Today it’s okay.


Today it’s okay to be in a funk.  Today I give myself a break.  Today I’ve decided to sit and drink coffee and forget cleaning.  I was supposed to go to the store today but fell back asleep, obviously I needed it then.  I was sitting with my coffee and kind of freaking out about my to-do list today, but today… I’m putting it off until tomorrow.  Today I’m drinking my coffee and watching my kitchen turn into a barbie doll house war zone….

Yes she’s naked. Ha.

I’m still a little edgy about what I should be doing, but I need to learn how to take a break.  I need to learn how to step back.  I need to learn how to relax.  The world is not going to end because my coffee cups are in the sink.  Or because I still have one more english chapter to read by Sunday.  Or because my kid is rubbing her ass on the front window *facepalm*.  Haha.

It’s been a hard week.  So I’m taking a break and slowing down.  Until I have to go to work.  Then it’s go time!

Honesty time.

You know sometimes I get insanely jealous of people who don’t have to work.  Or hell.  People who are healthy.  Like I just want to scream “It’s not fair” up at the invisible “god”.  Maybe shaking my fist a bit.  I do though.  I realize I put  myself in this position on my inane chase of happiness, but still.  I feel like not many people understand how I feel, and I know they try.  I mean hell, I always think “Well, finances would be easier to (mentally) handle if I didn’t have Crohns.” or “Man, it would be okay to be sick if I didn’t have to work so much.”  It’s like “god” dished me out too much this time, even though I know I’m perfectly capable of handling it.  Well, not the $4000/prescription thing, but that’s another story for another pot of coffee.

THEN, I get vengeful.  Spiteful.  Venomous (speaking of which, Beast and the Harlot is still one of my favorite songs).  I work so hard at making a life for myself, fixing my shit, getting it in order (partially because of that morbid, I’ll be dead before 50 thing) that when people bitch I want to slap them.  Seeeeriously?  Get off your ass and fix it!  Do something about it.  I can’t fully extend my hands today and I’m blogging.  My stomach is trying to claw it’s way out alien style and I’m still going to go to work.  Oh and my pills?  I lost 3 doses after I couldn’t keep them down.  You know what?  I’m still going to work.  I’m still coming home and doing homework.  I still work tomorrow.  I’m still running errands tomorrow.  It’s called life people, if I don’t get a break, if I can muster up enough courage to fix shit and get it done, then so should you.  I understand having a down day, or a couple of days.  You know being lazy, but come the fuck on, if all you do is complain, at least make an attempt to fix it.  If you don’t then I have lost all respect for you.  If it’s long term, deal with it and move on.

Jesus.  I think I’m going to stroke out.  I smell the color Green.  (I’m joking people).

So my Dad and I had a bonding moment, at least for my emotionally dysfunctional ass.  I was freaking out over the weekend.  I just spazzed and called him.


Hey Dad, it’s Me, I hate everything.

Why what’s wrong?

[Insert everything from animals to my water heater here] and everything just sucks Dad.

I know you have it hard, you’re a single mom now, you’ll get through it.

(I’m pretty sure he said something about offing my cats, but that’s every conversation)
I know Dad.  I just wanted to vent.  It’s rough.

You’ll be okay.


So he ended up calling to check up on me the following day.  That’s not par for us because I usually don’t vent to him.  Hell.  Actually, short of someone I just met, that’s not par for any one I know.  My dad called just to make sure I was doing better.

My dad cut me a break.  I love him.


Errrr.  I think I’m done for the day.


Reply, do it, you know you want to!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s