Poor Don is a little bewildered to our situation and I am also finding it hard not to lose my goddamn mind right now.

These are the times I wish I had some stash of anti anxiety cures but I haven’t been one to ever go there so it’s not something I want to do but this is not great for me at all. What I should have realized back before I made this move was that these people owe me less than nothing–and clearly given the historical facts, I should have known better and been a little bit more protective of me and my dog and husband. I should have been able to predict this given it was mentioned to me often that the familial obligation and connection wasn’t one other people saw in context to me and them. I kind of brushed it off as nonsense and again, thinking it was baloney and they just didn’t get to know me well enough yet, but would, in time.

But after 6 years in and maybe just as many times seeing my sister during this time, maybe a handful more, well–the signs were all there but I was just ignoring them. Honestly the amounts of inattention I get from my birth and family family are the same–the same general lack of investment on both ends.

To them this must mean I am not an agreeable person. What I think it does mean is nobody has tried to understand me and where I am coming from or even how it must be to be me at all. A direct understanding I do not expect–however, an attempt made to let me be me without full scathing judgment? It might work.

Of course you know in my head I am just like hmmmm…are these the lessons they teach you in church? When in doubt, sue. When suing, be as mean and cruel about it as you can. It’s that fucking punishment thing again…why do people love seeing people suffer?

Well, right now there is a boomerang in the pit of my stomach that is making me feel less secure than I would like. I have no idea where I will be in a month but I do hope it’s far and away from here. Normally, when confronted with this situation I would just call east and leave. But now it’s Don and the dog and…I am tired of moving. 3 times in 6 years is a record for the longest in any spots for me. Well over a dozen in NYC over 12 years. Some day I will find home…a home, a place to call home. A place that feels like a home even.

It’s been years but inside my head I am screaming for some goodness our way. Please please, universe? I need something to hold onto because I hold nothing now.

Having nothing and then having only a few people who have your back in life? Not fun. I am sure we can tie these struggles of mine relating to the world to my dealing with death at the onset and then trying to dig through the garbage of life to find a reason.

I still haven’t found any fucking reason for me to be here beyond the cruelty of fate. Not a one. Apparently I bring stress and strife to my family. I do not have children. Nobody counts on me and if I did go…well, people would remember me randomly as some kind of novelty act, but I would be largely forgotten…

… as the forgettable are easy to forget. At least I admit it and don’t think I am some secret genius. It’s been pretty easy for me to admit my flaws and I do it all the time.

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xo to your Sunday evening dreams…I hope they do come true.