Lady Drace

Wow, this last week was a killer. Thank god it's over.

I was sick for most of it and when I wasn't coughing I was depressed. I'm still coughing, but at least things are looking a little brighter now.

I watched all I could find of Fringe in a frenzy (which is great btw. Hai thar, new obsession...) and I've now decided to give Supernatural another try. I like it much better than I did last time and since I'm told it gets better over the seasons I'm sticking with it for now. It's cheesy in the same kind of way Merlin is and I think if I let the characters grow on me a bit it will become very good. (In fact, the episode I'm watching right now gives me the giggles. 1x08: Bugs. People keep assuming Sam and Dean are a couple. Surprise appearance by the werewolf guy from Sanctuary. Great stuff.)

In other news, I just realised that it's been 6 months since B moved out. Where the hell did the time go?? Well, I suppose since I'm dealing with things and not lying in a pile of misery around the clock, it must be a sign that I'm doing okay on my own. I'm certainly not pining for B and I'm full of plans for the future. Very positive signs I think

For this week I think I'll stick to something simple and rec some fics and maybe some art. A pairing a day. Starting with... yeah, you guessed it: Garak/Bashir. They're not my OTP for nothing. :o)

First of all, today, B and I got our divorce finalized. We are now officially divorced. It was easier than I thought it would be. And frankly, surprisingly anit-climactic. B also thought so.

This warrents a longer post at some point, but something else is currently more on my mind.

My mother told me yesterday that my great grandmother was violently agoraphobic. Not diagnosed of course, but it was a fact that she never left the house and if anyone tried to force her, she would go into a complete panic, scream and cling to her chair or something. My mother never really thought about it until my uncle made an off hand remark a few days ago. It was just a fact of life, nothing anyone wondered about or considered strange. At least to my mother who was only a child.

This has to have some sort of meaning for my condition. It's the first thing any therapist has always asked me. "Has there been any history of mental illness in your family?" I just can't decide if this is good news or bad news. Good news, because it might mean some new paths of treatments, or bad news because it's genetic and I'm basically doomed? *sigh* This is breaking my brain.

Any thoughts?

Got the paperwork for the divorce done today. Surprisingly sad experience. Oh well. I guess it's part of the ride. Besides, I can't wait until I can stop tagging every single one of my personal entries with the 'divorce' tag.

If there is such a thing as actively procrastinating, then that's what I'm doing. I have a loooooong list of things I should be doing now that I don't have Pea around, but I'm kinda going "fuck it" and deliberately not bothering.

PROCRASTINATORS UNITE!!!

... Tomorrow...

Also, Mr. Dishy downstairs did say he was moving in with 2 friends, but it's a tiny apartment, so I was a little confused about it. But now there are 3 names on the mailbox and I met one of the roomies today. Another cutie. Totally not my type but cute still. Also, they only seem to have one, big bed. Honestly, even without all my gay porn hobbies, that would make me raise an eyebrow. Mwahahah.

I just started season 3 of Criminal Minds. Still not sure it's something I'll be joining fandom over, but it's good entertainment and now... well.. I'm sorta just going with the flow and watching it all. Just because I can. There are a lot of other things I should be doing, but honestly, I can't be arsed.

In other news, I watched Cairo Time and fucking hell if Sid wasn't just one, big, wet dream. Nurf.

If you are someone I know IRL and read this blog regularly/occasionally/ever, then this message is for you:

I write here when I feel like, what I feel like and however I feel like. I write when I'm angry, upset, sad, happy, amused, whatever.

If I write about something you did in a negative way, then please accept the fact that I probably made you aware of how upset you were making me at the time and you didn't listen. And yes, I exaggerate, but I never lie. If you feel offended by anything you read here, feel free to contact me about it, but remember this:

This is my personal blog. Reading this is a privilege - not a right. If you don't like what you read, don't go here. If you want to drag my ass to court for slander, feel free to do so.

To downstairs lady: Sorry I got your kid's age wrong. I'm still fucking pissed off. I asked you to stop pressing me about the sleeping issue. You wouldn't let it lie. I talk to my friends about it. Sucks to be you.

To Floozie: If you haven't already guessed this, I envy you so incredibly much for getting time with my son and having a hand in what B does with his daddy-time. Having to sit back and let the woman who was the beginning of the end for my first and only relationship take over so much of my son's life is fucking hard for me. I'm pushy, I know that. I apologise if I make you paranoid. But honestly, if someone you hardly knew seemed to have such a large influence on your only child, wouldn't YOU want to check things out as much as you could?

