- I’m extremely impatient.
- I tend to be overly dramatic.
- I worry too much.
- I push people away.
- I’m too hard on myself.
- when people are late
- when people drive for a long time with their blinker on (for no reason)
- when a parent refers to their child as “mini me”
- poor grammar
- when people don’t respect personal space
- mother fucking snap chat
- poor hygiene
- long winded people who just want to hear themselves talk. just get to the fucking point already.
I sound like a total asshole.
My current life soundtrack is as follows:
- Spirits by The Strumbellas
- Run or Hide by Run River North
- Doing It To Death by The Kills
- Bored To Death by Blink-182
- Circadian Rhythm by Silversun Pickups
- Conqueror by Aurora
- Don’t Hurt Yourself by Beyonce
- Graveyard Whistling by Nothing But Thieves
- The Last Thing on My Mind by The Joy Formidable
- Ban All The Music by Nothing But Thieves
- something bad happening to someone I love, especially Dave and the kids.
- related to the above: that i’m somehow unknowingly fucking my kid up. Parenting is hard.
- a cancer recurrence
- business failure
- time. it moves too quickly.
Once upon a time, this dude told me that having a blog all about myself was ridiculous and implied that I was incredibly vain. While it may very well be the case that I am vain, I don’t think it’s vain or ridiculous to have a blog. It’s not like I ask people to read this. In fact, I’ve only ever purposefully shared this blog with a few close friends. Everyone else found it in other ways; the most notable of which being Titfest 2015.
And maybe I am vain. I’m the center of my own little universe. Me, Dave, and the kids are in the center. There are a few rings of friends floating around us. Outside of that, I don’t see much. I’ve withdrawn into my only little bubble filled with the people I love, my firm, my (soon to be built) new house, my friends, my cat, and the silly little things that I love. And I choose to document them here because it makes me happy to look back and reflect on the lovely little world I’ve made for myself. I don’t see anything wrong with that.
I put my blog back on the web. I missed being able to view it that way.
- I look… like shit/old/fat/ugly, etc.
- If I want it done right, then I need to do it myself.
- I love you so much, it hurts me.
- I need more Diet Pepsi.
- What should I read next?
- *daydreams of the future*
- Are you fucking serious right now?
Aww thank you so much for the lovely message. I just had to post this one, so I can look back on it on bad days. xoxo
A large glass of wine and a chat with the bf have given me perspective on the “my ex knows about my blog” situation.
I have spent a long time now feeling super guilty about the fact that I ended our marriage. It was absolutely not something he wanted, and he didn’t let me go easily. He fought for a good long time, and even pulled a few really dirty, manipulative tricks. I have forgiven him for that, and I give him a lot of leeway because of the guilt I continue to feel over breaking his heart.
When I see him nowadays, he often tells me about what is going on in his life: who he is dating, where he goes with his friends, etc. In the beginning, it was sort of hard to hear about all the fun he was having going out and living it up, because that was always something I wanted us to do together and he always refused. But I decided to grin and fucking bear it because that’s what you do. He still does it now, but it’s not a big deal to me at this point. The point is: I certainly never, ever talk to him about anything going on in my life unless it concerns Jackson. Because I’m not trying to rub his face in it.
But is that really fair? I’m not saying I want to rub his face in it, but is it fair for him to tell me all about his life while I keep mine quiet like some big dirty secret? It’s not a dirty secret. I am ridiculously happy now. I did what I had to do to be happy, and it wasn’t easy. I worked hard for this. I shouldn’t feel ashamed about it. That is bullshit.
And on some level it probably isn’t even him making me feel that way… it’s me. I’m doing this to myself. Because my guilt continues to eat at me, even now, despite all of my exclamations to the contrary. So really it’s my fault and it’s my problem.
This blog is mine. It means a lot to me. Probably more than it should. I’m not going to censor myself because he (or anyone else who doesn’t like it) may choose to read it. Fuck that. I have to move past this shit.
I totally get that reading this would make him unhappy, but that is a personal choice, and therefore it is his own personal problem. Not mine.
tl;dr: read at your own risk.