This weekend has been all about learning what happens when people screw with my family. I don’t like it. Apparently, not at all. Psycho-chick from Mars might be a good description.
Three times it happened in three different situations in three days.
Brought on by people I was supposed to be able to trust.
The third time was just too much. I went bat-shit. I can’t remember another time in my life when I had to be pulled off another human being and physically held back.
Not my finest moment.
I really want to go home again to my nice quiet life where I don’t have to justify anything to anyone.
Unfortunately, there’s still one more hurdle to get over tomorrow. Considering my track record this weekend, maybe I’ll sit this one out and let the Hubster take over.
Shoot me! Shoot me now!
It never ends, I swear. After a day of drama with my ex’s family, I get an evening of it with my own. Basically, families suck.
This post needs more DRAMA!
Which brings me to my thought for the day. This part of the blog hasn’t been funny, nor weird as I originally promised. However, it does provide an incredibly necessary outlet for me to vent. You fellow bloggers will understand how writing is a catharsis. I get it now too. So, here’s what I’d like to do. In keeping with my original mission to enlighten you with the very nuttiest innermost workings of my crooked brain (I’ve been reading plenty of other blogs, and frankly, I’m just not that weird in comparison) I’m going to spin off a portion of my blog into another page. The working titles for this collection of thoughts are “Diary of a Recovering Control Freak” or “Serious Anger Issues Redeux”. Or both. I haven’t decided yet.
The bottom line is that there will be drama, suspense and a lot of foul language. Now that’s a concept I can get behind!
And for those of you who just can’t go a day without one, here’s another picture of a squirrel:
It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Supersquirrel!
Today will not be a warm and fuzzy day. The Hubster and I need to escort our kids to their grandmother’s house to look through their dad’s things. Unfortunately, I won’t be allowed to accompany them into the house. (No worries though. It’s covered.)
I just want to get this over with and “move on with our lives” as someone so eloquently put it.
Oh and hey, Dickhead #2? This one’s for you:
Bridges burned, my friend. Bridges burned.
I’m having a sad day today. My kids have already been experiencing pain as a result of losing their dad earlier this year. Now they’re dealing with the selfish, self-centered bullshit that adults typically inflict on one another in the aftermath of a divorce. The problem is that their dad is gone and they’re looking for some comfort and closure to a very messy and painful situation. His family, in their infinite “wisdom” can’t see past their own needs to let that happen. They continue to hold open old wounds and are holding my kids’ emotions as hostages.
Well, I’m sorry. Not on my watch.
As soon as this is done, so are we. Then they can choose to move on or stay entrenched in their bitterness and hatred. It’s karma they need to be concerned with at this point. Not me.