Why is avoidance a bad coping mechanism?

Had a meltdown at the shop today.

Probably,at least in part, due to forgetting to take my meds this morning, I did not sleep well last night and this morning was just in a walking coma.

Burst into tears.

R was witness.

I was humiliated and mortified.

Even tried to call my counselor but she was with someone.

All this negative stuff started floating around in my head.

How I screw up everything I touch.

How ruin every relationship I have ever had.

How the Donor told me none of it was my disorder and it was just my personality that makes such a difficult wretched human being.

That ya know, R couldn’t handle me, either, so he’s probably secretly siding with the Donor, because I am just that broken and hopeless.

That maybe I’d be better off dead because Spook deserves better.

That maybe I’d better just sign the damn papers and suck up the fact that the Donor once again gets off with no responsibility for his actions and skates off into the sunset to do it all again to some other unsuspecting woman who just wants to be loved….

I wanted it to work, I tried so hard, I was willing to sacrificed every last vestige of myself to have my family in tact, right or wrong.

I know now it was wrong because we were both terribly unhappy even if he was lying about it.

I was going by what I was being told.

Never mind he was lying every time his mouth opened.

I meant well.

But again, I send another one running into the night.

Yet how can I be such a good mom if I am such a horrible partner in a relationship?

Anyway, the dark thoughts consumed me, and I came home to take my meds, then went back…which was when the tears flooded and wow, as nice as he was about it, I bet R was thanking his lucky stars he kicked me to the curb so he doesn’t have to deal with the mood swings and drama.

Which just made me feel even worse about myself.

I didn’t ask to be bipolar. I don’t like this shit. I do everything I am supposed to do and I STILL can’t seem to “get well.”

At least the men get to walk away. I don’t have that luxury.

It sucked. I was just…I kept telling myself “you’re not weak, you are stronger than this, toughen up.”

The tears just kept coming.

I HATE crying with an audience.

I should have just called him and told him I had a stomach ache and wouldn’t be in. Which isn’t untrue, I’ve had a stomach ache for three days now, not to mention hyperventilating panic attacks, sleeplessness, loss of appetite, and the desire to do nothing but sleep because it hurts to think.

And here I sit at 5:30 pm Wednesday, watching the time tick by slowly because even after the emotional roller coaster day from hell, I cannot relax yet for I have to wait til 7pm and go see some ambulance chasing lawyer who does a free legal advice clinic every week on this night for an hour.

I sincerely doubt anything will come of it except him telling me to suck it up, sign the papers, and move on.

I keep asking myself and soul  searching to see if I am being petty or paranoid or ridiculous or vindictive.

I do not believe I am.

The man, has after all, proven to be a pathological liar, a coward, and a chronic deadbeat dad.

I do not believe wanting to be in court when the judge handles the custody/visitation/support manner is off base.

God, I do NOT want to go do this. From what I have heard this lawyer is an ass who’d sue his own mother if it meant getting a dime. Since The Donor and I have no money, I don’t see him wanting to dirty his hands with our little drama.

Like I do,.

If it had all just been spelled out and agreed to like human beings, none of this would be happening. The Donor did this, I didn’t.

And for all I know he’ll go into court and claim to have paid support all along and I denied him seeing his kid.




Paranoid or not, I learned the hard way he is not to be trusted.

I keep trying to think positive, as in maybe this lawyer will give me some good advice, but my routine has been upset by having to go do this at 7pm and take Spook to mom’s again and…I do not do well with deviation. At all.

It’s almost like I become paralyzed with fear at the prospect of being away from home after 5pm.

Why can’t I just avoid this anxiety all toegther and say fuck it and sign the papers?

Let him have his way once again.

But I KNOWwhy.

I once tested him, just to see if he was a good man, because my paranoid gut was telling me he was not.

He was talking about a better paying job and how it would give us more money and I told him, “WEell, you know if (his son’s mother) comes after you for child support, she’ll get more of your paycheck so you wn’t be naking more at all.” (Yes,I know bitchy comment but I needed a reaction.)

And what he said was, “Oh, she won’t come after me, she can’t afford a lawyer.”

Any man who would say that, and feel no responsibilty toward his own flesh and blood without a court ordering him to do so…

deserves a bitch like me making him step up for a change. He owes me nothing, but he owes Spooky big time.

I’ll have my nervous breakdown after I meet this ambulance chaser, as R calls him.

It can’t hurt,right?



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