Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Sleepless in Kentucky

I hate insomnia with the fiery passion of a thousand burning suns. I've cut down to one cup of a coffee a day, I'm exercising, trying all the fun tricks that are supposed to get your body into the right place for sleep.

Well, the body is willing, but my mind is a raving lunatic, fueled by some sort of demonic energy drink. It moves at a million miles an hour, compiling lists and information, reordering, analyzing, questioning and popping up the random sparkly purple squirrel, just for fun. I spend all night tossing and turning, and finally fall into a completely not restful death-sleep for a couple of hours right about the time I need to get up. If I manage that much.

So, I'm doing silly stuff. I put the peanut butter in the fridge. I put my jeans on backwards (and then spent at least 60 seconds staring at them wondering what was wrong with them). I might have even taken a load of laundry from the dryer and loaded it into the washer. Thankfully, I might also have realized it before I added soap and water. It reminds me of my mother when she worked three jobs, with her shoes and keys in the fridge and the milk in the cabinet.

Damn you, insomnia- let me sleep!

Monday, June 10, 2013


A very large part of me just wants to give up right now. The past few months have felt like a particular sadistic demon had made it his personal fetish to put us repeatedly through a meat grinder.

So far we have dealt with major relationship crisis, problems with the kids that run the gamut from Daredevil apparently taking the world's quota or slacker pills to Gollum losing his shit and pulling a butcher's knife on someone over a Nerf sword fight he lost. (Trust me, that isn't even half of it, just the least/greatest of the problems.) The neighbors wanted us to sell our place to their grandson for less than half of what we put into it less than a year ago. We refused, and so far they've called the park manager to try and get us evicted, filed a false police report, and sicced CPS on us. Oh, and managed to get The Talent's family involved- so we cut ties with them as best we could.

In the middle of this shitstorm, Gollum, who was already pissed at his stepdad for making him do chores and disciplining him, decided to get some of his own back and claim TT had bloodied his lip. End result- we have to go to court and prove that my habitually vindicative and untruthful Gollum is lying- and I'm under house arrest and not able to leave the children with TT (including his own 18month old son) alone. Which means I can't work.

And then he got laid off and cut from the union. Great...

The Talent was supposed to start with a new company today. Sat down and talked to the owner, hammered out all the details of pay and schooling. Reported for work this morning- and the guy who apparently holds the owner's balls informs TT that A) they aren't going to pay him XX, they're going to pay him X, and B) suddenly, TT has to pay for schooling. Fuck.

Fine, okay, go to the unemployment office to apply for the unemployment he should be getting for the past couple weeks and until he finds a new job. Sure, he can file a claim, but they're not going to pay him for the two weeks he's been off. So we're fucked there.

I'm honestly trying very, very hard to remain calm and positive, but as of right now, I want to say fuck it and stop fighting. I want to quit, give up everything and put a very large caliber bullet in a very small hole in my head. I'm the person who takes care of everyone and deals with all the shit that comes our way, and I'm tapped out. There's no one to help me pick up the slack, no one to even rub my back and tell me everything will work out. There's no respite or tapping out. I can't even have a good old-fashioned screaming me-me fit, because that might reflect badly on us with CPS.

I've followed everyone's advice, I've kept my head down and mouth shut, I've turned the other cheek, I've let go and let God, I've been understanding and supportive until my teeth ache. I called my MOTHER for advice (and those who know me know how desperate I was to do that) and got a guilt trip. My brother screamed at me. So did my spouse. Every time it's looked like there was a glimmer of light, it was just another fucking train, and I can't take anymore.

Right now, for the first time that I can remember, I don't want to be a mom. I don't want to be a wife. I don't want to be anything to anyone. I would honestly rather be dead than keep trying to fight the whole fucking world. For the first time, I don't have any will to fight- the world can win. Just remember- no funeral, cremated in a cardboard box immediately, toss that shit in the ocean and have a couple drinks and laughs around a bonfire for me.