I hate Canada Day.

It's a tough day for me. It brings back all these memories, ya know? When I was with my ex, it was family tradition. Always on the Canada Day weekend, we'd go to the lake. The whole family. We'd boat and fish, find a beach to relax. Have a fire and drinks. It wasn't a lot, but it was. It was one of the only times of the year that we were all guaranteed to be together.

I'm feeling extra alone this year. I have no friends. Well, that's a lie. I do have friends, a very few select people. I don't have a large crowd, and I'm happy keeping it that way. But here I sit, on my couch, all alone. On Canada Day. The day I hate most in the world.

Don't get me wrong! I am very proud to be Canadian. I love me some poutine and caesars! I just hate this day.

I don't want to rely on someone else for my happiness. I won't rely on someone else for it! My happiness can only be made by me.

I just don't understand why j allow other people to define my sadness then. Take, for example, this guy that I'm dating. I think. He was/is my boyfriend. Now I'm not so sure. I opened up to him, just a bit. And now he's just not speaking to me.

We were supposed to hang out. And for the fourth time in our very short relationship, he has bailed on me. so I told him, I'm upset. That's not cool.

Know what I got?

Radio silence. For 24 hours.

I guess feelings aren't okay. I guess being hurt isn't okay. I guess feeling sad isn't okay. Feeling like you're "less important than" is not okay.

It's just not fair.

Life isn't fair.

I know I sound like a whiny baby, and maybe I am. But it's just not fair.

This song's for you.

https://youtu.be/l3uG4T8pJfw

Happy Mental Health Awareness Month!

AKA "You're Faking It" Month! AKA "Your Problems Aren't Real" Month! AKA "My Problems are the Only Ones that Matter" Month!

Yeah. Can you tell I'm down on this bullshit month? Like, seriously. It's so fucking stupid. Hey, let's dedicate a month to those people who "think" their lives are so bad, and make them believe we care!!!

Yeah. Fuck you. That's what I say.

I'm not faking it.  I contemplated suicide only five and a half weeks ago. I laid in bed, 5 in the morning, and I thought to myself "Huh. I should just do it."

Thankfully I didn't, because my son came to live with me full time shortly after.

Do you know???? Do you KNOW how guilty it makes a parent feel? Seriously. Fuck you. Fuck off. I find out, finally, that my son has been getting verbally and mentally abused by his father. Like... WHAT THE FUCK! How did I not know this? I'm the worst mom ever. I should just kill myself.

Nope. I can't do that. I won't do that. Know why? Because of him. My angel son. My love. The greatest thing in my life. The reason I am alive. My angel son.

My problems ARE real. So get off your high horse. Fuck off. Or fuck the horse. No, don't do that. That's gross. And weird. And maybe illegal? So, please don't do that. But DO fuck off.

I was molested when I was a kid. That shit stays with you. Especially when it's the late 80s or early 90s and the cops are all... Meh... Let's see if he touches you again. Then MAYBE we'll do something about it.

I was picked on. No, bullied. All through school. Grade 4 to Grade 11. Grade 12 was okay, though, because the Bitches had graduated. So it wasn't terrible. But still. Eight straight years of bullying. Fuck off. Be nice. It really is that simple.

I was raped when I was 19. Let's not get into that piece of shit.

After being raped, and molested, and bullied, I was worthless. Or at least I felt worthless. So... Hello abusive relationship! Hello broken nose! Hello butcher knives tossed at my head!

Fuck that piece of shit, too.

Finally, I left. After 11 years! Happy almost anniversary to me! Three years free! Well, never free. Obviously.

Last but not least...

THIS is directed at one person, and one person ONLY. Not sure he'll ever read this or not, but I honestly don't GIVE A FUCK ANYMORE.

Your problems matter. Yes. They do. And I was always there to listen. And I was ALWAYS FUCKING THERE FOR YOU!!!!!! But guess what? My problems matter, too! You are not the only person in the fucking world with mental health issues!

Maybe I've never been hospitalized. That doesn't mean they don't matter. So fuck you, hope you have a wonderful life, stay out of mine, because I'm better off without you. I have friends who actually care about me, and don't just use me like you did for 3 FUCKING YEARS. I mean, I'm stupid for putting up with it. But you're even more stupid, because I'm tired of your shit, and everyone else will eventually tire of your shit, and soon, you'll be all by yourself. Because your problems are the ONLY ones that matter. Soon, very soon, Karma will bite you in the ass. Even more than she already has!

