These very last breaths
My eyes pulse crimson, dull and tearless
Undoubtedly seized with an unutterable finality;
the last dread emotion. 
Lying in a fishing pond of blood
My recondite beast, scrupulous, untiring machine,
Won't you ever stop breathing...pulsing, pounding
Exquisitely living?
Every day begins with murder
But ends in my quiet, defeated existence;
Another shiny calamity. 

I would brush your scarred and mottled skin
With my fingertips,
In silent reconciliation. 
Kiss your narrow lips,
And wet your tender kneck with my promises
Let me string together your scattered soul,
Let me. 
Only then can I live again. 

Jail

He sent me to jail.  For four days.  It was horror.  If I hadn't of had the small military experience that I have, I am not sure how I would have coped.  But, just as in that movie, Being Flynn, I reminded myself that life is about gathering material.  I was handcuffed, shackled, strip searched and in perpetual lockdown.  I spent so many hours brimming inside my head that I felt I might go insane.  In extreme moments I quoted and requoted Hamlet, Edna Wheeler Cox and Kurt's phone number.  I thought of Mary from my story, albiet not as much as I should of.  I reread Jude the Obscure and many mundane articles from Reader's Digest.  I wrote my terrible thoughts down with a golf pencil and decided that I was far too much in love with my children and far too afraid of violence to kill myself.  I wore socks no thicker than toilet paper and had to use a community toilet that pointed directly towards the face of my celly on the bottom bunk.  I suffered terrible, anxious diarrea and nausea.  I froze in what was supposed to be a sheet and a blanket but what was really just another sheet with texture.  I was eaten alive by bed bugs.  But the worst, I didn't know where my children were. 
I am scared.  I do not want to go back but I may have to.  If that is the case, I thought that maybe I should just rid the world of myself but I do not think I have the guts to do it.  And anyway, in jail there are people with worse lives than me.  That is some reconciliation. 
Kurt bailed me out, took care of my children and now we are moving in with him.  That scares me too.  But not as much as jail. 

Post Suicide

I didn't finish my last blog. It was time to go.  But, there was more to that story.  And my weekend didn't get any better.  I had some pretty tough breakdowns.  I just have no desire to live.  I do not have the energy to go through this all over again.  It doesn't surprise me that Adam is doing this...but my poor son.  What is this doing to him.  How much more fucked up is he going to be and Adam can think about is himself and how he wants his baby.  I do wish I had been smart and gotten an abortion.  Having this child with Adam is the worst thing that has ever happened to me and my family.  And Max is no better off.  He will end up like his dad if I can't get him back...his dad is nothing short than a waste of space.  He is evil and I hate him.    And i miss my son.  I just don't want to go on.  I have no will. 

Suicide Day

My life really never gets any better.  I am very reluctant to write this post and not very excited for others to read it.  But suppose what makes anything worth reading is writing what you most fear.  Adam has kidnapped the baby again and won't let me see him.  It's like having my soul ripped out.  The pain is just about intolerable.  I cannot believe I am going through this again. 

ButI am not sitting on my hands.  I did go and file custody and even temporary custody.  But the very soonest I will be able to see Max is 9/27 and that is killing me.  Every day it is difficult to get up, to stay up and when I am at home I have a hard time doing anything but laying in bed and dealing with my siezed nerves. 

Here is my Tuesday.  I am wretched, scared and Adam refuses to let me see my son.  So, I go to lunch and kurt is there.  He says, "Stop whining."  I go ballistic on him, call into work for the rest of the day and then mull around the homeless for a few hours crying my eyes out. I decide i am giong to kill myself.  I sit under a tree and discover there is a bridge just ahead and that i am going to climb to the top and throw myself off.  I am ready to do this.  But I am hot and have a headache so I lie underneath a tree for a few moments and fall asleep.  When I wake up, my head is pounding so badly I cannot open my eyes.  I realize I need to take care of the blinding headache and stagger towards the trax.  On the way there a man leaning against a building says, "Hey there pretty lady."  I ignore him, thinking he will see my puffy eyes and understand, but he yells out, "Fuck you then."  I walk on. 

