I think my kids and my job are the only reason I am still alive at this point. I’ve forced myself to keep busy so that I don’t have spare time to sit and think about the fact that my life was absolutely ruined over someone else’s inability to seek mental health help despite an entire year of me begging. Hell I even gave a timeline and when I stuck to that timeline, it got me screwed over royally. In the past I’ve always been a doormat for men’s shitty behaviors, that was the first time I had ever actually stood up for myself and put myself first. Worst part is, I wasn’t kicking the dude out or even asking him to get a job. I was being nicer (again) than I should have been, which seems to be a growing trend of mine.

I miss being in my 20s when I could abuse my body without consequences, ahhh the glory days. Now being a solo parent and chronically poor I’m stuck to basically raw dog emotions and life with the slightest bit of reprieve from the THC that the lovely state of Massachusetts so graciously gives me a medical patient card for. Without that I would probably have lost my job, my kids and my damn mind. I feel like I’m a ticking time bomb and that I’m constantly waiting for another shoe to drop and me to just completely explode. My poor therapist is absolutely horrified by all this, which I’m getting really sick of having that reaction from therapists in general. Over the years I’ve traumatized quite a few of them explaining what the troubled teen industry was and how I was handled as a teenager (inappropriately and immorally). Obviously this comes with the territory of working with grad students, I look at it as I’m exposing them to a peek into what their careers are going to look like, and in some cases that’s cleaning up the messes of their own colleagues.

I want more than anything just to have normal first world problems again. I miss when a big bill was my biggest stressor. I miss the simplicity of the worst thing in my life being financial stress, like now I have those stresses on-top of the Sci-Fi horror shit. I miss my nervous system being relaxed. At this point I get my only nervous system breaks in the form of a ridiculously gorgeous dude (who somehow humors my ugly ass, no clue why). But even I know that all good things come to an end so that’s another temporary bandaid that doesn’t actually fix anything (although it’s a nice distraction and the only time I can sleep without nightmares so I’ll take it).

I don’t have the ability to sit here and fake gratitude, but I do think it’s important that I continue to open my mouth and tell on myself because I’ve learned that letting all this fester to myself I end up doing things that are ridiculously stupid (and usually physically painful as well, I’m not a bright cookie in my choices of self destruction). So here I am blabbing on myself while simultaneously hoping that sharing my mid life crisis/life being ruined can help just even one person feel less alone in their messy divorce. I’d sell my soul to have had my marriage end in some normal way- like an affair with a hot blonde. Heck I would have been more accepting of him being gay than the reality of what actually ruined my marriage.