#endrant

Feelin (sorry for) myself

Oy.

I don't know why I like that word so much. Oy. Is it even a word? It's like saying "oh", but fancy like.

So, my grandparents owned a store in my hometown, Village Video. It was a wonderful little store that they literally started in their livingroom. The converted their house into a house/store. It was pretty cool. I remember thinking that was awesome, my grandparents owning a store! My mom worked at it, my grandparents owned it, but I rarely got anything for free! Maybe a candy here and there, lol.

I remember these drinks, I can't remember what they were called. Maybe astro pop or something? It had like beads in it, and they were THE coolest thing since sliced bread! And all I ever wanted was one. Of course, I never had money, and my grandparents wouldn't give me one.

Then this one day, I had enough money, and I got one! And it was a TOTAL WASTE! It wasn't good. It sucked. It was like... because everyone else was having them, I had to, as well.

I think it may have been that moment, subconsciously, that determined that I was never going to follow the masses. Masses are just asses with an m, anyway.

I'm weird. I love being weird. I am my own amazing version of myself. I am 33 years old. I love being alone. I hate being alone. I love puzzles and crocheting. I like awkwardly flirting with cute men, geeky men, sexy men, manly men! And I do mean AWKWARD! It's like "Hey, do you like pickled garlic" kinda flirting. I swear I'm going to be alone forever.

Ugh. Oy. Where was I going with this.

Right.

I am weird. It's honestly my favorite thing about me! And my eyebrows. When they're on fleek that is. Do the kids still say that - on fleek? Anyway... Being weird is so cool. I mean, who wants to be like everyone else? Do I WANT to be 5'8" and 115 lbs? Nope. Do I want teeny tiny feet that can fit in little barbie shoes? Hells no! I love my clown feet! Do I want big breasts? Yes. Yes I actually do. But I'll settle for my big fat ass.

You know, I was coming here to write today, to feel sorry for myself. I really was. I had planned this whole "woe is me I have no one" post. But I have me. And my son. And, really, at the end of the day, what else matters? I don't need fake friends who are only there when it's convenient for them, or only call on me when they need to vent. I need me. That's it, that's all.

The rest is just gravy! And I do love my gravy 😊

Better frame of mind

I just don't get it.

Online dating is SO stupid. It's like... It's so full of shallow assholes. They all want this woman with the picture perfect body, the wrinkle free skin, the non-grey hair. They want someone with huge tits and a 32" waist. Maybe smaller? I don't know what "normal" is. They want someone with no so-called baggage. They're just so fucking dumb!

And then there's me. My body is far from perfect, although happy with who I am. I've got wrinkles, and I'm starting to notice them. Grey hair? Please, I've had it for 8 years, and I love EVERY SINGLE ONE. My waist ain't 32" and I've got a ton of baggage. I am a normal woman! But no one goes past what they see.

No one looks underneath the skin. That sounds weird and sadistic, but it's not. What I mean is, everyone thinks beauty is only skin deep. Am I shallow? Sure. I have standards. But I also take the time and look beyond.

What people don't see about me is my heart. I will randomly buy someone a meal, or give a homeless person whatever cash I have on me. I donate blood as often as I can. Hell, I want to donate a kidney! I would do anything for anyone else.

I volunteer regularly. I am THE most friendly person you'll ever meet! I have a huge heart, and love unconditionally. My son is my world, and I've gone without many time to ensure that he has everything he needs. I will continue to do that until the day I die.

There are so many things about me that people won't take the time to know, because I'm not "picture perfect". But you know what? I am my best version of myself, and that's all I want.

Stuff and things

It's been a long time since I've thought about killing myself.

Yeah, it's a sensitive topic. But be honest - how many of us have thought of it?

I used to drive down 11th Street, towards to water plant, and just think about not stopping... Just keep driving. Press on the gas, and keep going... Straight into the building. Would I die? Would I just hurt myself? What would happen?

For the first time in a long time, tonight, I thought about it. What would happen if I just kept going? Drive into oncoming traffic? Run into a building? Would I die? Would I just hurt myself?

I know I would never do it. I'm not a danger or anything. I love my boy too much.

But I wonder, if it weren't for him... Would I still be here?

Inspiration?

Good day, reader and non-readers alike.

It's been some time since I wrote anything of substance in here. Well, anything other than my depressing, useless shit. I'm so tired of that depressing, useless shit. A co-worker of mine recently started up a blog, and has inspired me to start mine up again.

