the outcome will be, and the consequences of not doing it will be.  Liquor makes the dull, I find but isn't that the point?  The make them shut up for even a little while?  Of course when they quiet for even a little while, I'm lonely which leads back to the top of my problems.

It's getting to be too much.  And I... I don't know if I can do it much longer. 

And the sad thing is... I think the only place I can admit that out loud, is my blog.

I can honestly say

That for the first time I think I KNOW for a fact that a manic period is about to make an appearance.  If it doesn't, I will be highly surprised.

How can I say that?  Well aside from morning sickness with my pregnancies, today was the first time that being a mother made me physically sick.

Have you ever had a premonition of foreboding?  Something that says to you, do not get up?  I had that this morning.  I knew I should get up at eight, I always get up at eight on Sunday mornings.  Except for the rare Sunday mornings that I'm not going to be going to church I am always up at eight.  This morning when my alarm went off I hit the snooze.  And I kept hitting the snooze until eight thirty.  Something said.  Don't get out of bed.  I really should have listened and told the kids forget it, I will take Omi to church and to forget it.  It probably would a good idea to not go today.  I don't know why but I just had that feeling and from the moment my feet hit the floor this morning, things went from bad to catastrophic.

First off, this kids had been up since six am.  They had to take showers. This is actually nothing new for them.  I could tell that only wash ups had been taken.  Very vigorous wash-ups, but wash ups none the less.  Second.  I got up at eight thirty.  Between seven and then no cleaning of the living room, kitchen, or dining room had been done and no eating of breakfast had been done suggesting that they had not actually gotten up at six like they were supposed to.  Olivia's excuse was that after her shower, she went back to sleep.  Translation.  She just got up.  Period.  They had also not gotten their clothes for church ready.  At ten, eleven, and twelve nearly thirteen years old, by now they already now this is to be done before breakfast, yet they looked at me with blank looks.

With an hour and  half left in the morning before we left, I commenced to getting clothes and doing Olivia's hair.  her hair I had actually planned on doing this morning so there was no hitch.  The clothes took time away from what I wanted to do to her hair so instead of curls she ended up with a stank ponytail.  Straightened, but still a stank little ponytail.

Kayla then informed me that after much banging around in her room she could not find anything to wear with the pink shirt i laid out for her.  I told her to look again.  She said okay and ten minutes later when I found her in the kitchen drinking milk and watching tv I assumed she had found her skirt and put it in the dryer with the other clothes. (I am the mom who uses her dryer as an iron... sue me) I learned long ago not to actually assume anything with my kids fr too long however and actually asked her if she found something and she casually told me no... with a smile!!!!!  A freaking smile!  I kinda cracked a little then.  Told her to get upstairs and keep  looking.  Threatened with the belt.  The boy was sitting on the couch watching cartoons while the living room looked in shambles.  Told him to clean.  HE told me it was clean.  Another crack.  This one I think was the first to reach my brain because all I saw was his sketch book.

Let me explain about the boys sketchbook.  It is full of trains.  Not trains in general.  The number 6 train in New York City.  In perspective.  It's coming.  It's going.  Here it comes.  There it goes.  There it was.  Off in the distance, here it comes.  Always the same train.  Always in perspective.  Drives me insane.  different stops along the line but always the same damn train.  He wants to live with his grandmother.  So not going to happen.  His father is not a bad guy.  Randy is actually a very good guy but only because the good guy that Randy has become is because Randy made himself.  The person that his mother raised... yeah... not very many people like that guy.  That guy is a bit of an ass and a momma's boy.  I'm sorry but he is.  The Randy that exists today, I like him.  Not enough to love him, no but I like him enough to be very good friend with him.  If my boy ever lived with his gram in NYC he would be someone I disliked because she does that to people.  She's is someone I dislike.  My sister in law, I love.  She is awesome.  How she turned out so different I have no idea but... hmmm

Anyway, I saw the sketchbook and threatened to take each page and put it in the garbage disposal.  I'm so tired of the same train in perspective.  I am also tired of their things being left downstairs.  It's bad enough their rooms look like crap, must they leave my downstairs looking the same?  I barely live outside of my room because I can't stand they way they leave my outer rooms looking.  On his way up to his room I asked him if he had everything he needed for church, he said yes.  He clearly said yes. 

