Three Days To Crazy
This afternoon, someone's coming to (hopefully) buy one of Ben's old bikes.
Tonight, someone's coming to look at our house.
Tomorrow, someone else is coming back to look at our house (again).
Our house is in a complete state of disaster. Boxes and laundry and shit everywhere.
Still no word on child support. Still no word on a final order from the judge. Still no word from my attorney as to what we can do regarding the lack of child support. (I assume this is because he fears telling me what I already know--that my chances of ever collecting are slim and none.) Still no word from db other than the occasional bullshit email wanting "information" that he's already obtained on his own.
Panic is starting to set in. Panic that I'm not going to be able to get another job, that db's not going to pay child support, that I'm going to have to stay here and finance my own maternity leave, that when I do return to work we won't be able to afford childcare, and that we're going to end up fucked with a capital Fuck. Panic that this whole idea of having a second child was a big silly lapse of reason on our part. Panic that I may have finally lost my mind because, big silly lapse of reason or not, I have no intention of letting that stop me because somehow, some way, something has to work out.
It has to. Because I fucking deserve it. Because I've fucking been to hell and back over the past several years, and I deserve some good shit to happen to afford me a normal, happy life. Because my husband's a genuinely good and decent person and he, too, deserves happiness.
Still, despite my fresh, strange new optimistic streak, the panic. It's hitting me hard. I'm about to fly out of my pants this morning from the tension.
So now I'm going to go eat.
Tonight, someone's coming to look at our house.
Tomorrow, someone else is coming back to look at our house (again).
Our house is in a complete state of disaster. Boxes and laundry and shit everywhere.
Still no word on child support. Still no word on a final order from the judge. Still no word from my attorney as to what we can do regarding the lack of child support. (I assume this is because he fears telling me what I already know--that my chances of ever collecting are slim and none.) Still no word from db other than the occasional bullshit email wanting "information" that he's already obtained on his own.
Panic is starting to set in. Panic that I'm not going to be able to get another job, that db's not going to pay child support, that I'm going to have to stay here and finance my own maternity leave, that when I do return to work we won't be able to afford childcare, and that we're going to end up fucked with a capital Fuck. Panic that this whole idea of having a second child was a big silly lapse of reason on our part. Panic that I may have finally lost my mind because, big silly lapse of reason or not, I have no intention of letting that stop me because somehow, some way, something has to work out.
It has to. Because I fucking deserve it. Because I've fucking been to hell and back over the past several years, and I deserve some good shit to happen to afford me a normal, happy life. Because my husband's a genuinely good and decent person and he, too, deserves happiness.
Still, despite my fresh, strange new optimistic streak, the panic. It's hitting me hard. I'm about to fly out of my pants this morning from the tension.
So now I'm going to go eat.
posted by Mitzi Green at 9:13 AM
1 Comments:
You've been deserving good things to happen for you for months now. How you cope with all the crap I don't know but I think you're an incredible woman.
Sending positive vibes, crossing my legs, fingers, eyes and toes for something good to happen really soon. (db driving off a cliff would be a good start).
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