I'm really not sure what I'll write about. Life. Love. Laughter. You know, the same shit everyone writes about. Do I have life advice to give? No. Am I an expert in anything at all? Nope. I'm not even an expert on the subject of me!

So I don't know. Maybe I'll write generic shit. Maybe I'll write about my love life... Or lack there of.

Which reminds me, speaking of lack of love life, I had a 22 year old message me on POF, said he was looking to chat with an older lady.

WHAT THE FUCK.

When did I become an "older lady"? Man. Did that shit ever make me feel like I hit rock bottom. Am I really a cougar now? Is that my life? Should I just find me some young piece of eye candy with mommy issues?

😂😂😂

Just kidding. I like my men tall, older, preferably with a beard, hilarious, opinionated, loving, brutally honest, independent, stubborn, and loyal. Is that too much to ask?

Okay. That's that for now. Bye!

Today is a bad day.

Today, I am having a bad day.

Fuck, I'm having a crappy week.

I'm going through this "woe is me" phase.  Feel sorry for me, because I feel sorry for me!  Feel sorry for me, because my life sucks.  Feel sorry for me, just feel sorry for me!

I feel so sorry for myself every single day.  I wake up feeling sorry for myself.  I come to work, and I feel sorry for myself.  I go to bed feeling sorry for myself.  I don't want to anymore.  I just don't!

Today, I got pulled into a meeting with the boss duo.  Regarding my attendance at work, among other things.  Boss Lady started with positive things, telling me how good I am doing, how our office has never been this organized or run this well.  How she sees real potential in me.  However, my reputation is starting to ruin that potential.

Apparently, I have a reputation.  And not a good one.  I miss work too much.  I visit too much.  So, I've been sick a total of 7.3 days since July.  I hate making excuses for myself almost as much as I hate feeling sorry for myself, but I suffer from depression and anxiety.  Some mornings, I can't even get out of bed.  For me to only have missed 7.3 days since July, I think that's pretty damn good.  AND three of those days were an actually physical ailment, not just mental.  SO, 4.3 days were missed due to depression and anxiety - NOT BAD AT ALL.  At least in my opinion.

I ended up having a panic attack during this meeting.  It was not good.  I ended up saying things I shouldn't say.  I mean, whatever, they're my feelings, and I deserve to feel my feelings.  But I guess I need to check myself before I wreck myself, right?

Anyway, so I'm feeling good now.  On the Ativan, keeping me together.  Thank god for drugs.

The Truth pt. 2 (AND THANKS!)

Whoa.  I didn't realize the amount of support I would receive from all of you.  The last post I wrote was definitely not easy, but it was easier than I thought it was going to be.  It certainly didn't "flow" like a story should.  But...  it's good to get it all out.  One day, perhaps, I'll take everything I've written and form it into the best chronological story I possibly can.  Maybe.  If I ever run out of things to do!

I figured that, since I had such an outpouring of love from my last post, I'd continue writing a few more of my thoughts and life changing moments down.  It'll be easier, because I'm on a computer this go around.  Although I only have 8 minutes left, so this may be a short one.

Abuse victims often turn into abusers themselves.  It's what they're taught, it's what they learn.  He taught me that "love" was equal to "pain" and "violence".  So, I started to do it back.  NEVER, I repeat, NEVER have I ever shown that type of "love" to my son.  Nor will I ever.

I started having weird blackouts, where I wouldn't remember things.  I don't think it happened often, but it happened enough for me to remember talking about them.  They were weird.  I don't remember what happened during them, either.  Obviously, they were blackouts.  I think it was part of my "fight or flight" life that I had now established.  And I fucking fought.  Was it right?  I don't know, to be honest.  Am I sorry?  Nope.  I'm not sorry for hitting him back.  I'm not sorry for cornering him.  I'm not sorry for locking him in our bedroom.  Not one bit.  Because if I hadn't hit him back, or cornered him, or locked him in a room, I could be dead.  And I really, truly believe that.  Or I could have ended up in the hospital, which I'm surprised never happened.

So I'm not sorry whatsoever for defending myself.  And never, ever will I apologize for that.

I will apologize about the pain I may have caused him.  But never will I apologize for standing up for myself.

I remember after I found out about his mistress, the second family he tried to start.  I flipped the fuck out.  It was a terrible fight.  I threw his clothes off the balcony.  I threw his phone off the balcony.  There was so much yelling, so much screaming, and SO MUCH denial.

