Fuck my life...
Aug. 5th, 2010 05:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladydraceRemember how I said there was no reason this was a bad day? Well now there is. Actually there always was, but it never really surfaced until now.
1. The brats make me feel like I'm back in 3rd grade. I keep trying to think of other ways of going home from daycare, so I won't have to face them. I spend so much time and energy on those little fuckers and it's seriously making me paranoid. My brilliant plan doesn't seem like such a comfort right now. And what if my retaliation only makes it worse? This time they were only 3, but I know for a fact that they usually hang with a group of up to 12 kids of different ages. And if they all get in on it, I'll be driven out of town. I could perhaps get the police to deal with it, but not until I've been driven even deeper into the hell hole of anxiety I'm desperately trying to claw my way out of.
2. I'm starting to have some "muddy" discharge, along with pains in my private parts. This worries me a lot. Had it just been fresh blood, I wouldn't have worried, but this weird sludge concerns me alot, combined with the pains. There's no smell to speak of, so that's good, but I'm still worried. I do have a doctor appointment on Wednesday, but I don't know if I can wait that long...
3. I worry. I worry myself to death about the coming separation of households. How will Pea deal? How will B deal? He's never had Pea for very long on his own and I worry myself sick that he's going to be taking his frustrations out on Pea even more than he's done before, as soon as there's nobody (a.k.a me) to see/stop him. I'm not worried about physical abuse, but the mental abuse isn't much better. In fact, I'd say it's worse. Not that he's abusive as such, but I fear it could go there. I worry, worry and worry.
4. I. Want. My. Fucking. Husband. Back.
Not B. I want my husband. The man I could trust more than myself. The man I loved so much that any annoying trait was overshadowed by the comfort and security I felt in his embrace. I want my husband here to hug me and tell me everything is going to be ok. That this stranger who shares my home will be gone soon and that we'll be a family again. A family who could raise our beautiful little boy in a household of love and affection, like we always planned. I want that back.
I hardly know what to do about this clone of my husband who's occupying his spaces and wearing his clothes. It's like a mockery of the love we had and it breaks my fucking heart.
*sob*
1. The brats make me feel like I'm back in 3rd grade. I keep trying to think of other ways of going home from daycare, so I won't have to face them. I spend so much time and energy on those little fuckers and it's seriously making me paranoid. My brilliant plan doesn't seem like such a comfort right now. And what if my retaliation only makes it worse? This time they were only 3, but I know for a fact that they usually hang with a group of up to 12 kids of different ages. And if they all get in on it, I'll be driven out of town. I could perhaps get the police to deal with it, but not until I've been driven even deeper into the hell hole of anxiety I'm desperately trying to claw my way out of.
2. I'm starting to have some "muddy" discharge, along with pains in my private parts. This worries me a lot. Had it just been fresh blood, I wouldn't have worried, but this weird sludge concerns me alot, combined with the pains. There's no smell to speak of, so that's good, but I'm still worried. I do have a doctor appointment on Wednesday, but I don't know if I can wait that long...
3. I worry. I worry myself to death about the coming separation of households. How will Pea deal? How will B deal? He's never had Pea for very long on his own and I worry myself sick that he's going to be taking his frustrations out on Pea even more than he's done before, as soon as there's nobody (a.k.a me) to see/stop him. I'm not worried about physical abuse, but the mental abuse isn't much better. In fact, I'd say it's worse. Not that he's abusive as such, but I fear it could go there. I worry, worry and worry.
4. I. Want. My. Fucking. Husband. Back.
Not B. I want my husband. The man I could trust more than myself. The man I loved so much that any annoying trait was overshadowed by the comfort and security I felt in his embrace. I want my husband here to hug me and tell me everything is going to be ok. That this stranger who shares my home will be gone soon and that we'll be a family again. A family who could raise our beautiful little boy in a household of love and affection, like we always planned. I want that back.
I hardly know what to do about this clone of my husband who's occupying his spaces and wearing his clothes. It's like a mockery of the love we had and it breaks my fucking heart.
*sob*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-08-05 06:06 pm (UTC)Wish I could do/say more...
I don't have any great advice. Just that I hear you, and I'm pulling for you.
great big hugs and good thoughts to you!
no subject
Date: 2010-08-06 07:59 pm (UTC)*hugs*