So much has happened since I last wrote an entry, but I've been too tired, too drained, to blog it. Now I doubt I remember.

Last week, I had to go to the municipal courthouse for a parenting class. Every parent going through a divorce in WV has to take it, apparently. And at $25 a person, that adds up to a tidy sum. I was told by my lawyer that if one does not attend the class, they won't get custody. I think it's bollocks, myself.

The class was scheduled to last two hours, but we got out after 90 minutes. The videos we had to watch date back to the '80s. It was all about how children deal with divorce, and featured kids talking about how guilty they felt when their parents divorced, because they thought it was their fault. Then there was the Salt Lake City family court judge who looked very stern and forbidding, saying that "even if you think you are the better parent, you should let the other parent have custody, in order to spare the children the pain of a custody battle".

I was left feeling very guilty about the harm I'm doing to Xander. I felt awful. When Xander and I got home, I sat him down to have a talk. I explained what divorce is, explained that Daddy and I can't live together anymore, and that it isn't his fault. Then I asked him how he felt about it. "Fine." Then he thought for a moment, looked at me, and said "After you divorce Daddy, you can marry someone else and give me a baby brother or sister!" Did I mention that Xander hates being an only child?

I did mention that to MW. He seemed to get a kick out of it.

I'm reading 'The Handmaid's Tale'. Frightening stuff.

MW came home Thursday. He had Thursday and Friday off, and ended up with Saturday off, as well. It went by too damned fast. I miss him.

I feel like crap

Is it a bad thing when all you can do is sit and think about how much you wish you were dead? Not in any "where's the knife, it's time to check out' sort of way, but in a quietly desparate sort of way. A 'I want to, but I'm too damn tired, how about tomorrow instead?' kind of thing. And tomorrow just happens to be my day for seeing the T-doc.

MW is home through tomorrow. I should be thrilled! So why do I feel so bad? Aside from the missed doses, of course. Bi-polars 'skip doses because they miss being manic.' I call bullshit on that one. If I were manic, I'd feel a lot better than I do now.

The hunt for the elusive bathing suit goes on. We went to Waynesburg, PA in search of one, but neither of the fat women's stores had them yet. I'd give up, but I promised Xander that I'd start swimming with him.

MW brought his old XM radio with him, along with the home kit he bought the last time he was in. It's all set up in the living room. I've been listening to the 60's station the most, but I love the 'old time radio' station as well. I'm looking forward to listening to more stations.

Off to bed soon, I guess. I have a meeting with my son's teacher and principal in the morning. I get to ask his teacher to fill out a bunch of forms, because he's OCD and possibly ADHD. I don't care what letters they pick out for him, he's my Xander, and that's all that counts.

I guess I have to stay around for him. Damn.

Paying the Price

I knew it was a bad idea. I bought a bottle of diet Pepsi to go with the Chinese takeaway we had, and it wasn't the caffiene free variety. It was the first caffiene in a long time, and I can feel myself heading towards manic. There are so many things to do, and I need to do them RIGHT NOW!!! I was talking to Xander earlier, and he was having trouble understanding me because I was talking so fast. I only paused to take a breath, then it was off again. I hate that. I hate being manic. People think oits fun, but it's not. It's hell. You want to wind down, but your mind and body won't let you. I'll be lucky to get two hours sleep tonight. Xander and I both have appointments in the morning, so I can't exactly try to nap after getting him off to school. Joe said he'd send the child support tomorrow he'd better do that I owe MW money for the rent. I want to move. I hate this apartmenty I want to find someplace better without cockroaches and landlords who are dirty old men who make you uncomfortable I saw some flats online from some local websites and I wonder if I could talk MW into moving in with us and being my roommate to make it better and get something nicer than we have right now he's almost 34 it's time he moved out of his parents house already!!!!!

I think bloogging and mania don't go well together I can';t seem to type now so I will just go ahead and clean the kitchen my gods it needs it.

I received a letter from Legal Aid Saturday morning. They have decided to represent me in the divorce proceeding (the lawyer seemed to find the abuse to be pretty abhorent), and they will contact me to schedule an appointment for me to go in and sign the papers to get the process started.

It's what I've been wanting. I need it to be done so I can move on with life. So why does it feel like a punch to the gut? I called my Mom, told her about the letter. She didn't understand why I feel down. I doubt MW would really understand if I talked to him about it. I guess it's one of those things where you kind of have to go through it to understand it.

Speaking of MW, I'm worried about him. There's a major snow storm going through, and he's somewhere out in it. I called and left him a message on his voicemail, but he never called me back. That's not like him.

I'm going to bed now, I think. I feel like shit. Too much worrying, not enough sleep. I hope tomorrow will be better.

The Return of Lo Bastardo

I had an appointment at Legal Aid yesterday about the divorce. I told lo bastardo a week and a half ago that I was going to file, so he knows what I am doing. He may even agree to irreconcilable differences. Actually, I'm sure he will, since it would mean the abuse wouldn't be mentioned. It should be simple...

Should be, but isn't. The lawyer I met with, Eva, told me they would probably accept my case, but that they may not be able to help me. I may have to go back to England if I want to file. That would be the only way to hope to recover my thirty thousand pounds that my ex stole from me. Still sounds good, right? Here's the rub: visitation. I may have to send Xander to London every summer. That means that he will miss SummerFest (which he doesn't want to miss), and when he comes home I'll have a snotty, spoiled, rotten little boy to deal with. And until he comes home, I will have to live with the sheer terror of them not sending him home.

