Chaos Digitized

Obviously, things have been crazy in my neck of the woods. Between court (oh so fun) and figuring out holidays and time sharing (fucking Florida... shared custody is Time Share), and holding the teen almost nightly for the first month,  things have been so hard. Hard,  but worth it. He's still trying to push my buttons. He's still trying to exert control - over my budget,  my parenting,  my time. But still worth it. I paid roughly 50% more in legal fees than I had anticipated. STILL worth it. I keep telling myself that things will get better. But... as long as I rely on him to be a good dad, things will continue to be hard. I seriously got asked why he would help me get the kids to appointments when it would be helping me and not the girls. Between those appointments, I burned a full day of paid time off. I'm tired. I got sick and I'm still fighting an infection - caused mostly by no sleep and way-too-high stress. But, getting sick made me stop and...

So I have a few things left to do before I'm able to go to court and have my divorce finalized.  I'm getting there. I'm working my ass off to make this thing happen. I'm falling apart every single night, but not because I miss him. It's because there's so much more to do and I'm being sabotaged every step of the way.   "That which does not kill you..." If you're one of those that says that, let me just say "FUCK YOU!" Everything I'm going through is tenderizing me. It's turning me black and blue. it's making me feel like I have no choice but to curl into a little ball and let my nonexistent spine take the brunt of the punishment.  I haven't changed my locks. The ex walks in like he owns the place.  Which.... he still technically does, I guess. But my bedroom should be MINE. And nobody should walk in without my invitation.  And since I have my kids all the time,  there's not really any chance of that ...

So I'm tired.  This isn't exactly a new development, of course. I'm being mom.  He's being dad - to just his son. My girls are suffering. But mom's trying to keep a brave face because... they need me. He's dragging feet on leaving.  He's judging my parenting.  I'm drained y'all- this is too goddamn much. I want to feel better. I want to be told I'm pretty and get smacked on the ass for no reason (by someone I have an affection for - please no randos... unless you're cute... maybe a daddy type...? I digress...) I want to be seen.  like truly seen.... Not just my eyes. Not my dimples. Not my chest... my soul. That's where it hurts. mainly though... I just need to recharge.  My kids are mostly enough, but I need to recharge for their benefit as well as my own. Now... it's time for me to play Pollyanna. The pain. The hurt. The torn to shreds feeling in my soul? It confirms I have a soul. Hello there, little broken soul, yo...

It's fucking 3:30 am. I can't sleep. I've tried NSFW methods.  PG methods. It's not working. Soothing sounds on my headphones generally conks me out. Tonight, though?  Nuh uh.  It cannot drown out the noise of how the dude is giving up his daughters.   How much damage he's doing to them because his son is what he's always wanted.  His son is what he's always prayed for. So his daughters' hearts get broken with every broken promise.  With every time his son's mother,  whom he swears he's not "with" talks, him into time with her or attention to her when he's supposed to be doing something with his kids or when they're trying to just fucking talk to him. I see myself in them.  My own wounds and years of damages. I desperately want to save them the heartbreak, but if I point out what he's doing, I break the agreement that he still won't sign.  And I potentially project my own experience on my daughters who still hav...

I have this tendency to enter into self destructive  (yet sometimes incredibly fun) activities when I'm depressed.  I'll spare you the details because... well... nobody needs to know me like that. I lose my boundaries... my inhibitions... my sense of self when depression kicks in. I'm kind of a chameleon.  Completely empty and blank until I step out into a world of color. I hesitate to share this information with my therapist because, well... I don't want to go back to the hospital.  Like when I think of hurting myself... it's just a thought.  I remove myself from the temptation and move on. Hurting myself could be many different things.... and some can be enjoyable.  I need joy, right? He knows I'm empty. I've been over this with him.  And I'm dealing with it in some healthy ways, right? He doesn't necessarily need to know about the bad too... I've been more depressed than normal lately. Home isn't exactly great. And well... baby mam...