The Cycle

And so it has begun again...

First of all, let me start by apologizing in advance to all those whom I love and who love me. The cycle... it's begun again.

My anxiety is back in full swing. And I really don't know what to do about it. It's like... the only thing that makes me feel "normal" is when I am with people. But then my anxiety forces me to stay inside. I don't want to leave. I don't want anyone to come over. I just want no one and nothing. And everything and everyone at the same time.

I'm pushing people away because I fear that they are all sick of hearing about it, and that they are going to leave me anyway. So, before they get a chance to leave me, I'll leave them. Because that's completely normal, right?

I haven't spoken to my boyfriend in over 24 hours. That's weird for me. I can't even go an hour without him! But I'm going through this... this "he's gonna leave me" phase. So, I'm pushing him away.

And it hurts! It hurts me! So why do I do it? Why can't I stop it?

It's the fucking cycle... I just want to be normal.

Willpower, Where Art Thou?

So, it appears as though I may have stupidly deleted my "No, I'm Not Pregnant, I'm Just Fat" blog.  I decided today that I was going to start blogging about my weight loss again, because that seemed to help last time.  So, for now, my blog will change from personal stories to weight loss stories/motivation.

Which, I suppose, is still quite personal to some!  But not to me!

As of this morning, I weigh 213.6 lbs.  Which means that, since my lowest weight of 191 lbs, I've gained 22 lbs.  NOT COOL.

None of my clothes fit.

I get winded walking up the stairs.

Everything aches ALL THE TIME.

I'm getting more and more depressed.  Which leads me to eat more, which causes me to be more depressed...  The cycle goes on.

I'm breaking out in pimples.  AT AGE 31!

My boyfriend and I went to Cypress Hills a couple weeks ago.  I wanted to go hiking.  But I couldn't, because I was sweating and aching and huffing and puffing not even five minutes in.

Worst of all, I am setting a terrible example for my son.

Andrew and I have started taking a class together called MEND (Mind, Exercise, Nutrition, Do It!).  We've been to one class so far, and it was great.  It's a very supportive environment for both of us.  Andrew feels very welcome and comfortable there, as do I.

The other shitty thing is, now that I'm a single mom (half the time), I can't afford nearly as much as I could when I was married.  Trying to come up with delicious, healthy, AND cheap meals is very difficult.  Especially since we both love food so much!  Neither of us like to eat the same thing two days in a row.  We like a variety!

Do you have any delicious, healthy, and cheap meal ideas?

So, to sum things up...  I'm trying to get back on my way to a healthier me.  Time to restart.

NOW.

The Truth

This post contains some really private, graphic stories about my relationship with him. Feel free to read.... or not...

It's time to tell my story.

He and I started seeing each other in 2004. Shortly after getting together, I got pregnant. It was a stressful time, and it wasn't good on our relationship. We started arguing. Things weren't great.

When I was a few months pregnant, things got worse. The first time he hit me, it was with a frying pan. He hit me in the stomach with a frying pan. Right in my pregnant belly. He hit our unborn child. He could have KILLED our child.

And still I stayed. Why? Because he apologized. He told me how sorry he was. He told me he'd never do it again, that he just lost his temper. He was so, so sorry.

Did it happen again? Of course it did. He kept happening. Because of the immense amounts of abuse, because of what he did to me and how he treated me, I don't remember the first years of my son's life. I don't remember his first word, his first steps. I don't remember his first haircut, the first time he laughed. I remember nothing.

Well, that's not true. I remember things, but mostly bad things. I remember the day he punched me in the face while we were driving down Avenue C, and I remember him refusing to take me to the hospital even though my nose was gushing blood because someone saw him do it and he was going to get HIS ass kicked.

I remember getting pelted with boiled eggs because I was peeling them wrong.

I remember getting a whole cantaloupe thrown at my head. A WHOLE cantaloupe!

I remember the time a butcher knife was thrown at me because I was trying to get out of the house because he was angry at me for something.

I remember getting screamed at daily because the house wasn't "clean enough".

I also remember pushing his buttons.... I know I totally did. Not that that excuses his behaviour at all.

I remember the day I found out he was cheating on me. He had just come back from Halifax, and brought me a gift. I was unpacking his bag while he was showering, and I found another gift in the bottom of his bag. I asked him about it, and he said it was also for me! Which I didn't believe... So I looked at his cell phone. "I love you" "I can't wait to be with you" and on and on and on it went...