Future warning: I'm going to keep using my journal this way probably way into the future. I usually don't mention names anyone who doesn't know me directly would understand. And those who know me directly either already know about my life or don't read this blog. So drag me to court if you're unhappy. If not, please leave me alone.

Thank you.

Yesterday... my god. I hardly know where to start.

So. The day dawned where Pea would start his days with daddy. We set a time according to his naps and meals, so he would be as alert and happy as possible for the switch. Pea and I were ready. Things were packed (mostly), Pea was happily puttering around, pointing at all the playthings put in bags and such. And we waited. And waited. No B. Finally I texted him and asked where he was and I simply got a message that said he'd leave right away. As in: He hadn't even started moving yet before I reminded him.

First kick in the gut.

Anyway, he showed up, everything seemed good. Except for the fact that Pea kept falling and hurting himself. Apparently his focus was less than perfect. He happily took a walk with us, though and all seemed well, until we were at B's door. He stopped with a sort of brain fart expression on his face and went: "Oh. I kinda forgot. Floozie is in there." *insert various incredulous faces and noises here*

Second kick in the gut.

I decided to suck it up for Pea's sake and we went into the apartment. All seemed well, but the original plan had been for B to do the heavy lifting, but I was so upset that I decided to go back for the last bits myself, while B gave Pea a clean diaper on his brand new changer. I went back home, sniffling and shaking, gathered the last bits and went back. When I got there, Pea was still unchanged, because it turned out he was terrified of the changer. To calm him down, I took care of his diaper on the couch. When I asked for something to wipe his rear with, I was handed... cleaning wipes. You know, for windows and such. I was horrified. I snarled and the fact tha Floozie seemed to be the one who knew where everything was certainly didn't help any.

Third kick in the gut.

We found some baby wipes (which I knew where was because I packed them for the asshole myself... pun intended). When the changing was over, B seemed to have a little trouble figuring out how his weird, new diaper bin worked, so I asked when he'd got all this baby stuff. "Yesterday," Floozie remarked calmly. I was so angry. I asked B several days ago if he was just about ready for Pea and he had lied to my face (again!!) and said that he just needed the bed made up.

Fourth kick in the gut.

That piece of information made me shake and cry right there in front of Floozie and Pea, and I was angry and worried. So I asked B seriously if he was absolutely 100% sure that he was ready to take care of Pea. Because if there was ANY doubt, I would take him back with me. My heart wouldn't be able to bear it if B wasn't completely sure. B has always had this habit of pausing awfully long between his words or before answering. I always found it marginally irritating, but yesterday every second cut my heart like a fucking knife.

Fifth kick in the gut.

He did seem to be sure and certainly willing, so I had to splint my fractured heart and let him take over. I wasn't even inside my apartment before I was sobbing my heart out. I called my mother for a long, sobbing conversation and then went on to rant to a friend online. It took me a little over an hour to stop crying.

There are so many issues with this I hardly know what to do. If he makes a habit of being late for picking up Pea, we are going to have words.

If he doesn't even read shit before putting cleaning chemicals on his son's skin, then we REALLY need to have words!!

I'm so fucking worried. It like a constant ache deep in my gut. I try to calm myself. Pea is going to be at daycare most of the week and B is willing to make it work. And if the will is there, the rest will come. Still, I have everything ready to pick up my baby at a moment's notice and it makes me feel somewhat better.

I could rant on for a while about this, but I'd better stop before I start crying again.

That's it. It's over. At least for me. I found out to my suprise yesterday that B had counted everything as over since we decided to get divorced. Clearly we're not on the same page with this. :oS

Anywho, I'd just like to rant through the last couple of days and get it out of my system.

( The rest under here. )

... barely. Only thanks to you guys, I'm sure! *hugs*

Good news is I've got internet! WOHOO! The bad news is that today has been one, long nightmare.

First of all, guess who got to pack all of B's crap? Go on, take a guess! Thaaaaat's right. Me. B packed maybe 3 boxes. I packed the last 20. *dies* I hate packing. Hate it like burning. I've moved so many times in my life and I hate the whole deal. But packing in particular.

B's only comment was: "But you're so good at it!" Gee, I wonder why...

So. About 8.30 AM, my mother picked up Pea, who was more than happy to go with her. That was a relief. From there it went downhill.

B had arranged for his brother (with girlfriend) and a mate coming over to help move. The brother got sick and the mate forgot. :o( So we had a while of panic while looking for other people to help us. We managed to find B's sister (who was sick too, but willing to help) and his cousin, who thankfully is quite buff and was ready to move the whole damn flat on his own if he had to. Meanwhile I persuaded my mother to keep Pea overnight. It will be his first night away from home. He seems to be doing fine, but I'm worried anyway. It's a mommy thing, I'm sure.

