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What you can expect:
The brutal truth of me, without all the sugary coating.
Here I am just me, UNCUT and UNEDITED.
I talk about my family, my divorce, and a lot about MAKEUP.
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Sunday, July 27, 2014

Tired



I'm tired of holding it all together.

I'm tired of staying strong for everybody but me.

I'm tired of keeping a straight face when I want to scream.

I'm tired of bending to please people.

I'm tired of being tired.

This morning I pulled up to my ex's house to drop off the kids, thinking I'd go in and talk to him about a few things, just get some stuff worked out.

Her car was in my parking spot.

I know, it's not my parking spot anymore. But it just hit me again, like a ton of bricks in a pillow case, that SHE OWNS MY SPACE now. Not just a parking space, all my space. I never even thought I loved my apartment, but now that it's HIS apartment and not MY apartment, it really bothers my senses. Sometimes I think it would be easier if he had moved, so I didn't see his house as "my" house anymore.

I know I shouldn't see it that way anymore, I just can't help it. I pull in the drive, and I feel like I'm going home. It was my home, our home, for only two years, but I feel like it's always going to be MINE.

It's not mine. She parks in my spot, opens "my" door with her key, her shampoo lives in "my" shower, she sleeps in "my" bed, etc. It's NOT mine, and honestly it isn't even a problem. It's a natural evolution of things. When I go into the apartment, it doesn't feel like mine. I don't feel like I should go into the kitchen and make a sandwich. I don't feel like I should go take a nap on the bed I haven't slept in for two years now. It doesn't actually feel like mine anymore.

But today, not having a parking spot snapped something that's been struggling for a while now. Something in my brain, or my heart, something that lives deep down and tries not to escape, ESCAPED. I lost it over a parking spot.

My kids, whom I WANT TO BE HAPPY, excitedly exclaimed, "[She]'s here!" when they saw her car in "my" spot. They ran inside and didn't stop to say goodbye. This should make me happy, because I want them to have a home and a family in BOTH places. I want them to have someone around who will make them happy and help them through when I am not. I am grateful they don't see her car and groan! I really am.

But I'm selfish and immature, and on the verge of losing it anyway, so I cried. I cried the whole way home. I cried in my mother's driveway. I came inside and cried in my bed.

I didn't just cry. I screamed. I kicked my feet and screamed like a toddler. I screamed the scream I've been holding back for months, maybe years. I just let it OUT.

It's not even about the girl. It's not about the kids or the ex husband. It's about all the daily little things that I have to endure with a smile, so I don't scare my children, or I don't treat my family disrespectfully. I adore my family, and I've had such great times with them lately! The fact is, though, people are hard to live with. I am difficult to live with, for sure. I am lucky enough to have an incredible mother, who lets us live with her, and I manage to feel oppressed anyway. Not because I am, or because of her, but because I am about to turn thirty and I live in my mother's basement. I am THAT girl. And I don't want to be that girl! I want to be independent and strong. I want to be the single mom who shows everyone I AM WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR.

Ok, technically, I roared today. But only the dog heard it. And I think I scared her.

The sun'll come out tomorrow, right? Time to make dinner...

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