Wednesday, May 5, 2010


...I should be cheered by the episode of Sons of Butcher currently playing in my peripheral, but it's not working. I've actually been down since last night, even though my precious Billy is here and nothing pleases me more.

I started off just mad. When I went down to Small Town I Used To Live In last night to pick up my pride and joy, I was shocked, nay, bowled OVER by the reception I received from my ex's current. She actually invited me in to her house, made an effort to engage me in small talk, and even let me play with her kids. Though she and Ex-Bf have been together for over two years now, she has never really taken to me, no matter hard I tried to charm her. She would tolerate me to my face, but Ex-Bf would give me an earful of the truthiness later. Anyway, when she invited me to stay for super last night, I jumped at the chance to sweeten relations with my doggy stepmum. Life would be so much nicer for all involved if we could just get along.

Bf, however, did not share in my enthusiasm. Rather, he was disappointed when I called to inform him, and then completely unresponsive after that. He finally responded by telephone hours after I had started texting, when Billy, Moo and I were already fighting the snowstorm on the highway home. He didn't confirm this outright, that he had been deliberately avoiding me, but it was pretty clear. When I got home, I was so busy with Billy and Baby being reunited that we didn't get the chance to discuss it until he went to bed, after 11.

Before we had gone upstairs, basically since I had returned home, he had been criticizing me and slowly picking me apart - little comments here and there to insinuate that he suspected me of something - he pointed out how much food I was eating, that I had picked at a pimple on my neck, that he was worried that I would be in no shape to take care of Baby in the morning if I didn't go to bed early tonight. That one pricked me more than all the others. When I followed him into the bedroom to tuck him in to bed - I was staying up late to watch tv with Billy and Moo - and all this little comments came out, thinly veiled as his being "worried about" me, I was pissed. The comment that I may not be able to take care of Baby the next day? That he went to the trouble of telling me that we would all be getting up at such and such time the next morning, and that no, Baby couldn't just stay sleeping until she woke up on her own because I couldn't be trusted to wake up quickly enough to reach her before both eyes were fully opened?
Yeah, that was the straw the broke the camel's back.

"How dare you question my devotion to Baby?" I demanded. "She's my little girl too, you know. And by the way, Baby never has a rash on her vagina when she's with me." (An entirely true statement referring to the fact that whenever we get Baby back from her mother, she has a fucking diaper rash.)

"I know, I know," he said, and repeated his lame mantra, "I'm just worried about you."

This burned me so bad because I have been working my fucking ass off over the past couple weeks to get over my shit and work on my relationship with him. That instead of hurting and obsessing and isolating and brooding I spent all my time and energy trying to strengthen my relationship with him. And this was the fucking response I got?

In the end, I was just so hurt. I felt like a dog who had run up to it's master expecting love and praise, and ends up getting kicked instead. It fucking hurt, and I was fucking pissed.

Sigh. There is more to this, I have actually been feeling badly about my lost life and my complete lack of ambition or interest in accomplishing anything, which came about after perusing a girlfriend's pics on Facebook. She had started training and lost a bunch of weight, and all of a sudden she was modeling all over the place. It was a path that I had once been on, full of ambition and determination, before everything fell apart, and I got caught up in my my drugs and eating disorder. I have been low aver since, wishing I could recapture my former ambition but exhausted by the very thought. Another ironic thing is that I struggled to come up with just enough ambition to write one whole blog entry, and I can't even do that.

That was my segue, telling you that I'm pissing off, for now. We'll see how I feel in the morning....

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