So we got on with the move. One of the first things I did was smash my hand with a table, so that was fairly uncomfortable for most of the day. Even though it was overcast, it was hot and humid all day, so I sweated and gasped my way through the boxes. And with sweating always comes the chafing. Thighs, breasts and under-arms. Ow. And as an added bonus, it seems my "intimate problem" is getting worse. It's itchy and painful everywhere "down there" and it's been driving me crazy all day. Can't wait for my check-up in 1½ weeks.

As a final poke in the eye, B apparently decided that Sunday was too long to wait to be alone, so he grabbed his personal effects and left. I had always expected him to stay until Sunday, but I guess not. Which means that I'm now all alone. Only a few bits of B's stuff left here and there. And mess. A whole freakin lot of mess. Dust, gunk, clutter, trash and left-over plastic bags everywhere. Guess who's cleaning that up? Yup.

So. B and his mate will be coming by tomorrow to pick up the last bits and then I guess I'll be all on my own. With Pea, of course. Counting down to my very first week alone since... wow... I can't even remember when I was last alone for that long.

I can't decide whether to be more excited or terrified. Currently I'm somewhere in between, with a healthy dash of exhaustion. So tired. And sore. Very sore. My feet are huge, throbbing clumps. Ow.

There was something else... but I forgot. Must sleep. Sleeeeeeep. Night folks!

Moving has begun. I already hurt myself. Ow. Middle finger blue. No time. Stress.

To non-LJ friend- you know who you are- No, I'm not mad at you at all. Just no time. Will reply once my head is back on. Don't worry.

Thinking back, I suddenly realize that B and I had sex once after he slept with floozie. He did say they protected themselves, but even if that wasn't a lie, I'm suddenly considering that my weird discharge and shifting pains (now also when urinating :oS ) could be an STD. Yeikes! It's no secret that floozie has somewhat more sexual experience, so it's definitely a possibility she could pass something on.

I'm going to the doctor tomorrow and I think I'll get another appointment straight away for a full checkup.

God... if this is chlamydia or gonorrea, I think I might snap and be really, really unkind...

Ok, so I'm starting to realize a few things about my fic preferences. First of all, if I read the word "cum/cumming" (as a verb) one more time, I may well spork my eyes out. It just looks bad. *shudder*

Also, today I read two short fics that turned my gender-bender opinion upside down. How can it be that a fic that has them both very much male can make them gag-worthy girly, while a gender-bender fic with complete het sex scene can feel like they're both 100% guys? Talent. That must be it. Which just goes to show that I can no longer say for sure I'm not into gender-bending. Maybe what I'm really not into is bad characterization. Yeah. Probably true. So I guess it's only a matter of time before I find an mpreg I can read without cringing.

Divorce... it sucks. In so many ways, I can hardly describe it. B is a great friend, but he's difficult to live with and right now he's being more difficult than I can ever remember him being. We have 4 days left to pack, and guess how many boxes he's packed? Go on, take a wild guess!

1. One. Just one. And that was because I just emptied it of some stuff, pointed it out to him, and handed him everything to put in it. He promised me I'd have the apartment to myself (meaning all his stuff would be gone) this Sunday. I can see already that this is going to be added to the list of things he's lied to me about.

I've tried to help as much as I can, without actually packing. I refuse to pack all his shit. I really do. Instead, I've separated all of our stuff and put mine to one side, so all he has to do is fill some bloody boxes. And I still wash his clothes, do the dishes and try to make sure everything is running as smoothly as possible. I'm getting really, really fed up. Until now I've kinda frowned at the idea of changing the locks, but it's starting to look tempting. If B is going to come running whenever he feels like it to get more of his stuff or whatever, then I'll bloody well do it. If this is to be MY home, he cannot be allowed to have the run of the place. I even sorted out the (horror) basement so he won't even need to get anything from there!

Things he still needs to do, that I cannot or will not do for him:
-Internet. Decide if he wants to transfer our line to me or take it with him, so I can go ahead and order my own.
-Find more boxes. We do not have enough and he's not making any effort to find more.
-Throw shit away. I asked him nicely to throw away any crap he's not taking with him BEFORE the move, so we have less clutter to deal with.
-Find someone to help him move, other than his parents, who both have bad backs and cannot lift his monster furniture.
-Change his address. (Meaning, letting the county know and such.)
-Find out if he's going to need the freezer, so I can start clearing it out if he does.

And we still need to take some time to separate all the kitchen stuff. *le sigh*

The most exhausting thing about this is taking all the damn initiative. Not to mention that I'm feeling the grief of it all quite heavily right now and I'm crying a lot.

I just want it all to be over.