This day and last night

I am having a hard time.  I was thinking I had this house...they made think as much....and last night I got a text from the guy that said something to the effect that they were considering someone else and to give them a call.  Which essentially tells me tht I didn't get the house.  And this morning I just don't want to be here at work.  I am going to have to initiate plan B which is to give my kids to their fathers since I cannot support them.  I have failed them.  Again.  And i hate that anyone would read this blog and feel bad for me but it's just the way of things right now. 
I had this awful dream last night.  There was a man who was torturing me, holding me down and pinning my arm to the ground.  But the horrible part was that he was choking someone to death in front of me and I couldn't stop him.  I don't really want to relive it but I woke up and couldn't help but wonder...what the fuck is wrong with my head? 

HIiiiiiiiigh Again

I am having a very difficult time writing.  I am tired of complaining maybe.  But Adam is high again and with the girlfriend and this is my way of documenting all he does so that when we have to go back to court....it's all here.  He butt dialed me and I heard him discussing how many pills he and Alexis had between them and...sadly...how to fill out a financial aid application.  My theory is that if you can't figure out how to fill out a financial aid application for college by yourself, you're not going to do that well in college.  He's brilliant...doing it for the money and yet destined to fail another semester.  Thank God he's not my problem anymore. 

Just thinking

So the landlord actually said..."Would you like to sweeten the deal?"  That was it.  And then, last night he calls me and says, maybe you should keep your options open.  After what happened, I am not sure this is a good idea."  Seriously?  SERIOUSLY?  Fucking serious?  I should sue the bastard.  It was so nuts..the whole thing.  Accusing me of sexually gratifying my current landlord and then I think about it and what I let him do and it makes me ill.  I also know that the only reason why what happened actually happened in because of these stupid PAXIL withdrawals.  I am the stage of intense anxiety right now.  And loathing depression.  I feel like if I were only slightly more disconnected....

The Landlord

I could turn this post into a lurid erotica tale but I think I will just tell the truth.  Last night I was suffering from horrible Paxil withdrawals.  I was shaking and sweating and in a very dissociative state of mind.  However, I had to look at a house last night.  I am met by this really huge black guy who seems kind of strange but kind of attractive.  Well, after looking that house, that I desperately need, I stood there talking to him and yes, I noticed him sweeping my body up and done with his eyes, but did I expect what was to happen next?  He says, "why havent you been paying rent the last two months?"  I say, "My landlord asked me to leave a couple of months ago and he knows I need to save money.  He is a very good man and I know it for letting me stay and not making me pay."  He says, "I don't beleive that.  Are you doing anything else for him?"  I was a little shocked but tell him no.  Then he says, "do you want to do anything extra to get this house?"  I say, "Like what."  And he raises his eybrows and says nothing for a few minutes.  And yes, that's right, he wants IT.  He wants me to give him a blow job to get the house.  He goes and closes the door, locks it, shuts the blinds and he's sweating like a black pig.  I feel torn because I am DESPERATE for a house and it was a nice house but would i do that for a house?  Like a whore?  Maybe. 

Did I do it?  Yes and no.  Mostly no.  But it was strange and scary and why did he instantly think of me like that?  I was shaking like a leaf and and sweating and feeling removed.  I have more to write but must get this posted. 

To Amy:

From: Amy

You know this through and through
Inside and out.
He never feels compelled to look at you
or touch you. 
He has lied and his words sway back and forth
like his contrived affection,
An unyeilding pendulum,
You have given your heart
and soul and he has given it back
and then asked for it again. 
He deosn't want it at all
Unless he can squeeze money
or keys
or a hamburger
from me. 
to me
from him
A loveless smile
and a tap or two of sickness.   