I memorized the number and texted her. Calling her a home wrecker and all kinds of other names. Once I calmed down, I found out that she had no idea he was with me... he was taking our child to go on play dates with her and her children.

The stories are never ending. I can keep going.

Like the time I found out that he actually picked up a hooker with our son in the car! Brought her back to our house, and in my son's words "went in your room and closed the door".

That's all for today. I've got so much more.... but that's all I'm going to talk about today.

A Happy Post!

347 days. It's been 347 days since my life changed forever.

The last 347 days have been full of victories, triumphs, downfalls, and scares.  It's been 347 days of learning and living and loving. But that also means I've spent 170+ of those days without my strength and unconditional love. It's hard not having him around all the time... but I'm getting used to it.

The last 347 days I've leared so much about myself. I'm loud and obnoxious and overly confident. I'm loving and giving and get easily attached to people and things. I love everything and everyone. I'm becoming better at expressing my feelings, even though I do it in the wrong way sometimes. Okay, not sometimes... more often than not. 

I've also learned that I never ask for help. And I probably never will. But I will always be the first to offer my help! If I ever do ask for help, it's because I REALLY need it. 

I've realized that I've got it pretty damn good. I've got a beautiful brand new car, a roof over my head, clothes on my back, and food in my cupboard. My power is on, and I'm currently watching Netflix, waiting for my turn on my 40" flat screen so I can watch Big Brother. I'm posting this on my smartphone via WiFi. 

I've got it great. Life is good.

Today, I went to Walmart, and there was an older gentleman outside. He stopped me and we spoke for a couple minutes. He's had it rough the last while. He's been ill, so can't work. He's on disability, which we ALL know is next to no money. I asked him what he needed... he said he needs money. I apologized, said I don't have any cash, but I'd gladly pick him something up in the store. He said, "Well, Geez, I'd sure like some Cheez Whiz!" I gladly went into the store, bought him the big jar of Cheez Whiz and a loaf of bread.

Because I'd like to think that someone would do that for me.... or maybe he'll pay it forward when he can. I've got to have faith in humanity, faith that there are good people in the world. 

I've discovered that I'm unconditionally, impossibly, unapologetically, happily head over heels in love with my best friend. I have been since the moment I met him, and I always will be. He's always been there for me. I can't even put into words what he means to me... that's how much he means to me.

I've come to the conclusion that I am an amazing mother. Not only to my human child, but to my fur children as well. My son is becoming a wonderful human being. He's so well-adjusted. He's so smart, kind, well-mannered, gentle, loving, and crazy! I've never seen him happier than he's been the last 347 days.

I've made some awesome friends and strengthened some existing friendships. I've been promoted at work. I bought a new car. I did Drop Zone again, raising almost $4000. I reconnected with my sisters. And I've done so much discovering of myself. It's been difficult at times, but I've done it. 

To everyone that's been a part of this journey, this 347 day journey... I thank you. My son, Andrew. My love, Benny. My daddy! My momma. My sisters, who have always been there for me, even when I wouldn't let them be. My coworkers, who have become like family to me. Beth, Nigel, Cam... they've been with me every step of the journey. All of you, you are my strength... You've given me words of encouragement (and food) whenever I've felt down. I love you all. More than you'll ever know.

She knew that she would be okay....

I seem to only come here when I'm feeling really down.  And today is definitely one of those days.

I'm really lonely.  I miss my son.  I miss my boyfriend.  I miss my best friend.  I miss my job.  I miss everything today.

I'm so...  alone right now.  And I fucking hate it.  I don't like being alone.  Everyone says that I need to get used to it...  I know.  I know I should learn to like being with myself.  But I don't see that ever happening.

I don't even know how to describe how I'm feeling right now.  I want to say depressed?  But it's not depression.  I've been there...  This is not depression.

I just wish I knew what it was.

One step forward, two steps back

So, today sucked. I wake up every morning with a smile on my face and a good perspective in my head! As the day begins, it slowly starts to fade... at least these days.

I had a breakdown at work today. In the middle of a meeting. We were talking about work related stuff, about people making mistakes.  And... my whole life just flashed before my eyes in that instant.

When I say I had a breakdown, I mean, ran to the bathroom, hardcore started crying, went to my car, drove for half an hour, couldn't stop the tears.

My mental health is so fucked right now. I'm seriously all over the place. One second I'm happy as fuck, bouncing off the walls with joy; the next second I'm raging angry about something or another. One second I'm in love, the next I'm in hate. Like... I'm just all over the place! I wish I knew how to keep my emotions on check.