So ten to ten rolls around and I say get dressed. Olivia gets dressed.  Kayla gets dressed.  I get dressed.  And we're all waiting.  The boy comes to be at 10:25 with no sock and no shoes and says he can't find his other Sunday shoe.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!  I told him he has five minutes and I quietly sit on the coffee table while he walks around the house looking for the shoe.

Now about a year ago, I built a three shelf bookcase for them to put their shoes in.  Every day/night I say to put their shoes away.  He wears his Sunday shoes one day a week.  you would think, they would would be the easiest to find but no.  Because he wears them to take out the trash, he wears them to go play, he wears them to clean out the garage.  He wears the backs down, he wears them untied, he walks on the sides of them.  He treats them like his tennis shoes.

Ad as I sat on the coffee table, all this mornings little cracks finally came together and shattered the fragile shell that I was just piecing back together after my last manic period with thankfully ended last Thursday.  And I unloaded.  I couldn't stop it. 

I remember what I said, it's not important but bloggers the worst part was I meant every word.  I'm tired of living for them.  I'm tired of being mom.  People tell me every blessed day that being a mother is a gift but at the moment I'm looking for my receipt.  I want to return them and walk out of the store with a brand new vacuum. Living for them, is killing me.  I am so busy buying snacks for them that I have nothing that I like to eat.  So busy buying food for them that I have nothing really tht I like to eat.  If I cook it, they tell me Mmmm it's so good but I open the pantry door and there it is sitting on top of the trash.  They beg me to buy stuff like Oreos and then at the first opportunity they get, they steal them instead of ask for them.  If I tell them they've had enough chicken wings and to save some for tomorrow, I look in the fridge after they've gone to bed and there's significantly more because they're nicked some and taken them up to bed.  They constantly run out of juices because on nights when they are to be having water, they are sneaking into the garage and taking lunch juices instead.  IF I say get a half a cup of water before bed, they fill it up and give me a stupid smile and say oops.  If I say clean your room, they bump and bang and pretend to clean for about thirty minutes and then swear it's clean and go outside.  Or fart around in there all day playing swearing they are cleaning.  They hang no clothes, they fold no clothes.  They lay them on the floor until they have ben walked on and trampled a sufficent amount of time for me to think that they've been worn again and wash them again.  They take my hangers into the great abyss known as th bedroom and then i never see them agsin but god forbid I go buy yet another pack of hangers and they ask for them and i say no.  Then they give me the hang dog look like I am denying the a kidney and walk away.

I can't do this anymore.  I really don't think  can.  Mother hood has no rewards that I can see.  Nothing can be worth the pain that I am going through.  Nothing...

So I've been a reasonable person...

At least in my eyes, I have...

So awhile ago I made the rough, and believe me deep down it was rough, choice to let the kids correspond with Randy's girlfriends mother (I know it sounds like I'm going all hatfield and Mccoy on you, but try to keep up) and you know what, it's going okay.  She may get a big smile on her face when they write but to tell you the truth my kids get excited because they have mail but the smile fades when they find out its from her.  Why?  Because she spends most of the letter telling them what to do and preaching at them.  I mean more than me, my mother, my father the minister and the entire church family combines. in one letter.  When they write her back they dash out like three to six lines and they're happy that they got that much.  Tonight I actually had to make them sit and start writing and they can finish in the morning but they need to make it long.  They don't want to write her and I'm kinda getting sick of the preaching.  It's getting to me now.

Also my best friend/sister's sister is on her perpetual rag again.  Out of respect for Lise, I won't put details here but let's just say that this time her man decided to include me in the body count.  I simply deleted her.  I mean it's facebook for cripes sake.  I don't have to take it so I won't.

Things with the boy are going okay for the moment.  not that I'm looking for the other shoe to go fling across the room.  I'm always on the lookout for that.  For the moment he's watching his p's and q's and realizing that when I said he was gone at the end of the year, he was really gone.  In fact I made him take the glow in the dark stars off his wall.  HE has to do a total clean out of of that room before he leaves and little by little Livy is making him understand that pretty soon it will be HER room.