Adam is out of Jail again and I have hardly heard a word from him.  Given that I am coming to an astonishing realization that he is a true psychopath, maybe that's okay.  It bothers me that he isn't contacting me...but I also feel a fragile freedom. FRAGILE freedom. 

PAXIL sucks.

Today I had a borrower deceased call and I hate those.  It was a mother whose 26 year old son had died and she could hardly talk.  I had to ask her horrific questions such as...."where was the funeral home" and "what date did he die" and "what city and state" and so on and so forth.  It is excrutiating.  I could hardly contain my quavering voice and the tears.  I hate those calls.  The mother sounded as much as dead herself.  I cannot imagine the grief.  I don't want to. 

I also haven't been taking my wonderful, wonderous, ever-helpful PAXIL which always tends to make me bleary eyed and over-emotional. 

PAXIL WITHDRAWALS:

Crying
Shaking
Quivering guts
Vivid dreams (with excellent story lines)
Rapid, disconcerting thoughts
Nervousness and severe anxiety...wait...that's normal
Inability to control emotions that are already overwraught and dramatic (see above)
Fatigue.  Terrible, terrible fatigue

In short, I need to go home and take that godforsaken remedy for OCD and panic that I have suffered from my entire life.  I thought about possibly telling those stories because it might help people.  The way I suffered from OCD when I was young.  It was devastating.  It was unlike anything anyone could imagine without actually suffering through it. 

Back To Jail

He has to check in today.  He says he will probably be released tonight.  But...damn if my heart doesn't just sink.  Like a ton of sappy bricks.  I know.  sickening.  Why do I love this man so much? 

Weekend Thoughts

I didn't sleep one wink last night and here I am at work....feeling as though I sound strange and slurred.  I have to think about things a little too hard.  I didn't sleep because the pressure of all of this is a little overwhelming.  My car...still dead.  Adam went and worked on it yesterday for hours and I sat in the hot sun watching cars go by and thinking about how crappy his dad's car looked beside my own crappy car and how Adam's dad can't really walk or stand actually and yet he was working so hard to fix my mostly unfixable car.  And Adam, I found the door of my back seat basically removed and then a screwdriver...where he had tried breaking into my car when his drugs were still in there. So, I was feeling angry the whole time and thinking about what an idiot I am (I seriously am).  But I need that car.  And I need a place to live. 

So, last night (here comes the idiot part) Adam was sleeping over....not with me though...because we weren't exactly on speaking terms and we are both up the whole night.  Finally about 4 am I go into the front room where he has been sleeping with his shirt off (sorry but I love those broad beautiful shoulders) and we have it out.  All of it.  His being with the ubiquitous Alexis the whole time we were together and he says it's all my fault because of all my men (I do have a lot).  But the problem is that....he has nothing anymore.  NOTHING.  No television, no internet, no...well, nothing.  His grandmother moved out of the house and took everything with her.  I feel sorry for him and his father.  His dad has nothing and nobody.  I see this look Adam gets in his eyes and it's just pain.  He is in so much pain.  It hurts me so much to see it even though he has caused so much to so many. 

I am tired. 

Me and Max.

Last Post

After that horrifying last post, I found this poem I wrote and while it's not very good, it was written right from the gut. 

Here is this child
No longer mine
Because he cries for daddy
and smells of sausage and cigarettes
He was 1/7th of my heart
Now he is 3/4ths. 

I want the hand of death
to walk into the tunnel together
Because HE shred my soul
this time.  Eternally. 
I no longer belong in the light
or the dark. 

And BTW-HE is not God.   Oh no.  I have no faith.  HE is adam.  Who is akin to the devil.  That I don't believe in either. 

What I Always Wanted to Hear..Until Now

Adam and I talked.  He says, "I love you more than anything.  I am so sorry."  Don't get me wrong, though, it did make me feel warm and gooey.  It's just that....I am trying to move forward with my life and that shit...that shit he did was more than a little debilitating.  Now, though, he says he wants to fix my car.  He wants to make it right.  In truth, how great would life be if he were normal and stable and good?  Life would be near perfect.  But regretably, the chances of that happening are slightly scewed. 

