Grab a bag of confetti you guys, for tomorrow is the first appointment with my new therapist!!
Um, yeah. Which I’ve been waiting for since fucking July when I decided gee whiz, maybe I should go talk to someone because my mom just died rather traumatically, my ex-husband keeps poisoning me from afar, not to mention that I already have an ass load of mental health problems to take into consideration.
So let’s make her wait ON HER OWN for a few months and you know, I can always go to the ER in case of an emergency.
So they can lock me away in the funny-farm and I can weave baskets for everyone this Christmas!!
Since I now compare every mental state that I’m in with how I was back in the spring/summer of 2015, at least I am ME.
(Anyone who suffers from mental health issues will understand what I mean.)
I am (mostly) one with reality, although it’s touch and go sometimes when my anxiety is high.
I don’t wish for death constantly, I just sometimes wish that I wasn’t here to begin with.
I don’t dream that monsters are trying to kill me and I don’t spend hours obsessing about one thing or another.
However, I am always tired, I want to sleep a lot, I procrastinate like crazy and I MISS MY MOM.
I keep saying that to myself…like a mantra.
So is that like an obsession or a compulsion?
I haven’t really gotten angry yet about what happened to my mom. I keep waiting for that to boil over. Fun stuff.
It’s just the truth and I don’t wanna. (Tantrum time.)
I don’t wanna celebrate the holidays without my mom. No music, no Santa, no trees, no gifts. Just screw it all this year.
My daughter is graduating from college December 15th and my mom should be there!
FUCKING DAMN IT.
I promised to keep living my life and to fight the good fight. But there are days when I just want to stay in my safe, cozy bed and become one with that empty hole in my heart.
I am struggling with everything that I need to do right now. The pain in my legs and lower back is constant and I hate the bitter coldness of Ohio in wintertime. Fibro continues to be my foe and I wish it would GO THE FUCK AWAY.
Oh yeah, I am putting my condo up for sale. (More on that later and the thing that made me finally decide to do it.)
That might be adding to my stressed out, grief sundae right now, but knowing how I LOVE to put shit off, I need to follow through or else I will pitch the entire endeavor in the trashcan and then throw a Molotov cocktail in behind it.
No, it needs to be done. As difficult as it might be, it’s an integral part of ending the asshat era and moving on.