Hope.

I sit in the office, unable to focus on the unread emails piling up in my inbox.  A piece of me feels empty, alone and in need of comfort.  A piece of me I am becoming more and more convinced I may have been born without.  I can't place my finger on it.  I can't explain more than the simple fact that I am acknowledging something is missing.  I don't know what this something is, but it's gone, and I feel incomplete.

I sit at my desk, wondering where to begin; not just with work but with my life, suffocating me as each minute passes.  The feeling of isolation can be unbearable, and if you've never experienced it, be grateful. 

Typing out texts, only to not send them because there's no place or time to be vulnerable today.  Nobody wants to hear it; not co workers, the world of facebook.  Nobody.

I am equally to blame for wanting to keep my feelings to myself today.  I'm not the type of person to blame others, and I'm sure as hell not going to start today.  Or is that my problem?  Do I want to bear responsibility for too many things around me, so much so that I suffocate myself? 

I'm happy with my life 353 days a year.  It's only about one day, every month, that I find myself disgusted, isolated and alone.  I wonder if I ever were to let someone in; would they be able to handle me on these dark seemingly hopeless days?  I fear the worst, and don't dare expect the best; although would expecting the best be some sort of a self-fulfilling prophecy? 

In one of my classes we are studying a woman from the 1940's who undertook a moral journey.  Since the beginning to class, I almost feel like the class should be studying me.  I go back and forth with my own morals (or lack thereof) on a regular basis.  The more we study her, perhaps the more I'll begin to understand myself; as I see far too many debaucherous comparisons between our lives (save for the fact that I'm not living in the 40's, nor am I jewish).

I'm ready for my life to adopt a cheesy saying like "it's come full circle."  (at least I think I'm ready).  I sure as hell know these once a month repeats of feeling gross are becoming less and less enjoyable as each one passes.

At least there are 353 days in a year that I'm more content than any one of those twelve.  Hope.

Seriously Life....Settle down already!!

I'm am crabby today. Downright pissy, actually...and instead of unloading on a friend and burdening them with my petty bullshit, I'm unloading it here...because, why the hell not?

My LOVELY mother (insert copious amounts of sarcasm here) and I have not been on speaking terms for over a week because she had the audacity to insinuate that I was a bad mother because I had asked for help watching my son to go to an all-attend work meeting which announced the layoff of seven employees from my office. Thankfully, I was not a victim of this layoff, however, my office is very small and very close, so a good friend of mine was. In lieu of going STRAIGHT to pick up my son when the meeting was over, I drove to my coworkers house...she had left the office BEFORE I had arrived for the meeting, and was sitting at home alone, wallowing in the news that she would no longer be employed.....so, I did what any friend would do...I went and made sure she wasn't alone, listened to her vent, and was there.

Ya know, it would be one thing if I unloaded my son on my mother and her husband ALL OF THE TIME, but the fact is, I don't, especially because bullshit like this happens. She (for whatever reason) becomes a jealous bitch, and I won't tolerate her snarky attitude. I am open and up front with her, and tell her I don't understand or appreciate her attitude and that I refuse to fight with her...but after I hear that she's spread her ugly opinion to my father (the man whom she cheated on and divorced 11 years ago) I consider the line crossed.

I'm done with her...which makes me equally happy and sad. Does anyone want to adopt a 28 year old single mother and her 5 year old son?

Speaking of five-year-olds...holy shit has he been pushing my buttons lately. Where do I even begin? Oh, I know! How about finding my work clothes smeared with his shit?! Yeah, you read that right. He literally decided to wipe his ass with MY CLOTHES!!!! I swear to god.

His response: "It will come out in the laundry, mom."

...You'd also think Kindergarten would be a BREEZE OF A YEAR for the parent of a school kid. WRONG. Kindergarten has been hell thus far. From a call from my son's teacher explaining that he was put in a Kindergarten version of detention called the "sit and think room" from bashing a kid in the face with his lunch box, to hearing daily that his name has been put on the board because he isn't listening...oh, and HERE's a good one...he had an older kid do his damn homework for him!! Yup...my son is "that kid."

Trying to be a "fun mom" we bought three pumpkins over the weekend as part of my son's reward for not getting his name on the board on Friday. Last night, as part of a reward for my son behaving at a wake we had to attend, we got to carve the pumpkins. OF COURSE the safe pumpkin knife broke after the first pumpkin...and OF COURSE it was 9pm so we couldn't run out to get another knife. Do I wait until today to carve the rest of my pumpkins? Nope. That would be TOO easy. Instead, I try to use my six inch serrated knife....I know you know where this is going.

Yup. I put that damn knife into the tip of my thumb. I let out over a dozen expletives, attempted to control the massive bleeding amongst the throbbing pain to see just how far the knife went into my thumb (about 3/4 of a centimeter, enough to warrant a lot of blood, not enough for me to justify an embarrassing trip to the ER). Typically, I could give two hoots if I was single or in a relationship...unless something tramatic like lodging a six inch serrated knife into the tip of your thumb happens....moments like those I hate the fact that I'm single and alone.

Not only was I fighting tears of physical pain, but those are the moments in my life when the tears of my loneliness creep in...and MASSIVE amounts of ugly-crying inevitably happen.

I responded as level headed as possible after that, shaking as I tried to unwrap fingertip band aids with my teeth, and downing 1000 mg of ibuprofen, then calling it a night.

Today hasn't been much better, although, as I got into my car at lunch time some sappy song was playing on the radio about keeping your head up and blah blah blah. I looked at my car radio, and said "Dude, I'm trying, alright?! Lay off."

Sunday Blues

Today, I sit and I cry. I cry about things that are not. I cry about things that could be, but won't. I sit. I cry.

I know my hormones are bringing about this intense surge of eeyore syndrome. I know it will (most likely) only last today and tomorrow I will wake up with strength to shelve these emotions.

I want a home with a yard for my child to play in, and I cry because I don't foresee that happening before he is in kindergarten (or ever). My credit is horrible, and my income is just enough to keep the lights on, and pay daycare.

I cry because others around me are afforded great opportunity, and I wonder why I haven't been afforded the same because I work just as hard, if not harder (yeah, I am the complete and total makings of a solo pity party...).

I cry because my relationship with my father has faded into nothing, and it kills me.

I cry because my mom has a new found freedom that doesn't include me, but her "boyfriend" and the nearest bar or bottle of beer.

I cry because my brother is going to be sent to war, and I cry for his daughter and the possibility that she might not ever know her father.

I cry because the hope of me finding a man to compliment my life seems impossibly impossible.

I cry because I feel like I am failing my child. Yes, he might not think so today...but in 20 years I fear he will look back and hold animosity towards me...for not affording him a stable nucleic family that I had growing up....

I sit alone, and I cry.