I'm tired now. Goodnight.

❤

Today was a good day. Well, a better day than yesterday, anyway.

I think I'm ready now to be alone. I think I've decided that it's time to heal and be by myself. I've deleted my plenty of fish account (I know, I know...). I've deleted many phone numbers. I'm really not sure what changed between yesterday and today, but something did.

Today, I woke up feeling a sense of peace. A sense of happiness. A sense of contentment. I'm not sure what's going to happen to those feelings once Andrew leaves to go back to his dad's. I'll just have to see. I need to find something to keep my busy. A hobby. Maybe exercise? It should be exercise, actually. I've gained 5 pounds this year already. That's neither here nor there.

The point is, it's time. I'm ready. I'm feeling strong and happy and ready. Bring it on.

Seven days.

It's been a rough week.

I had plans. I was so happy with my life. So happy with everything that was happening. So happy with the way things were going. And I blew it. I'm such a fucking control freak! And I have to have EVERY relationship in my life "defined".

I wasn't wasting my time with you. I was living my life with you! And now, that's gone. Now, we don't speak. Now, we can't even look at each other. And I hate that, because I LOVE you, and you became my best friend. You were the only person I trusted not to hurt me.

And I fucked it up. Just like I fuck everything up.

This last week has been horrid. Actually, horrid doesn't even begin to describe the way it's been. It's been stress. It's been sadness. It's been tears. It's been sickness. It's been fucking BINGE EATING which I haven't done in years. It's been so horribly miserable not having you at all.

Heartbroken

Today, I hurt.

I wish I could pinpoint exactly why. After being broken up for 3 weeks, you'd think it would get easier. Well, it's not. It seems to be getting increasingly difficult being without you.

I cry. And I don't like crying. But everytime I think of you, I cry. I can't force you to want me, I know that. I thought we were so great. You complimented me so well! You helped ground me. You gave me life. I loved you...

Who am I kidding. I love you.

I just want you back.  I know you have things to take care of, and I'm trying to respect that. I'm having a lot of difficulty in doing so.

I'm sorry I'm so difficult. I'm sorry if I'm not giving you what you need. It's hard, because what you need is the complete opposite of what I need. You need your space. I need you next to me.

Stronger Than My Greatest Weakness

Well, folks...  isn't life just crazy?

This time last year, I was married.  I was living in a beautiful condo, with a beautiful dog, a beautiful family, a perfect job, a sexy car.  This time last year, everything was so different.

Welcome to 2016.

In May of last year, my husband and I officially separated.  The last 10 months have been some of the most trying months of my life.  There's been so much good, and so much bad.  For awhile there, actually quite a long time, I was letting the bad outweigh the good.  Not cool for a positive and upbeat person like myself.  I wasn't myself.  I couldn't be myself.  I wasn't allowed to be happy.  I wasn't allowed to be selfish and choose myself and my happiness and my life, because I was being reminded daily of what a heinous person I was.

I began to believe it.  I began to believe that I was this monster who tore apart a family and stole everyone's happiness.  I mean, I wasn't happy.  But everyone else was, right?  So...  obviously, that is the most important thing - everyone else being happy.  At least that's how it's always been.  That's truly always been my thinking.

Only this time around, I decided, FUCK NO.  I am going on this journey...  I am going to go on this journey and focus on ME and try to remain strong and find my happiness.

My ex-husband and I lived together until the end of September.  It was a very trying time, those 5 months.  We had days where we got along great.  Days when I could see things potentially working themselves out.  But there were way more bad days than there were good.  Things didn't get better after I moved out, only we weren't fighting in person and in front of our son anymore.  It was all via text message and email and phone calls - which is almost worse!  There is no walking away from that.  Damn technology.

So, I've been here.  Going on 5 months now!  Here, in this place, with my beautiful dog, my amazing son (half time), my dream bedroom.

I've suffered anxiety and panic attacks and depression.  I've had days where I really don't feel like I can do this - just the other night (Sunday night) was one of them.  I still think about going back...  because it would be so much easier for everyone.  Money wouldn't be so tight.  Andrew would have his mom and dad together.  I'd have someone to sleep with at night.  I wouldn't be happy...  but sometimes, I truly think that my happiness is the least important of everything.  Who cares about happiness when everything else and everyone else is great?

But then I give myself a big ol' reality check.  What would I be going back to?  No.  No.  I'm stronger than my greatest weakness.