So that's my life.

Nothing to report on men because one there aren't any and two I made a promise about a week ago that I won't be blogging, facebooking, or tweeting about men because it's a waste of time.

So there ya go!  Ciao Chickadees!!

Love ya!

Morning... why do we have it again??

I'm finding that the only plausible reason for mornings is to remind me that I didn't sleep the night before.

So Monday night Tuesday morning was sorta by choice not to go to bed.  My mom had to catch the 4:50 am bus out of Charlotte and I needed to be at her house by four ish because my mom is one of the few remaining people on this planet that lives by the die hard belief that if you are there any later than thirty minutes to the time that you're actually supposed to be there, you are late.  And then her bus was late loading and apparently late leaving.  Not the best send off.  The point was I didn't go to sleep because the last few days have been sort of an issue with me and sleeping.  The issue being that I don't.  At least not enough to call it sleeping.  It's more like dozing.  And that being the case if I had gone to sleep Monday night I would have slept clean through my alarm to get up and be at Mommy's house.  I know it so I chose to go to sleep.

After the kids got off to school, I did get back in the bed.  I can't honestly say I slept.  The sun was up and although, thankfully no one called me or texted me or was brave enough to ring my bell, but still I basically tossed and turned until I gave up and got up.  That was around one and then I didn't bother to do anything productive until around three.

I really dislike it when my sleep pattern gets screwed three ways from Sunday. (There's a funny saying.  I wonder where it came from.)  It generally takes forever and massive amounts of sleeping type drugs to get it back on track.  And I am increasingly no good until it gets to that point.  My temper is notoriously short (We're talking like THE shortest fuse here.  There is no time to scatter as I can go from pleasant and smiling to throwing things at you in like .01 seconds.) and I'm prone to sit and look at you with a blank expression on my face.  And when I say blank. I really mean blank because the brain goes into safety mode.  So whereas when I give you a blank look on my normal slept through the night days I'm usually thinking about something but on no sleep days there is absolutely nothing behind those eyes.

Last night I couldn't tell you what went wrong.  I took the melatonin and I laid down.  I even threw a Tramadol in there for good measure.  I guess Tramadol really does contain caffeine cause man I tossed and turned and stared at my ceiling for hours.  And then had to get up an hour early because the little one had to be at school before six forty five for her field trip today.

Please don't think I am complaining.  I really am not.  The problem is usually cause by something I did and exaggerated by more things that I do.  When I was married, Randy used to cure these non sleeping streaks by dragging me to bed.  And I do mean that literally.  He would get so sick of me by like day three or four that he would drag me off to bed and well, ensure that I went to sleep.  Sometimes I miss being married.

Sometimes.

And like I said before, it really doesn't help that the meds I take have a sexual appetite side effect.  I mean really?? It's was cute in the beginning, to be hot and bothered and ready to drag some poor male into my room and not let him out for a day or so but now it's like... that's just it... I can't come up with a colorful description of what it's like.  I'm effing horny and lemme tell you when you have no one to help you with that problem and you have tried to solve it yourself, it's not a pretty feeling.  Come to think of it, knowing my female friends out there, I'm pretty sure you know exactly the feeling I'm talking about.

My house is making funny sounds.  It usually does when I'm here by myself or up by myself.  I seem to be the only one who ever hears these noises.  LIke I can not touch the dresser my television sits on all day.  And no matter what when I go to bed, it always has to creak and groan.  My mom calls them settling noises.  Like the house is settling down for the night.  Tell me, what did the house do all day that it has to settle in for the night?  As much running as I do some days, shouldn't I be the one groaning and creaking?

Spring has definitely sprung here in Charlotte.  My nose has confirmed this by affixing itself in the run position. I have gone through more tissues than ever this past few weeks.  As for the crap in my lungs, that's still there.  Nearly impossible to cough up but it still feels free to choke the living crap out of me when I get to talking.  Or driving.  Lately, it has decided to creep up on me when I'm driving.  Usually on particularly curvy roads.  It has however decided to make a strategic retreat this morning.  Possibly because I have a doctors appointment and we all know you can suffer from something until you feel like you are nearly dead.  The day of your doctor's appointment arrives and suddenly you feel freaking better.

