the date and confusion

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 happening.

So... for the ones in the back... my bedroom is for me. Period. Nobody else.  It's not your playground.  Not your stopping off point.  Not your entertainment.  It's my oasis.  And his presence,  however brief,  has made it less oasis and more.... pit of despair.  Not because I miss him, but because my sanctuary has been violated.

So... I'm waiting on "the date" - though "a date" wouldn't hurt my feelings - maybe Saturday night?  Movie night?  Cuddles in the back row of the theater?

But there's still a helluva lot of confusion because there's so fucking much I have to do to make this my own place and to cleanse it of the negativity... and since my kids like to eat..  like every day... I'm struggling with getting it all done. 

There should be a service. A free or low cost service. For divorcing custodial parents. Someone to help with the craziness in separating households.. a checklist.  something. 

oh wait...

a lot of people have family.
they have a support network in place.

Fuck you,  ex.. you drove all of them away. 

Sorry to ramble. 
it just all sucks y'all 

hug somebody who needs it
C.D.

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