So, in case you haven't figured it out by now, I'm a fairly pushy little cow. I would say heifer, but since I've calved almost a half dozen times now, that would be technically incorrect. (Please don't ever ask me how I learned that differentiation. Thank you.)
Sometimes, I think that I'm just too much to handle and I say things like:
"I think you should use your time in Denver to decide whether or not you really want to keep doing this with me."
(**Side bar--this was before I was back on the Zoloft. Thank you makers of Zoloft. Even more so, thank you Super Saint Jason for NOT telling me to FUCK OFF that very moment for being a super giant douche canoe.)
Anyway. Back to the point of this post.
Saint Jason and I deal with a big issue of mine a lot. I mean, like, a shit ton. It is this. I have lived on my own for exactly...6 months of my entire adult life. That is it. The first two months were when I moved out of my mother's house before I got married the first time and the last four months were after my second divorce and before I moved in with the S.J.
I have always had a roommate or a husband or, as is the case now, a significant living in sin partner.
So I'm struggling with the independence thing a little bit. I am 34 years old. I'm not fucking 25 and trying to find my wings. I've had CAREERS. Not 1 or 2 but a few and they've all gone bust one way or another. I'm back in school and raising my kids in some very creative ways. I'm doing the very best I can in some very difficult circumstances and somehow making it work.
For fuck's sake, I am the most functionally dysfunctional person I have ever known which is what inspired this entire blog endeavor in the first place! So why am I such a fucking wreck?
(That's strictly rhetorical by the way, please do not flood the comments with your suggestions.)
Anyway, Jason is gone for 10 days. I am alone with the youngest two kids during that time and we've got a lot to accomplish. We have events to plan and attend. We have yards to landscape & homework to do. We have dogs to groom (or kill...that part is still totally up in the air) & blogs to write. We have speech therapy to attend & ex's to keep in check. Holy fucking shit, I'm going to need a Xanax.
Oh wait! Did I mention that I'm supposed to do ALL of this without cussing in front of the kids?!? And there is NO ONE here to help me with that part?! What the deuce? Now, that's just bullshit!
Fuck it. I can do it...all by myself.