Xander has dual citizenship. When we got his passport at the American Embassey, we were told that he couldn't enter the US on his British passport. If he were to do so, he'd lose his American citizenship. My MIL told me "you took my son from me, and I am going to take yours from you". I don't trust her. I can't trust her, can't take the chance. What if I have no choice but to trust her?

My ex has Italian citizenship as well as British. What is to stop my MIL taking Xander to the Italian Consulate (which is very close to their home) and register him as an Italian citizen? If they were to take him to Sicily, I'd not be able to get him back.

Do I go through with the divorce, or do I give up on the idea and stay married? Should I go back to my ex, and hope he really has changed? Our visit to London almost three years ago would suggest he hasn't, since he abused me while we were there.

What can I do to keep my son?

It's almost 11pm on Christmas Eve. My son is in bed, having opened one gift at 7pm. The biggest box, of course. :-) I got all his presents wrapped (I hope), and have been working on wrapping gifts for tomorrow, when I get to see my family. I got my Mom's main gift finished. At least, she thinks it's her main gift. She'd been given a pendant watch that had no chain, and she asked me to make a beaded necklace for it. The watch probably dates to the '50's, but it has a rather Art Deco look, so that's what I tried to match. I hope she'll like it.

The *real* main present for her and Dad is a microwave MW bought them. (Never mind the 'Mr. UF' thing. It's too much hassle. From here on, he's MW.) He's on his way over with my son's bike, which his parents graciously hid for me. I have his presents all wrapped in nice, purple hologrammatic paper. No Christmas paper for him! Me, I don't care what it's wrapped in!

Finished knitting a hat for the little girl that gets the school bus whith my son. I'll take the knitting hoop and yarn with me tomorrow and work on the hat I promised her brother. I also promised two of my nieces I'd knit them hats. Thank goodness the hoops make them fast and easy.

I cut myself a couple days ago. I feel so guilty. I'd stopped for five months, which would be good except that I've stopped longer before. I've gone an entire year without cutting in the past, so why only five months this time?

MW took us to see the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe yesterday. We all three really enjoyed it. We wandered through the mall afterwards, and I had to fight to keep it together. I'd left my purse at home, so I didn't have my Klonopin. My chest hurt, my head began to pound, and i wanted nothing more than to hide in a deep hole, crying and wailing. MW has seen me go through worse (he really *is* a gem), and sent my son up to the apartment to get my purse and a bottle of water. The discovery that Klonopin can be chewed has been a lifesaver for me, as chewing it makes it work faster. I think I looked pretty normal by the time we got to MW's parents house for dinner.

Where *is* that man, anyway?

Oh, well. Boun Natale.

I saw my t-doc on Tuesday. I kept the conversation as light as I could, but she looked at me half-way through the hour and said "damn, you're depressed". I had to admit that she was correct. I haven't been able to make myself take a shower in almost two weeks, and changing clothes just doesn't seem worth the hassle. My t-doc asked me if I had any friends I could talk to. I admitted that I had shut everyone out except Mike, and that's only because he won't let me. But since he went off to drive a truck, I hardly get to talk to him, anyway. There are a few people online I consider friends, but it's not the same. That isn't a slight on efriends. Talking face to face is hard. I have to pretend that I am fine, and it exhausts me. I don't want to complain, because people don't like whiners. I even find myself sugar-coating everything for my t-doc and p-doc.

I had another fucked up nightmare Tuesday night. It just hit me out of left field. Not a flashback nightmare. Those I have on a regular basis. I don't even wake up screaming anymore. This nightmare was one of those you try to wake yourself from and just can't. It follows you as you try to wake, and drags you back into it.

The topic of nightmares leads me to medications. No, really. I suffer from insomnia. However, when I do sleep, I have nightmares. It leaves me with two choices:

Take a sleeping medicine to help me fall asleep before 5:30am or
Take a medication to suppress dreams.

Problem is, I would need both, but they cannot be taken together. But wait, it gets more fun!

My p-doc and i finally found a sleeping med that works for me. Glory hallelujah! Thing is, medicaid won't authorise it. They insist that I have to take one called Sonata. I'm sure it's great, but it doesn't do crap for me. But i have to take it, because we have to try all the meds on the preferred list before they will authorise a script for the one that works. You'd think they'd *like* the one that works, too, because it's non-addicting and they say you can't OD on it. When you suffer from an illness where the main cause of death is suicide, a med that you cannot OD on is a *good* thing.

I'm exhausted. I'll blog* more later.


*whine

A song parody

[Drinking & Cussing are Two of] My Favorite Things

Manhattans, daiquiris, vodka martinis,
G&Ts, shooters and fancy Bellinis,
Rare Cabernets and Long Island Ice Tea:
I drink when I sing and I'm never off-key.

Ripping a blue streak at trolls that are nasty
Driving the fuckheads to angioplasty:
Demanding they shove it where daylight don't shine
Swearing is also a favorite of mine.

Put them together, it gets more effective!
Drunken bravado plus lots of invective!
40-proof whiskey and F-words galore.
Drinking and cussing are things I adore!

When the fan spins
When the shit hits
When I'm feeling mad
I simply indulge in these favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad.

*****

I would like to both thank and commend the author of this parody, ET from the www.newshounds.us O/T forum.