I’m frustrated for sooooo many reasons. But I just paid for two more years with Go Daddy, so I thought I’d try to write more as a type of therapy. I’ve given up on a decent, meaningful, inspiring legacy. I’ve given up on a nice little family history for the generations to come . . . because my life is a total mess and I cringe to think that anyone would ever read it. But, it’s good for me to process through writing.
Last week I had a little ugly breakdown and yelled at my two wonderful, amazing, super-supporting and understanding daughters. Why? I don’t know why I would ever take out on them my dark-hole of emotions and actually not do anything to the one person who deserves all kinds of retaliation and broken bones, and bloody extremities. Oh, the time I have spent praying and pleading for a bloody and final outcome. Doesn’t happen that way, though. It seems like the only person that actually suffers and has a king size duodenal ulcer to deal with ever single day is moi. Justice is not going to happen in this life.