This whole "All by Myself" thing would be going about a billion times better if I were actually all by myself - and didn't have two (adult??) anchors weighing me down. His mower died.  Last year.  The yard hasn't been cut since LAST FUCKING YEAR. Ok. So we live in Florida (I think that was at least implied earlier in the blog). This place claims to be the sunshine state - but in all actuality, it's the rain-every-fucking-afternoon state and... to be completely honest, the hurricane-and-blown-down-fucking-trees state. Fun, right? Fun fact about biology in a place where it rains buckets on the daily. Shit GROWS. The rain forest is the rain FOREST. Not the rain cute-little-perfectly-manicured garden. So... I've been trying to fix the mower.  No luck. Been trying to get it fixed. Well, apparently somebody hit something and damaged it beyond repair (unless I'm Ms. Moneybags... spoiler: I'm not). So I researched.  And researched.  And I bought a mo...

I have a friend from my hometown... known him all my life, basically.  Kindergarten up... and we were friendly in school, never really super close- ran in different circles- but would always stop to say hi and "howsyourmomandthem" when we'd see each other when i was working there well after graduation.  Facebook close- I'd watch his kids growing up in pictures and he did the same with me. Well.  He came to town... god, he was like xanax and cold sweet tea and grandma's front porch all rolled up into the fattest blunt imaginable.  I left him feeling better than I've felt in months.  No guilt- nothing was done to feel guilty about. I even fucking smiled.  Now, dear reader,  I have to be completely honest with you... even when I try to lie to myself.. I got excited when he asked me to come out.  Not like,  this is an old friend that wants to catch up kind of way. You should know this... He's smart and funny and has these incredibly sexy ...

There's a lot going on in Chaos-topia of late. Unfortunately that's kept me from doing the things I should be doing for my own sanity. It's kept me from writing... from blogging... from sneaking out in the middle of the night to Netflix and chill with a tall dark and handsome... oh wait... that's not happening regardless. I'm not happy. This isn't new. I'm not ok.  Also the total yawn-fest, rehashed story you've heard from me 5,247 times. Everybody and their great granny Junie knows exactly how not-ok I am.  But, this is new. I'm starting to think about traveling. NOLA, Atlanta, Miami (pronounced Miam-ah, if you're a total douche-nozzle from there...), even thinking about Cancun and NYC. Just GOING. maybe even next weekend. or maybe nothing will change.  We'll see... CD

How can someone be triggered by such an innocuous question? Well, dear reader( s ), when it reminds you of just how different your life probably is on earth-19 {multiverse theory: a very basic summary- different choices make different universes where those choices play out}. On earth-19, you didn't take his shit when you found out he was having a kid with someone else. And you didn't have a "divorce or find a different job" ultimatum because you filed for divorce before the ultimatum ever got dropped. You started healing. You didn't have the emotional blackmail looming over your head because you didn't fall in love with a kid that you would never be "mom" to. On earth-19, you kicked ass. You finished your licensing requirements as a single mom. You didn't lose your entire family (over this, anyway - your family is still a bunch of fruitcakes on earth-19).  I told him that it was time to end this. He told her. I'm never seeing that b...

Couple nights ago was stressful... suicide/self-harm watch with my daughter while her little brother ran around playing. It was so bad, she didn't even want him hugging her. She couldn't even find joy there. While all this was going on, their dad was chatting away with our "tenant" (hell, she paid a whole $20 for utilities - I should be cooking gourmet meals every night, not just on the weekends). Finally around 11 (while dad and the "tenant" were snoring), the kid started to come down from the height of her episode and she started relaxing and I felt almost ok to go to bed while she played on her phone. I gave her almost two hours more... engaging her without pushing... walking the tightrope. She told me she doesn't want to be here. doesn't want to be in the south at all... and... doesn't want to be around dad because he's mean and doesn't try to understand her. Same, baby... same. I have been in a bad place lately but I put i...

