Makin’ Moves


Finally sitting down. My mom and I have been steadily making progress for about 5 hours.
Ok that’s not true. My mom did awesome. I pouted for a while, had a temper tantrum, played with my phone, and wandered semi-aimlessly around my living room and picked apart my coat closet, replacing and tossing random stuff I haven’t been able to categorize for the past two moves.

Here I go. Moving again. Back home. With my mom. And my two little monkees. This should be interesting.

The good news is, I have a part time job, my mom is an absolute saint, and I finally feel like I’m getting out of this bad relationship-depression-anxiety-stagnation rut I’ve been in.
The bad news is, I’m still totally freaking out. My acceptance level is very low, I’m bitter and resentful and acting like a brat. I need to get over myself. It’s not about me anymore. I have two little angels who need me to be strong and loving and help make this a smooth transition. It’s hard enough on them that they don’t see their dad every day. It’s hardest on my older daughter. It breaks my heart. It makes me second guess myself.

In my heart I know this is right. I know we will be better for it. Everything will work out. I just need to keep reminding myself and being reminded by all of you wonderful people.

I’m taking my tired old butt to bed. Moving sucks.

*THUD!* (head hitting pillow)


Sweet Dreams?

I think I get the bizarre dream of the night award.
At one point I had been banished to Hell. It was very gory and I’m pretty sure Otto from Sons of Anarchy was repeatedly biting off his tongue.
Then, somehow, I escaped only to discover that demons or something had escaped and turned Tom Cruise into a zombie. (Which really, he probably is anyway, except he kept climbing in bed with me and trying to convince me he wasn’t a zombie.) Also, important to note, he was terrible in the sack.
So there I am, trying to fight off Sex Crazed Zombie Tom Cruise, and now I’m in a pool in a meadow full of flowers. Someone had de-zombified the zombies and Tom Cruise was back. I had a really pretty flowered dress on and great hair. We hopped on his Harley and drove off.
The end.

I wonder what Freud would have to say about this.

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