I promised y’all one blog but you’re getting a totally different one. Why? Because this is my domain and today, I want to let ToxicEuphoria out to play. I have a severe case of INSOMNIA fueled by an awful chest cold/cough combined with one hell of a throat ache, a ton of grief, depression, looming client deadlines, and one hell of a homeschool schedule for three. Yes, I made my bed, did a sloppy job, now I have to sit my butt wide awake in it. I’d welcome bedbugs right now for some company and conversation. I’d pay for some understanding and for someone to wipe these tears from my eyes. I’d really like for sleep to hit me right about now, so that I could pretend this entire night was an awful dream.
Sitting in this dark spot fully lit by every light and gadget in the room wondering where the fuck I am. Oh, yes, I know in the center of my bed angry once again. That time of year when madness takes over me and I can’t fully enjoy my two youngest sons’ birthdays that sandwich the anniversary of my daughter’s birth/death which happens to also be my younger brother’s birthday. This year more mad than ever because I hate him right now so bad that I wish he had been the one born dead on September 8th and not my Isabel Grace. I told you this is my ToxicEuphoria and you really don’t have to read…I write this for me.
I need to let go. I need to find something else to hold on to get me through these next few weeks but I’m angry. Somehow, I can’t be the only person my mother cries to everyday and somehow I can’t be the only one she counts on financially. Then there’s that thing that my sister is coming from Cuba soon and I can’t bring myself to be genuine about loving someone I’ve never really met. I’m angry and hoping she doesn’t cause my mother more heartache because it won’t end up any place other than my God Damn lap again. Let’s not even talk about the friends that have given themselves a lot of sense of entitlement when it comes to my time. I want God to rid me of empathy. I want to really be this cunt that some think I am. Yet, here I am depressed about other people’s shit.
Depressed when otherwise my life is going along just swimmingly. Client wait list is two digit deep. Feels like the days before the recession in 2007 when I was turning away clients to work on what I wanted. Right now, I’m turning away some clients in lieu of others who I think have better brands and I’m building me. Took me four years but I finally found a business partner I can trust doesn’t hurt one bit she seems to be exactly like me. Oh, fuck! I hope she doesn’t have my crazy mood swings?!? If she does I hope she’s up when I am down and vice versa but I doubt it cause the other day we were on chat and we couldn’t see eye to eye to save our lives. It was like talking to myself when I am feeling pissy. So, whether that’s good or bad…I’ll vote for good…cause no matter how fucked up I am, I pretty much like me more than I like…yup, pretty much everyone else other than my Kings.
That brings me to how in the fuck did I really sign up to homeschool all three? I think I enjoy making my life more difficult than it ever should be. Today, was the second day and we managed pretty well…except the three baskets of clean laundry that sit at the foot of my bed ready to be put away; at least it isn’t four anymore. Somehow I’m not alone in raising them but I’ve never been more alone. So, as it hits just past 5 A.M. I pray that I don’t give my sons the issues my parents gave me. Time to shut this brain down to get three hours of sleep.
When I wake, God, please help me put up the facade that everything is okay with me, force my brother to get his head out his ass so that I don’t have to forcibly remove it when I get to South Florida next month, can you send my Mom a new bestfriend so I can have some time off, make sure you don’t send me anymore crazy clients like you did with that one last month that I had to fire (yes, Crazy, I see your IP address all over my site…stop coming to this site), help me get done with my projects I’m creating and please help me get past this fourteenth anniversary of Isabel Grace’s death.
If you read this entire thing you might be a little insane too or really nosey. I’m truly smiling right now because I know that all that up there is what happens in my head right before I have a major breakthrough. Ya can’t rebuild until you tear down. I’m down for the count…
