Tis 8:30 a.m. Already today I have been left a comment chastising me for calling CBT bullshit. (Oh, I am a bad bad girl for having my own opinion on something that failed me, please oh please forgive me for my world will crumble if some random net person dislikes me.)  I went out to start the car and of course, Ms “I don’t do mornings” doesn’t bother with proper shoes or gloves or a coat…So I slipped on the snow, one shoe flew off, and a bare foot and two bare hands landing in the snow as I landed on my ass. EXCELLENT! I had to come in and change as I was wet and my hands so cold I was in pain. My kid is glued to the Spongebob game on her Leapster so she wouldn’t even  feed the outside cat for me, let alone express concern that I busted my ass.

THEN to improve my attitude…After a month without a single fucking problem…The car dies about sixteen times getting her to school. No, that is not being dramatic when you’re in line letting kids out and literally have to stop sixteen times. So to add to my frustration was the paranoia that some jackass would be on their phone and pull forward while I was stalled and I could hear my mother screaming in my head about her driving record, her insurance, her her her….Apparently, I can only drive safely when the temperature is over 30. Which means for the next ten day forecast I am fucked.

Right when I thought something was finally going well.

Oh, well. At least yesterday wasn’t too traumatic. I even set my phone alarm and remembered my p.m. lithium. I may get my levels right enough for a blood draw before next year, yay. My kid didn’t behave badly. I wrote about seven pages in my fiction story which I’d thought DOA due to all the stress with the donor. (And I am sorry if it’s an affront to feminism or whatever, but I still wish I’d left well enough alone cos NO amount of money is worth letting him disturb my psyche to this degree.) I started reading a book called the Cobra Event I got at Salvation Army last week. Got forty pages in before melatonin kicked in.

Ah, melatonin. I figured it being a supplement and all it would be minus the bizarre dreams that come with script sleep meds. Wrong. The other night, I had this nightmare I was back in high school, having to take gym class and shower amongst the masses. EWWWWW.  Last night’s fucked up dream de jour was about the television season and how it’s making me wait like four months for Empire and such and I was ranting at the TV execs.. I can assure you I did not go to sleep with either of these things on my mind, so what is my psyche trying to tell me? That I am traumatized and frustrated? I already knew that, ffs.

I was right yesterday, btw. When I gave myself permission to do nothing , I actually managed to do dishes and clean all the cat boxes and take out all the trash. I did more laundry, though the folding thing isn’t looking like it will happen. I am TRYING. And ya know, if my poor housekeeping is such a big deal, maybe the donor should pay child support and I could take twenty or so of my money every other week and have someone come in and help me keep up the housework. Not like I am on a soapbox declaring myself stable and sane. I may need help, as much as it galls me to ask for it. (Yeah, there are a few of you I have come sooo close to emailing on the nights the dark thoughts set in and I was scared I might listen to them…But my stubborn streak just wouldn’t allow me to “upset” others with my bullshit.)

After my mother’s “He’s gonna take her away from you!” declaration I have experienced a great deal of paranoia and self doubt. I admit, our trailer is falling apart. The car is falling apart. We get used stuff or dollar store stuff. BUT the one thing I have provided her with since the day she was born is, stability. Same home she’s always known, mom always with her or comes and gets her from grandmas or school. She is fed, clothed, she has toys, she goes to school like clockwork, I pick her up like clockwork, we have our routine every day…

The irony of how unstable I am and yet providing what is essentially the most important thing for a child- stability.

That’s gotta count for something with the court right? Should the donor try to make a play for joint custody or whatever to avoid paying support. Why else would someone say they needed to consult a lawyer on a matter of child support? R is predicting the donor is going to ask for a DNA test to prove she is his, thus delaying payment even longer. Fine, I have zero doubts. If you’re with one person only for three years, it kinda leaves you with them as the baby daddy or immaculate fucking conception.

The stomach aches and anxiety all this is causing makes me wish I’d left well enough alone. I mean, if you think about it…Here’s this guy, who snuck out his stuff and ended the marriage with a call, has ignored the child, and I am still the one who’s paying a lawyer so we can get it all settled. The donor wins again, just like he did with his other wives. He never pays for shit, he always makes them do it, while vilifying them. Yet we’re all good enough to raise the children he can’t?

Yeah, I’ve got an attitude today.

I think it is well earned, if only by frustration and anxiety.

Why oh why did I have to rock the boat by letting myself get sucked back into the donor’s vortex of deception?

K. ‘Nuff woe is me.

I got this guy for a buck at Dollar Tree a week or so back. It’s a pillow pet peewee. I call him Count Crocula.

crocula spite of fifteen plus years playing word games on neopets (no, I don’t interact with the children)…It hit me. I found this in my bedroom from some yard sale stuff I got a while back. It is called a uni and yet….IT IS A FUCKING PEGACORN!


*Yes, I keep some stuffed animals, NO, I don’t care if you think it makes me a child. I will cut you so bad with a pegacorn horn you’ll wish I hadn’t cut you so bad with a pegacorn horn.*


33 Responses to “Attitudes-day”

  1. Its our pegacorn mascot! He needs a cool name like count crocula (which is awesome) And i sleep with a stuffed Sven. I am 36 and sleep with a stuffy like I’m 8. To those who scoff at us, sue us. HEY! That’s how we will get our money to take care of our kids!!
    And email any time. That’s what WP friends are for. Yeah, sorry, I stepped in mushy feelings again. My bad.

  2. Your cuddly toys are adorable! I can’t sleep without my cuddly unicorn and anyone who has anything bad to say about soft toys can go fuck themselves with their withered dried out hearts made of coal. More soft toys for the rest of us.
    Glad you got some writing done, sorry you fell in the snow, hope your knee stops hurting soon.
    As someone who would rather be called antifeminist than do something to please angry women wearing potato sacks, I fully agree that sometimes you’ve got to do what’s best for you. I never reported two different rapes because I knew I wasn’t mentally up to being dragged over the coals for someone else’s crime and it pisses me off when people think all this crap is as easy as black and white.
    Don’t let anyone invalidate you, you are a strong person with balls of steel for all the shit you put up with.

  3. Pegacorn Mascot de Sade is very adorable! He shall be worshipped.

  4. I’m so forgetful, I’m Dory from ‘Finding Nemo’. I sleep with my favorite invisible stuffed animal! !!!

  5. andrewsalaterllie Says:

  6. At least the judge can smile when he reads “attacked the other person with the horn of a mythical creature for insulting the plaintive’s soft toy collection”
    Then you can implicate ‘Donor’ as an accessory and hold it over his head, sure the other (ex) wives will be happy to offer witness statements to convict him!

    And I raise you your soft toys for a Lego collection!!

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