So I need to go straighten my hair.  If I'm lucky enough the coughing will stay at bay while I have hot instruments of female torture in my hands.  Although I don't think so because the cough and crap sensed I was talking about it and it has made a glorious show of strangling me to the point that it took me about ten minutes to type that last bit.

It is going to be a good day.  I am not going to kill anyone today.  I am not even going to attempt to kill anyone today.  Nor am I going to think about killing anyone today.  Today is a good day.  I have now been to the school twice today as I had to take a pause and drive the little girl next door to school.  She missed the bus.  Again.  Poor child.  I treat both her and her brother like they are my own.  I guess that's why my neighbor, their grandmother trusts me with them.  Women usually trust me with their kids.  I treat just about all kids like they are my own.  Dunno if that's a good thing or bad.  I think I got it from my mom.  Every kid she taught was her kid.  I think I had a revolving door of siblings growing up and my mom treated us all the same. If they acted up in her class, she gave them that blank look that screams "I'm waiting for you to act human again." and if they were sick, she treated them as if they were fragile eggs.  Just like me.

So sigh...  Time to go try to put an official start on my day.  See you all later!

Blogging from Church

Shame on me.

Lol, not really. I'm here for the kids practice and mommy took the car so I'm here. It's not so bad. I'm holed up the stairwell where no one can see me but I can hear EVERYTHING. And to boot I am keeping up my bad girl side by pirating the church's wifi. Crap signal but it gets the job done.

So I basically have very little to talk about tonight. I mean I had a really good day but still not anything blog worthy.

I made bread today. I took the sun nut bread recipie and added crushed almonds to it. Apparently it came out good cause the kids fairly attacked it. Hehe. Even Mommy says she wants a piece of it. We'll see.

But basically I have been playing rock band all afternoon. I went back to sleep this morning as usual, but I hadn't taken my night meds save the melatonin last might aid interestingly enough, I didn't sleep till twelve. Only ten thirty and I was fine. I even manged to get some laundry done between songs.

I rock.

No seriously I do cause of rock band three. Hehe. That game is seriously awesome.  I need more people to get xbox live and the game so we can play.

I am so about the freak the teenage girls out by appearing out of the stairwell.  Like I said its the perfect hiding place.  No one ever knows I am here.

I mean... Uh... I never hide here... Never... Esspecially not during church... *whistles and walks away*

So yeah, there's tonights blog.  Cause you best believe when I get home I'm going right back to Rock band. Numb hand and all.

Toodles.  Love and hugs.  See ya!

I do a lot of sighing...

You may or may not have noticed that my blog is now private.  Only people that I have given permission to can come in a read.  This is because I have finally decided that not everyone needs to know all about me.  And those that I make the mistake of thinking are my friends are sometimes kamikaze soldiers in disguise.  Case in Point my ex friend Michelle.

She is the one that told me flat out that I deserve everything I am going through with my son.  NO more will be said.

As for the boy, I am having another ripple in my serenity pond with him.

I did a random book bag search on him yesterday morning.  I found that he was trying to take his sketch books to school as well as a pink DS.  Why can't we stop taking rides on the Nintendo sponsored merry go round??  Long story short, he claims it belongs to his friend Joaquim.  Said friend came to the door today and I asked him why he would have a pink DS?  HE responded that it's his cousin's.  Of course he looked to the left and stuttered making me think back to Psychology 101.  I believe he's lying.  The again, I'm kinda apt to not believe any male right now.  I also asked him how long ago he gave it to Jovaughn.  He stuttered, looked at Jovaughn and scrunched up his face saying about... last Tuesday.  The girls said he had a pink DS last month and said he had had one for awhile now.

So I tripped the boy up and told him that I am only going to give it to his parents and he needs to bring his mother or father to my door to get the DS back.  If he doesn't bring his parent back to me, I will know that Jovaughn cooked up this story to get me to give the DS to his friend so he could get it back.  I am not as stupid as he thinks I am.

