I've been reading Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. I now have love for her and I'm finding the book to be extremely helpful in my writing pursuits. One of the things she stresses in the book is to write. Obviously. But to write every day. Something. Anything. Even if it's shit. And lets be honest, most of it is. She stresses the importance of filling a notebook every month. Just to get it in. To get it done. Well. I started out really well, but now it's the 20th and I have about 8 pages filled. Why? Life. It's sucking me dry. This isn't news, I know.
I have all of these great topics and ideas and I'm dying to get to it but I can't. Not only because of lack of time, but more because so fucking much is pissing me off right now that I need to dump it before I can focus on anything else. So here I am. It's fitting as this is where I bitch. I have to warn you, this entry is probably going to suck. But I don't care, because I'm drinking. happy face with tongue sticking out.
I don't make a habit of drinking and blogging, but maybe I should. So far it feels pretty good, but then again, I just downed a whole drink in five minutes. I just recently spent some time with family. The blood kind. The only family members that do not drink or aren't addicted to coke or heroin are those in recovery. It's sad, pathetic, and disgusting, but I get it. I so get it. So tonight, rather than expending more energy trying not to be one of them, I'm just going with it. Truth is, I am one of them. I think I fight harder not to lose control, but in the end, when it's needed, I take my medicine. Sad, but that's not what I wanted to talk about.
Just had to refill. If I do that two more times, this blog will become about how everything is great!!! In fact, I'm already starting to wonder why I'm really here. Okay. So, it's school vacation week. It's hard to believe that is the only reason I feel like jumping off a cliff, and it's not, but it's not helping. I'm trying to work, I'm behind on everything and at the same time I'm trying to keep my child occupied and prevent him from sinking deeper and deeper into his own world. It's not working. While he is awesome and funny and an all around great kid, without structure and a routine and someone forcing him into the real world he will sink deeper and deeper into his own. Aside from the non stop singing (only show tunes/movie themes) it's nearly impossible to get him to do or talk about anything other than what he is playing in his mind. Because he's not really playing so you can see him playing. It's hard to explain... but basically he just has something (mostly lego guys) in his hands and he spins around in circles and he makes noises. I will say something to him,...anything... like it's time to get ready to leave or ask him what he wants for lunch...and he will say.."I think it's time to ask yourself what you believe in" or "Great. I think I got it,. but tell me the whole thing again just in case because I wasn't listening." or "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Nothing that has anything to do with what I'm saying to him. In fact, he's not really saying anything. Those are all movie quotes. And while it's sometimes funny and sometimes cute, and yes, I know I do it too, far too often, a full week of it is too much to handle. But I can't stop it and I can't shake him until he comes back to reality and I can't yell and I can't just go hide so I don't have to hear it anymore. As I'm saying this, I'm thinking to myself, wow the mom's with two fighting kids really do have it worse than I do and now I'm feeling guilty for not being able to deal with a child who's oddities and ocd tendencies drive me up the wall when he's home for a week. But still, they do, and I know why. It's because they conflict with mine. It's quite possible I'm driving him just as batty and that is why he's spending so much time in la la land. But in any case. School. Soon. Very soon.
The rest of it is all lumped together into what I like to refer to as The Weight of the World. I feel it. On my shoulders. Constantly. The weight of having to earn enough (extra) money so we can eat and have heat and pay all of our bills. The weight of having to work sometimes 7 days a week in order to accomplish this and watch everyone else lie around while I do it. The weight of having to buy the food and plan the meals and cook the meals. The weight of having to take care of everything in the home, the laundry, the dishes, and the cleaning (that's a joke), while trying to work a more than full time job in only the part time hours I'm allotted. The weight of being the primary caregiver for my son and losing 6 precious nights of me time per month that I definitely used to recharge. I've spent that last few years fighting and asking for help with some of this, and when I do I feel like I get attitude. Just plain ass bullshit attitude. I feel the weight of still being the "other woman" because that is how it is. I'm not The Woman. The primary woman. I still come second to what the ex wife wants and needs and I know he would disagree with this but it's true. Why else wouldn't he have made The Woman by now? On top of this, we're supposed to be making a move. Soon. Like in 2 and half months. Beside all the the shit we have here that needs to get packed up, we are moving into a house that needs work top to bottom. I have no reason to believe that anyone but me will be doing all of this because history has told me...that no one but ME will be doing all this. Does this make sense? I hope it makes sense or else I just want to jump of a fucking bridge for nothing. (I know I said cliff before. I'm changing it up.) When I voice my feelings, my frustration, my dissatisfaction with the way things are...well...basically that is just me starting a fight. Me ruining the day. Me attacking. Me blaming. Nothing ever changes. In fact, I think that with each time I do voice my feelings I make things worse.
So. I'm stuck. I'm fucked. One more drink and I'll also be drunk. Good thing is...I'm almost drunk.
There. Bitch session complete. Maybe this will free up some space to actually dive into something with more life. Something with less of a dead end.
Hope, who is becoming no fun to be around and who doesn't even care to be around much anymore anyway.