I apologize for the lack of new posts lately (my one loyal reader and friend). Things have been pure hell at home. I honestly don't know where to go from here except to an attorney's office. I feel trapped and lonely and hopeless in that place. My sister in law offered to lend me the money for an attorney. So I can divorce her brother... my daughters have mentioned a desire to have mom and dad stop fighting... and the younger has told me to ask for a divorce. Yep... not even a teen and wants me out so I can be happy and not get yelled at all the time. I am at the end of my rope. this isn't a call out to be rescued or babied or reassured this time. This is a cold hard fact and I'm done. I will have an opportunity next weekend to move his shit out of my bedroom. As tempting as that is I don't want my girls to witness the shitstorm that will unleash. think good thoughts? c.d.

I was shopping for something for my stepson and I dropped into a discount store to kind of unwind a little. I decided on not one, but two books (livin on the edge, baby) aand a couple of small toys for my desk. yes. toys. for. my. desk. I play with the toys with my left hand while I ten key and edit work papers with my right. It's a focus thing. Makes me work faster, better, and less insane during my loooooong weeks. Anyway, back to the books. They're writing prompts. Very fucking cool, right? One of the prompts was, "Who would you most like to punch in the face?" I'm afraid that that's too easy and obvious to answer. So, I grabbed the other book while I was waiting for a service (don't want my blog uber searchable so forgive me for not going deeper on that. Suffice it to say that I had to take a part of my day off to do something that a good husband husband who loved me and understood what my effing career requires would never have...

I miss getting enough sleep. There are a lot of things that interfere with my sleep.... First off, have you seen the asshole that has half of my bed? Second, our new roommates live in the coldest room in the house. And since my stepson is one of them, I want him comfortable soooooo we heat the house to hellish levels. Hard to sleep when you have to be clothed and are ridiculously hot. Which is a problem for me regardless of the temperature because I am, of course, ridiculously hot... rawr (also delusions seem to be an issue). I'm not taking care of myself in other aspects of my life. I'm eating junk.... when I eat at all. No sleep. No good fuel. No happy. When will it all end? When I make it end. When I take the step to divorce his ass. I'm actually to the point where I don't care about staying in my own house. The house I love. I would rather be able to sleep and take care of myself in an impersonal apartment than suffer in that house.... I'm miserable. ...

I like the idea of a secret identity. An identity where a person's deeds, be they good or evil, are the basis for judgement. Well that and the conventional good looks. Because who would love supergirl if she were a big fat blob of a girl, albeit one who could fly and do great things? My secret identity,  I suppose, is Chaos Digitized.  And I'm a witty, smart, snarky writer with depressive tendencies. I'm one of my own favorite writers, in fact. In real life, I'm quiet. I'm a doormat, in fact.  But here.. here i'm something special. But..... I'm not sure that's enough. I need a pen name. But I'm thinking that my pen name should have an interesting backstory. Just one more layer of anonymity  (professional life plus my subject matter = explosion) and an inside joke with my loyal fans... Brooke Jameson ... ** Carmen Drake.. Carter J. D'Andrea Blanche Birch Hmmm.... I'll come up with character profiles for these names and see...

I've had the occasion of late to be asked what I want.  What do I want to eat to celebrate a special day.  What do I want as a gift.  What do I want to do to celebrate the anniversary a day that is supposed to be about me. I don't know what I want.  I spend so much of my emotional (and financial) capital catering to the desires and demands of my kids and their hard- to- please dad that I can't even come close to knowing what I want... what I need.... what will make me feel important... what will make me feel loved. Coz I don't, currently. I don't feel important.  I don't feel loved (well... my kids love me but you know what I'm looking for) I don't know if I even love myself. My soundtrack... my refrain... my mantra?  "I can't do this.  I hate my job (I don't), I hate my life, I hate my situation, I hate my family (I only really hate the one member), I can't do this anymore. " Positive self-talk can bring about g...

I have already failed at my twice a week goal. Life happens, right? I've also skipped the last two writers groups... Life. I'm doing nothing for me. Except the guitar. But no writing.  No fun. No life.... because life happens. I need three things. 1. Sex. Seriously it's been too long. 2. Music. I've been avoiding music for a long time because there's no joy in it. 3. Art - time for my writing and drawing and just time to be creative. But.... Life happens and those things aren't really gonna happen soon... So... I'm just gonna hang onto the little bit of life I've got. Anyone wanna kidnap me? Please? C.D.