So, I am going to write something quite terrible and quite unspeakable.  Once I write this, I promise not to visit it again.  But, during my walk yesterday to the store (since i have no car and no food in the house) my thoughts wandered and then stayed on a certain, shameful subject.  My thoughts stayed there for so long that I bcame mortified and almost...bored. 

It is no surprise to anyone that I do not like being alive.  That I hate life.  That I find no reason, no purpose and no real happiness.  I feel that while I have too much sympathy, even empathy for others, it is indeed a rare and impossible trait in others.  When I have been at my worst and deepest desperation, no one, no one is there and no one to make me care.  I have lived through some terrible things...and not to bring back the past, but losing Max for that time was like suffering the death of my child.  The pain was excrutiating.  I remember lying on the floor at nights, unable to sleep, holding my sotmach and crying with abandon because the pain was so intense and overpowering.  I remember waking up with such terrible stabs of anxiety that I could not get out of bed for hours, if at all.  I remember wanting to die so badly and knowing that I could not take away a mother from my children.  I suffered everyday and when I would talk to people about it...they were so distant and for them the reaction was this:  you have so many.  Let this child go.  How much that hurt.  How many tears I spilt.  How I learnt that life is cruel and unfeeling.  Everyone.  Even those who alledgedly love me the most. 

I still want to die.  I still do not want to be here.  I know that i am a failure.  That although I am only 38, my skin is looser, my face is sadder and with wrinkles and other skin defects, I have no accomplishments to be proud of, I have nothing more to offer.  I know that once men fell in love with me competely and wholly and now I could win a man only by being my nice, fake self full of life (that I hate) and fun and display my sweet and explosive happiness.  If I were a man, how worthless would I be?  I have a relatively low paying job and while I have an education....it is worthless (in so many peoples lives.  It has enriched my life significantly but made me no money to speak of).  I am a failure as a mother.  My kids are fantastic but Holden should be reading by now.  Mia should be better in school.  Eric should be fostered and led into a better direction.  It's not enough what I do.  It's never enough. 

I know this is why I stay with Adam.  He doesn't love me.  He never will.  But no one does.  Kurt took me home yesterday and acted like a dick because I did not want to have sex with him.  Asshole.  I hate that.  I hate people with sex problems and I won't deal with it.  Not again. 

Adam doesn't have that problem. 

I am sad.  I hate my body.  I hate myself.  I hate and hate.  And am ready to leave this place. 

Inhale

I inhale
long and deep
Tasting every subtle sinew
Sizzling fats, veins
Snapping bursts of flames;
Panting dragon
Enter
Into my soul
Finger the delicate secrets
The sensuous arcs
and pulsing agile shadows
Expertly darting through your fingers
Like silver guppies
I pause
Implode

Exhale.

The Drugs

Kurt took me home last night and we stopped and looked at my car.  It's a goner.  Won't start.  I think Adam (and I know nothing about cars) destroyed the fuel pump by letting it run completely of out gas.  It is really hard not having a car and living all the way out in never never land.  It is really difficult to have to move and not have a car to move anything with.  I need someone to bring my dead car back to life.  Without costing me any more money.  I lack two things:  money and time.  Especially when $400 was taken out of my account and used to buy drugs (that he left in my car.  Did I write that yet?  He is desperate to get them back.  It is really disgusting). 
I am not really speaking with Adam right now and have, maybe for the first time, absolutely no desire to speak with him.  I have come to the conclusion that asshole really is a bad person!  I thought that the drugs made him bad....but I kept saying to him yesterday, "make the right decision.  Give the drugs back."  I don't tell him I know that he took them from his grandmother.  His mother made me promise not to.  But at any rate, I am going to give them back to his grandmother. 
So, if I never talk to him again, I would be fine.  Except that I have Max.  He needs his dad.  Even if his dad is a total piece of garbage. 
There are a lot of men in my life.  And I like so many of them.  I am going to start dating the ones I like again and fuck Adam (not literally).  He is nothing to me anymore but a big problem.  If he would be the good person I thought he was, it would be fine.  But it appears he's not. 

