It’s pretty amazing how little motivation I have for my job at this point. Part of me just wants to hand the entire thing over to DG and move on to something else. I am not about this life anymore. I’m hoping that will change once this merger is done, but god damn it is a major pain in my ass.
Since it’s Tuesday, I’m going to confess something: what I really want at this point is to be a house wife. I want to grocery shop and clean. I want to chauffer the kids all over town. I want to micromanage their school work. I want to take care of the pets. I want to pay all the bills on time (lol). I want to go out to lunches with friends, exercise more, and meal prep. I want to take an hour in the morning to read. I want to walk the dog every morning and evening. I have never wanted this before. I have always been very career oriented. But my priorities have changed since being diagnosed metastatic, and I kind of wish I could just retire right now. The best years of my life are slipping away from me. Everything could go downhill in the blink of an eye. I’m scared.
I just learned of another local attorney suicide. These happen relatively frequently. This profession just chips away at your mental wellbeing, and getting out is nearly impossible. Once you take on clients, you are kind of fucked. It’s a never ending cycle of misery most days, tbh. I do not recommend that anyone ever go into private practice.
A few years back, my landlord (who had his own legal practice) killed himself because he didn’t see a way out. I know another guy that shot himself under a bridge because it became too much. Others just become alcoholics (hello) or drug addicts to deal with the stress. It’s not pretty.
Unless you are one of my besties, I almost always only make plans with others when I’m drunk, and then I’m always annoyed about it when I’m sober again. But I’ve found the only way to get myself to be social is to commit to things when my inhibitions are down. I’m content to stay home like 98% of the time. Other people are exhausting.
No make-up. No filter.
Just me; learning to love the skin I’m in.
I haven’t done one of these in a while.
Here we go!
- My ex’s gf works in a chiropractor’s office, and that office is still open. She sees approximately 30-40 patients a day. As a result, G hasn’t seen her in several weeks, in an attempt to prevent exposure to Covid-19. Well he called me last night and said they can no longer sustain it – he’s afraid they’ll break up if he doesn’t start seeing her again, which makes sense. So, as of this upcoming Friday, they plan to go back to normal. He offered to keep Jackson indefinitely to keep me from being exposed, but I just can’t do that. This shit could be going on for months. I can’t go months without seeing my kid. He says her office is taking lots of precautions, but it’s still scary considering my low wbc – and it’s only going to get lower as the months pass.
- Speaking of exes, D’s was here earlier picking up Frey, and she once again did that thing where she slowly eyes me up and down like she’s scrutinizing every detail of my looks. It makes me uncomfortable. I *think* we’re in a good place, so I doubt it is meant to be bitchy. In fact, I’m not sure she even realizes she’s doing it. I suppose it makes sense – considering our history. No need to go into all of that. lol
- Speaking of looks, I’m feeling mighty unattractive nowadays. I feel like I look really old. Also – my hair sucks. I’ve decided I want to cut it to just above my shoulders, but who the fuck knows when that will happen. It’s shedding so significantly that I’m actually worried I’ll be wearing a wig in a few months. (And if so – fine wtf-ever. I mean – the wig life isn’t all bad. Your hair always looks good, and you have so much variety). The meds are also causing some acne issues, and you know I’m obsessed with my skin, so I’m living in constant fear that my face is going to break out and look awful. I feel like a fucking troll. I just want to go to bed and hide under the covers. I’m trying to hold out hope that once my body adjusts to the meds, the side effects will lessen. The hot flashes have been insane. My skin is itchy. I’m exhausted. I almost never sleep. It’s a shit show. Cancer just keeps taking and taking and taking. I don’t know how much more I can stand before I have a mental break. Which leads us to our next point:
- I have an appointment in two weeks (via Zoom) with the psychiatrist at the cancer center. She is going to start managing my psych meds, and hopefully she can find a combo that will work for me. My anxiety is off the fucking charts, and the insomnia is unrelenting. I need help. I feel like I’m drowning. I put up a good front, but the reality is – I’m not okay.
- Friday night we are participating in what I’m calling Swinger Wine Club. A bunch of lifestyle people have a monthly wine club that seems to be a tasting that eventually turns into an orgy. Due to boredom, they have started a virtual version, and we were invited by J&M. I just paid the $72 for the wine selection, which will be dropped off at the front porch sometime this week. Then on Friday night at 9 pm – we will get on Zoom and drink it together. And then…who knows? Well – I know that the others will get naked and crazy. D and I haven’t decided if we are into that idea or not. We certainly aren’t prudes, (and have fucked on camera in front of friends before – not too long ago actually) but we don’t know most of these people, so we will probably just observe…this time.
That’s all she wrote.
You make your own happiness. I’m a true believer in that. So now I have to figure out what will make me happier with my career, and then actually do it.
I’m tired of being this miserable, tired, bitchy version of myself.
I have to accept that by putting up certain boundaries/making changes, I will piss off/hurt certain people in my life. It is not my job to carry anyone other than myself.
Say it. Repeat it. Mean it.