His father was supposed to call last night.  As much as I say Randy and I don't get along, he really is one of the few males in my life that can keep me from flying off my proverbial handle.  He knows what to do and say every time and when he doesn't he lets me rant.  After the rant he has a general idea of what to say and he says it.  When he didn't call last night there was no buffer between the boy and I.  With no buffer, the boy said something and walked around like he was the one that had the right to be hurt and I snapped.

And then I cried.  And then I snapped again.

I wanted to take a slow walk into the middle of the highway that runs not too far from my house.  I just felt bad and as usual I asked for help on my facebook.  I said and I quote "I need a reason NOT to get drunk tonight." and not one person said a word for hours until Shawna.  She texted me back down to where I could at least touch my feet to the ground.  And as of last night, I honest to God Thank GOD for her.  Because I honestly would have done something very drastic last night.  I was feeling just that bad.

You probably didn't notice but I took a little bit of a break there.  I was actually gone for like four hours.  Mom nd I are taking a sign language class at the church up the road from me.  Well actually I should say the Big church.  Everyone in the area would know that I mean Friendship.  They freaking take up both sides of the road.  They have the little church on one side, (And the little church is bigger than the medium sized church I go to now.) and the BIG church which just for reference you can see from the highway from at least two miles away on a clear day...  Yeah it's that big.  Their chor practices in a room that's so freaking huge I'm pretty sure Jay-Z would walk in and go "Damnnnnn!!!" Well he might not say Damn cause after all, it is a church.

I got back and my guitar and game had gotten here.  I love the UPS man now.  He doesn't know it, but I love him.  I also love Amazon.  Amazon rocks.  Amazon could be my bosom buddy that gives me a kidney.  Yeah, it's like that.

So at the moment, I am going to go immerse myself in Rock band.  IF you don't hear from me for a few days that's why but I can still be reached by text.

Love and hugs guys.  Hope you all have happy dreams. 

This is going to be short...

because it's 12:30 in the morning and I have to be up at seven.  Church. So there have been a few ups and downs, this week. Up: I blogged about Andrea and got it off my mind and actually felt better because I had put my anger and hurt in my blog and not sent her the eff you kind of email that was quite literally on my fingertips. Down: She saw the angry/hurt blog (Seriously who knew she still read my blog? She hadn't talked to me in months) And of course, she took it about six different directions of wrong, I guess. Maybe she didn't. I don't know. Quite honestly, I am not sure I care. As far as I'm concerned, like I said, the fact that she didn't even give me as much as a courtesy text that she was pregnant spoke volumes. What I heard was "I don't consider you a friend anymore" So que sera. Whatever, I responded to the comment she left and left it alone. Up that's not really an Up but rather a pretty heinous down: I went looking for a high school friend that up until I checked last week we were friends and sent her a facebook message asking how we had become unfriended and said that if she did it for a reason I wouldn't ask to be her friend again. She approved me and then unfriended me the very next day and wrote me "It doesn't really matter now does it" in response to the message I sent her when I sent the friend request. So of course stupid stupid me was curious as to what happened. The really crappy down: She responded and told me flat out that she didn't respect me as a person. Not that I know what that was about but again stupid me asked and what followed thatwas she didn't like the stuff I say about my mother, my kids, and her. First off, I need to go looking back at like everything I've ever written because I don't remember writing anything bad about my mother. Whatever, and yeah, I say things about my kids but I'm usually only expressing my angst about the things they do and my parenting skills. As for what I say about her, I don't think I have EVERsaid her name in my blog and never had anything but good to say about her. Personally I think she's reaching for reasons for us not to be friends. When she was going through a bad relationship when I was I college, she basically gave me the brush off with an email punch in the gut and years later blamed it on she was in a bad situation and took it out on her friends. She ensured the punch in the gut again this time when she flat out said that she thinks the problems I am having with my son are my fault. Yeah, sucker punch me one shame on you, sucker punch me twice shame on me. I will not make the same mistake a third time. Rot in hell and burn slowly. She said I talked about her, there you go. I officially said something bad about her. I wish her well in life but when she leaves this earth I wish her nothing but pain and torment. Any hurt that she caused anybody on this earth, I hope that their pain fuels the fire she burns in. Not very adult of me I know. In fact I'm pretty sure that might qualify me for the kindergarten hall of shame but a little bit of me wants to be petty for even just a moment in time and you know what, this is kinda an open blog so she may troll and see that. I don't care. Sucker punches in the gut like the one she gave me don't get to be forgiven. Ever. Up: My bills are being paid off little by little. Down: I don't have any spending cash but it's not really a down because hell I am going to be debt free soon. Up: I'm sorting out my personal life. I am thinking before I make my choices. and then even before I'm making those choices I'm thinking again. Down: I usually talk myself out of doing something before I can get to the choice but hey if I can talk myself out of it I didn't need it, right? And that's kinda it. I think. It's late. It's like one am now and I'm about finished with my drink so I'm going to go to bed. Oh and a side note I'm still taking my med. I'm controlling the urge to go out and grab the first man I see and do things that would get me locked up. Happy and floating on cloud nine but locked up on cloud nine. I'm also managing the sleeping thing. I find that it's about having the will power. When I got Andrea off my mind I started to sleep at night and not need to be asleep all day. So it was stress over the crap in my life that was making me feel that I needed to crawl into bed and sleep for another four hours after the kids went to school. I still go back to sleep some days but not for four hours. Maybe only two and then I'm good. My attitude is definitely better. I blog and I'm done. It's out of my head and gone from my subconscious. It's still not controlling my headaches like it's supposed to but I'm going to give the stress free life a try and see if that was hindering the meds from working. I am going to live a stress free life. If people around me want to act high school, they can and I will just walk away. If they wanna sucker punch me, they can. I'll get over it. Guys can text me or not text me, I'll go on breathing. The world will keep on spinning and I will keep on typing. It's all good. Life is life. If you spend it working hard to make it go the way you want it, you're going to wake up old and tired because you have spent your whole life trying to change the course of the ocean by digging new rivers with a baby spoon. So yeah. Oh! I have figured out my Halloween costume this year, but more on that later! Ta! Dette