Deeeeeflation

I am feeling a little depressed today.  Maybe even a lot.  Maybe even so much that I am struggling getting through this day.  Not to mention that I don't have a car and don't know when I am going to get it back.  Adam called me trying to act nice and sweet but I told him I am not giving him back his drugs and he suddenly became a colossal ass.  He really needs to go back to jail and remain there.  I am so much happier when I don't have him around to ruin my life.  He doesn't care about my car or me or maybe even his son. 

But I have bigger fish to fry.  For this new house, the landlord wants the old landlord information.  If I give him that info, I won't get in the house. 

I MISS my crappy car.  I will not have the money to fix it either.  Kurt (as usual) is going to help me.  He is not really what you would call "car savvy" but he's smart and could probably figure something out.  Adam was meeting me downstairs during my lunch break but I stood him up and decided I would rather lie back agains the cold cement wall than go and meet him.  He was going to get my keys and work on my car.  But fuck him.  Serioulsy, Fuck.  Him. 

The Plot Thickens

He stole $380 out of my account and that's bad.  But yesterday when he was supposed to pick me up from work he never showed up.  And then he calls about an hour later and says my car is dead because it ran out of gas.  I try to find him and it takes forever because he says he is one place but he's not so I go to another and he's not there either.  And I can hear him begging money off of people on teh phone (he forgets I am on the phone when he is too high for idle telephone chat) for a drink and Max screaming his head off in the background.  So, after much confused and nonsensical telephone conversations I find him standing on a corner.  I see Max with him and as I get closer I cannot believe what I see.  Max is filthy, head to toe, not wearing any shoes.  He looked like a kid off the street.  When I get closer, I go to pick him up and his diaper has leaked right through his clothes. 
Oh but it gets better.  I am yelling at Adam,  and we walk around the corner to where my dead car is.  The side mirror is utterly destroyed.  Shattered.  And I go to start the car and there is no heartbeat, no response.  He has killed my car.  I am livid at this point and Adam says, "Fuck you bitch."  Flips me off and that's the last of it. 
So, I call Kurt and he picks me up.  He mostly hates me because I have ignored him the last few weeks and acted as though he's not really been a huge part of my life for the last two years.  But he is hard for me to be around because he loves women too much (mostly their breasts) and is also ridiculously uptight. 
While I am waiting in the food court for Kurt to show up, Max begins a heartbeaking and terrifying tantrum.  He bit me and slapped me in the eyes.  People were staring and shaking their heads.  I was very calm but after a half hour or so, I began to break down and couldn't hold the tears back any longer.  As a long time, far weathered mother, I know that kids don't act that way becuase of their age.  It's because they have no other way to express their emotion. 
In walked Kurt to my rescue much to his chagrin and my own. 
Adam's mom calls me that night and while I am not sure why at first, it soon becomes clear.  He has stolen money from her purse and muscle relaxers from his grandmother.  I tell her what he has done to me (basically making the homeless life even closer to a breathing, living reality) and all the peices come together. 
This morning Kurt takes me to my beat up car and helps me put gas in the car and I find two checks in his other grandmother's name (who is young 80 years old).  Stealing from his grandmothers!  How low can it go.  But I am sure my checks have been rigorously shuffled through as well so I have to go and close my account.  That has not nearly enough money for anything anymore. 
So thus is life.  Lesson learned?  That I am about as trusting as a baby cow.  I am sad for Adam.  Inside that man is actually a pretty good guy who is fun, ambitious and smart (sort of).  But he loves drugs more than anyone or anything and that is what fully commands every peice of him. 

He Stole My Money.

