This month flew by, I truly don’t know my head from my ass anymore at this point. I’ve focused every bit of my energy on making sure my kids are fed, bathed and have their homework done and I manage to shower and eat at least one thing per day so I don’t accidentally die in my sleep. My rib cage is fully exposed again and I’m back to looking like I was just on a vicious cocaine bender. My neck is hollowed out, there’s visible skin from the drastic amount of weight I’ve dropped since April. Looking back at photos from April to now it’s like my Graves’ disease is back in full force but my thyroid labs are all reading as still in remission.

I wish my Graves’ disease was back, that would explain my weight loss, hair loss, extreme rage and overall hatred of everything. But no this is just all symptoms of divorce and extreme stress. I apologize to my kids about 7 times a day and I repeatedly explain to them that none of this is their fault and that my mother and I will always be there for them. I resent the ever loving shit out of my punk ass ex husband for this one though. I don’t think this rage is going anywhere anytime soon despite the fact that it’s rotting my body from the inside out and is probably going to result in me having a heart attack. My tachycardia has returned and I’m finding myself with a resting heart beat of 140bpm just from thinking about what happened.

Works a good distraction, as much as 3 days off in a row is nice it’s 3 days I have to sit with myself and I’m not too thrilled with how that’s been going lately. My desire to hit a mosh pit and get annihilated is very real though. I’ve sworn to retire from mosh pits as of 2022, I’ve made a couple passes thru which the most recent one lasted 45 seconds before I was tossed like a rag doll and lost my shoe. The amount of sheer rage I have brewing though that’s really my only legal option to get that one out.

I wish I could share some form of a happy update but there just isn’t one. I’m existing, miserable, and not thriving in the slightest. My kids are happy and doing amazing in school, my mothers even got my daughter enrolled in a musical bells class (it’s absolutely adorable for the record). These kids really are the only reason I’m alive or doing any of this shit. My goal had been to overdose by 30 but getting pregnant at 29 changed that direction. No shade to the mothers that continued using after having kids, that’s just not my story whatsoever. I’m not going to say I’m lucky there because it wasn’t luck that kept me clean- it was years of suboxone maintenance and intensive therapy that got me to a point where using is just not an option for me no matter how bad things get. Let’s be honest- drug use has never made a single situation better and it costs money I don’t have (nor would I want to waste it on a temporary feeling that’s only going to create more problems- plus I’m too stubborn).

Life is shitty, I’m over it🖕🏻