So help me...

...because I am confused...

So I posted a blog the other day about being hurt by a friend.  It's normal for me to post a blog when I'm thinking about something and need for it to get off my mind.  Usually the blogs are about people in my life and I choose to write here on my blog because in my mind it's better than posting it on Facebook for all to see or taking out a page in the daily news for even more people to see.  At least this is my reckoning... I might be wrong.  Who knows.

Well it seems that the person that the last blog was aimed at actually does, or rather did,(I'm not entirely sure) read my blog.  How often I don't know.  I mean if you had been a regular reader she would have known that her act of unfriendship hurt me way before it got to this point.  If she had been a regular reader, she would have seen that I hit a very low point last year and needed help.  But then if she had been a regular reader and didn't bother to even post a keep your head up comment then that would be another act of unfriendship.  Do you know what I mean?  It's like no matter which way I turn, she was either not being a friend because she knew that I was hurting and still did nothing or not reading and still didn't bother to even text me when she found out she was pregnant.  Something I would have been over the moon to hear since the last time was in NJ she was taking pre-natals because they were trying.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, she apparently does or did read my blog because she responded by telling me that I was as usual (I kinda need clarification on that but whatever) wrong and not to contact her.

I really don't think she read the whole blog because I haven't tried to contact her.  I spent a month looking at her info page because I was blocked from everything else.  Then I put a Random hello Thinking about you or some piss on her wall to see if she would even respond.  I then waited a week and when it finally sunk in that she wasn't going to respond and that she didn't care I deleted her and I have never tried to contact her again.

Although now that I think of it, I think she might have been one of the people that got the mass Happy Thanksgiving text.  Not sure.  I know I didn't make the mistake of looping her into the Merry Christmas or Happy New year or Happy Valentines day text. *Shrugs*

But I never tried to contact her.  At least not after that very impersonal Thanksgiving text.  And yes I admit it was very impersonal but it was the quickest way to wish every one of my contacts a happy turkey day.  I don't try to be personal in stuff like that.

I am honest to God confused at how she was hurt at my blog.  Had it been written about me by someone I would have at least tried to explain why I cut them out of my life like a cancerous tumor that was infecting my whole body.  Hmm... Maybe it was analogies like that which might have pissed her off... Did I put any of those in there?  Lemme check...