I want to say...again....but how much of a putz will I look like?  He took $280 despite knowing that I am about to be homeless and my car isn't registered and no food and blah blah blah.  I am a colossal idiot.  I need to take control of my life and stop seeing that bastard.  I even called him about it and he handed the phone over to his grandma who went on and on about how her boyfriend that died (which is very sad, of course, and I automatroned my neverending sorrys to her) so that he could get away to the bathroom and avoid my calls. 
I am stuck here at work, talking to people who are hateful and disgruntled, and I am churning inside.  I am broked and need that money so badly that it physically aches. 
I want him to change so much and he won't...he won't..he won't.  Yes, I sound like "one of those."  I have become one of those women. 

My Day Off

I woke up yesterday and just couldn't gather enough guption to actually go into work.  So, I stayed home.  If I had gone to work as usual, I would not have found the eviction notice on my counter!  I had three days to respond to it and it was the last day.  Apparently Michael had signed for the papers on the 19th and forogt to tell me.  So, I panicked.  Adam was with me and was more than irritated at my alarm.  I took him home and used his internet and phone (my phone has been lost for nearly a week now).  I made a few calls and plans and was actually extremely scatterbrained.  I said to Adam, "If I have ever needed your help, it is right now."  Guess...oh just guess...what this gem did!  He said, "I have to clean up and have things I have to get done so...no."  Then he put the baby in the car and walked away.  I cired all the home and not because my kids and I might be on the street, but because I never felt more alone in my life.  I am tired of feeling alone!  I don't mind being an independant woman, really, but sometimes the fear and the isolation are too enormous and too powerful.  But I made an appointment to see a house and put down a downpayment.  Was very relieved and felt hope for this first time in three months. 

And then I came into work today and saw the email from the potential new landlord.  I will copy and paste it: 

Amy,

After looking at your income and responsibilities closer and agonizing over night, I have decided that your income is not adequate and therefore I will have to reject your application. I am truly sorry. I can mail you your check or drop it off late tonight after 9:30.  I will not be home until then. Or make other arrangements.     

Respectfully,

Rick

Where one door closes, another door opens and then gets slammed shut again. 

So, welcome to my life.  Homeless?  Maybe.  With six kids in tow. 

It really was a good day

My dad wrote me a long email about how I have "The Stockholm Syndrome."  So, I am a vicitim of abuse and that "his (Adams')" approval to me means everything but once I actually get it, I will find him a disgusting and vile man. 
But....it's just not true. 
First of all, he is not so much abusive anymore.  He is off of the drugs (mostly) and no longer makes people suffer from his rages.  No rages.  No fits of illogical anger.  It's all gone.  He has lost everyone, all of his family and friends.  Secondly, I just enjoy being around him.  Yesterday we went to Lagoon and it was fun.  Just very fun.  Period.  So fun that it isn't even interesting to write about!  Who wants to hear about someone else having loads of fun? 
I have thought about this Stokholm Syndrome before and what really bothers me is that I think I have never really loved anyone before and that perhaps this is the first time.  So, if it is merely a syndrome...well, that is sad and with already feeling that life is an unburied tomb, this just sucks.  I pray to god that it isn't an unhealthy syndrome. 
I will use this blog to keep count.  To keep count of how many days will pass before I find him cheating or lying (most likely both).  I will use this meaningless blog to document myself and determine if I am suffering from a delusion. 

I'm a Dummy

To wife, "Could you hold on while I talk to this dummy on the phone?" 

I hate people. 