Hmm. maybe it was when I played the race card.  For that I apologize kinda.  Not that she'll ever see this but still I kinda apologize because It was sorta unfair.  I never came to her face to face with my concerns that I was just the token black friend.  So how could she know?  I never came to her and told her how on her wedding day her son made me cry because he said something to the effect of Black people always copying each other and so do monkeys and all black people were monkeys or something like that.  The whole family laughed because well I guess to them it was funny and I was expected to see the humor in a child's statement but I didn't and it hurt, but I wasn't going to ruin her wedding day with it.  I never came right out and told her that 90% of the people she introduced me to as her friends treated me like a canker sore.  And that one of the couples in particular saw me in Target one day and upon seeing me whispered to each other pointed at me and promptly turned the other direction.  No... Friend's don't point out stuff like that.

I also never stepped up and told her that her basically forgetting about me hurt.  But then what friend does?  How do you approach someone and say to them, you are treating me like I don't exist and it hurts?  And don't say that's how you tell them.  I want to know which of any of my readers would go to their best friend of 22 years and say that.  No, you would just wait one more day for them to remember that you are on the same planet.  And then another.  And another.  And another until the days roll past and before you know it, five months has rolled past and you find out something that hurts you so bad it's very nearly physical.

But I digress.  That's only my feelings.  Apparently I was very off on how I felt.

Sigh... It's whatever.  I'm still confused but I guess I am terminally to stay that way.

Sigh... When a friend betrays you it really hurts...

You know I really thought that I had gotten this off my mind when I put it as my status a couple of weeks ago... But no matter what I do, I can't shake the thought that until she knows what she did to me, the offending person and her act of unfriendship will continue to affect me...

So a couple of weeks ago, My mom calls me and says, Did you know that Andrea is pregnant?  I responded no but then I had taken her off my Facebook last October.  Whether she knew or cared that I had was beyond me.  I remember posting that my mom had just told me my best friend of twenty plus years was sixteen weeks pregnant on my Facebook and I truly thought that I would be able to forget it.

But I can't.

Okay, fine, you either don't know or don't care that I deleted you from my Facebook.  You never thought of me after I moved, and after you called me out on Facebook for deleting a post that you had commented on thinking that I deleted it because you disagreed with me, when in reality I deleted it because I was foul mouthed in the original comment and retrospect caused me to realize that it was uncalled for.  And You didn't seem to care when I began to delete the "friends" you introduced me to that never ever talked to me or even said hello.

But we were friends for 22 years and you didn't even bother to text me and tell me that you were pregnant?!?  Seriously??  That's like walking up to me under pretense of hugging me and then planting a knife right into my heart.  I could forgive and even try to forget that you blocked me from seeing pictures that I was in on your Facebook and that for a month I was stuck looking at your info page because you had blocked me from seeing any of your posts, but disregarding a 22 year friendship and not even telling me that you were expecting.  Low blow.

Regardless of the status of our online friendship, I would have never done that to you.  It was wrong, it was crass, and above all, now I know that we aren't even friends anymore.

Very well, I can take a very unsubtle hint when it's thrust in my face.  You chose your brand new non colored friends over our childhood friendship and relegated me to that dusty corner of your basement that never gets looked at.  Your actions just told me that what I thought was our friendship is officially over.

Whew!  Got that out of my system.  The question is, since I KNOW she doesn't read my blog, should I email this to her (A cleaner less acerbic version of course) or should I let this be the end of it.  And never think of her again and let her keep thinking that I'm still the ever patient Claudette sitting there waiting for her to notice me?

Sigh...

The sad thing is, IF my senior class ever has a 20 year reunion, I would want to go and she might be there as well.  I tend to hold onto things like this and stick them in my hair so that the ire never goes away.  What would I do if she came up to me and hugged me?  Would I hug her back and smile in her face or would I knock her away and treat her as badly as she's treated me?  I guess time will tell really.

Hopefully now that I've blogged about it, I can forget it and move on.

I really hope I can forget her the way she has me... But dammit 22 yrs of friendship meant something to me.  Obviously more than it did to her so it hurts so bad it's almost a physical hurt...

Sigh...