Broken in Body and Mind

And no, that does not refer to me.  It refers to Adam sitting in the chair on the porch last night, asleep (more like extremely high) and hanging like a broken branch.  He was incoherent, he was cruel and good lord, he can put it away.  Before, when he was just a regular drug addict, he would never eat.  He was walking skin and bones.  Now, he is plump.  I like it.  But it is nevertheless shocking.  To make everything worse, I put it down pretty well last night too.  I can't stop eating when it's angel hair pasta and I ate it with a shovel so my stomach hurt all night (the proverbial American life!)  Well, I couldn't sleep and he was out on the porch for hours, hanging, like a corpse.  I don't know how his body handles it.  I laid my head on his chest and listened to his heart beat and it was too hard and too fast.  It scares me. 
I went to Brooke's because Adam stomped away mad (after being on the phone with his exgirlfriend for ten minutes and I was upset) and she said something that was all too true and clear.  We were sitting on her porch and she had apparently seen him walking frantically down the sidewalk with that stupid phone in his hand.  Well, she looked over at me and said, "Amy, I want to call the police on him."  I said, "He has warrants out for his arrest and he WILL go to jail."  After I said it I thought about how nice, really, that would be.  How when he is in jail, I am mostly happy and do great things with my life.  When he is around, I suffer.  I always suffer.  He cheats.  He lies.  He uses.  He is cruel. 
Yet, I still love him.  I guess that makes me co-dependant.  As broken as he is. 
Nonetheless, I have my vices.  My own coping methods. 
I know that I will forgive him again and take him back and that I will be miserable for the whole of my life because of that decision.  It's as though...dear god...I am a fucking trainwreck.  The tracks aren't quite aligned for me.  They never have been.   

Working and Writing

I am sitting here at work and to make the day go by faster, I am writing to "said person" dirty little notes.  How pathetic.  Because in truth, in physicality, I am not so alluring anymore.  I am getting too old.  And while, in most ways I am a better lover than I ever have been, I am also not as attractive anymore. 
I am doing these things because (gasp) I picked up Adam's phone and saw him texting the two main girls he is utterly unable to do without.  In response, I have done a few stupid and bad things.  Honest to God, when I saw the messages earlier I thought to myself, I don't care.  Whatever.  And then I get here and do stupid asinine things.  Like write Deric.  It will always be this way as long as I am with Adam.  I know that.  I also know that another man loves me very much and would make me very happy.  I am stupid.  Like my sister says, "of course you'll make the wrong decision."  Oh that and I'm a has-been.  With withering self esteem and social value. 
Depression is a time consuming ordeal that leads to nowhere.  But it can be productive.  On the one hand, I understand that now if I do not make anything further of my life, I am as good as dead and buried.  But again, what do I have to give?  I have great soap opera stories and disturbing drama. 
As this day drags on, I get more and more upset.  And stupid.  No better combination in the world. 

My Laughing Sons

Adam is playing with the two boys. They are loving it, getting tired and being happy which in turn makes me happy. But I am tired and have had a long day with body aches and stuffiness. I think it's Nyquil time. So tired.

It's been too long since I have posted.  And anyway, I have decided that maybe having an online journal where my soul is poured out for general public is a little egotistical.  While my life is nothing short of a lurid soap opera, who really wants to know?  According to the blog statistics, I don't get many hits these days...and maybe never really have so...
Well things have changed, as they always do.  I have had more than enough boyfriends and more than enough insipid dates.  I have had more than enough visits from CPS.  Oh yes, child protective services.  Someone continues to call them and allegate the stupidest, far fetched things.  Like I am snorting Oxy's with my daughter.  And I can't wait to get rid of my children...it goes on and on.  26 this last time.  I laughed (but actually cried) when the social worker was laying it out in front of me.  Who wants to cause me pain?  Who wants me to lose my children?  Who is the person who would put my children through another questionarre?  And these cases...keep getting dismissed with no supporting evidence and yet, they tell me they have to invastigate the allegations.  It's the law.  The law.  I am exhuasted with it. 
But, in truth, I have been seeing Adam every day now since he has been out of jail.  I enjoy my time with him. I am comfortable with him and while I don't feel that overpowering weakness that brought me to my knees before, I just like being around him.  I don't trust him and would be crushed if he were seeing other girls...which I am fairly certain he is.  But is so many ways I don't care.  I just can't. 
I was also evicted from my home last month.  Financial ruin.  No child support.  No money.  But I am glad we are moving.  It feels like a fresh start.  I don't mind starting over though I wish I were starting over and reversing the last three years. 
All this and I am absolutely brimming with discontent.