StupidShittyLife

I can't even think of a title for this blog. I don't even want to be blogging but somehow it seems easier than dealing with emails asking me why I haven't been blogging or the dreaded "how are things going" emails....god I hate those. How the hell am I supposed to reply. How do you THINK things are going?!

It all started on Thursday. I was out shopping and my SIL called me on my cell to tell me that my daughter was on her way to the police station. She had been arrested for shoplifting makeup at Zellers in our local mall. Oh lovely. When I got home, there was a message from a police officer, so I called him back expecting it to be about the incident. It wasn't...it was about my Uncle, who is accused (and undoubtedly guilty) of molesting a child in my family. The officer wanted to come over and take a statement from me to see if there was anything I knew that could possibly help the case, which keeps being bounced back from Crown Counsel due to lack of evidence. So anyways, he came over and took my statement, which of course was heartwrenching and awful for me. To me, harming a child in that way is the unthinkable. It makes me physically ill.

Then, on Sunday, my SIL calls again and tells me that my daughter has just called her and is bawling her eyes out because she has nowhere to stay. She has lost her winter jacket and it is -35 outside. I took down the number she called from and my man called over there to see what was going on. Daughter was drunk and said that she needed help because she can't stop drinking and doing drugs. She claimed to have been on ecstacy every day for the last 30 days. How much truth to that I do not know, because she is a habitual liar and a drama queen. Horrible thing to say about my own flesh and blood, but I am just speaking the truth. She will say anything for sympathy lately. Well, sympathy is something she is NOT getting from me at this point. No fucking way am I playing into that. She has made this bed and in it she must lie. So we load everyone in the car in 30 below weather to go and get her. We pick her up from this shithole of a townhouse. She's drunk, her hair is dyed bleach blonde (from black last week, you can imagine how nice it looks) ...I can't even look at her. When I look at her, extremely unhealthy emotions boil up inside me. I said nothing as we drove her to the hospital's Youth Detox. I had already called ahead and reserved a bed for her. We get there and the doors are locked so we ring the buzzer and we wait. And wait. And wait. A good ten minutes in the freezing fucking cold, waiting to admit my 15 year old daughter for Detox. Not a real high point in my life, let me tell you. We walked in, I wrote down her Care Card number and we left. She shouted something at me as I was walking away, something about how I didn't fucking care anyways. Oh yeah right, this was how I wanted to spend my Sunday evening. I cried the whole way home and then cried myself to sleep.

Yesterday, SIL calls (she really needs a slap upside the head for being such a bearer of bad news) to tell me that a mutual friend of ours delivered her baby girl at 6.5 months along last week and buried her on Saturday. What the fuck. This world is one cruel place and if there is a God, he is one sadistic motherfucker. My heart goes out to her like you wouldn't believe. She has one 6 year old boy already and did NOT want any more babies, her first pregnancy was awful. She is divorced and remarried now and decided to have another because it was so important to her new man. I have to wonder if their relationship can handle something this devastating. She told SIL there is absolutely no way she will try again and that she is getting her tubes tied ASAP. Will he resent her for not trying again? Will she resent him for pushing her into a pregnancy that she didn't really want? What will happen to ME if I suffer yet another loss in a couple of months...???

And so today, I sit here still in my jammies, unshowered and not giving a shit about anything or anyone. I have spent the majority of the day laying in bed with severe stomach pain. Not sure if it is gastroitis that I have had previously from stress, as it feels MUCH more painful than that, but whatever it is it feels like I have been kicked right in the guts. I guess in reality life has kicked me in the guts. Now I just have to figure out how to get up and get on with it before it drags me down to the point of no return.

Profanity Philled Rant about Draco (spelling mistake intended)

So this afternoon I am hanging out with my man and the phone rings....it's the ex's cell number on my Caller ID. Those of you that know me will know that this event only takes place in cases of extreme emergency. He doesn't speak to me, ever, we only communicate via email. Pretty effing twisted since we see each other 10 times a week for pick-ups/drop-offs. So I answer and he's telling me he is at the courthouse for our hearing and where am I? WHAT?!?! This is MY hearing, MY day in court that I have been patiently waiting for for MONTHS now. I flipped my lid on him, so he put his lawyer (let's call him BS, short for Big Shot..or whatever :P) on the phone and I tore the guy a new one. How in the HELL was I not served with notice of this hearing, MY hearing? I ended up hanging up on BS and hopping in my car. I drove like a maniac (thank God for radar detectors) to the courthouse and as I was approaching, I see EX and BS outside, waiting for me. I peeled into the first spot I saw, parking half on the curb and hauled ass up the courthouse steps. BS greets me with a "Good Afternoon, Miss (insert last name)" to which I snorted "go to hell" and slammed my way through the doors like the classy broad that I am.

I walk into the conference room and there are signs on the table for Defendant and Applicant. At the Defendant side of the table, there is a barely any elbow room due to the well organized stacks of papers and manila folders. On my side, there is a jug of water and a glass. Empty and bare. My folder is at home, chock full of well organized notes to follow and point form arguments to make. It's at this moment it hits me - I have nothing but me.

The Judge walks in and I apologize for being unprepared and express my extreme upset about not being notified of the hearing date. She completely understands and although it appears that it was an error made by the court registry, BS's office also should have notified me and didn't. I would be willing to bet my left tit (and it was 'spency LOL) that this was a tactic. Somehow, some way, this was done to make ME look like an ass. Job well done, boys.

After asking a few routine questions, the Judge allowed me to say a few words. I think I did a pretty decent job getting my point across as to why we were there. I explained that the current schedule is hectic (back and forth ten times a week, yes TEN) and that with the majority of my time with my son being daytime, I am unable to persue the option of going back to work full time because I would never see him. To add insult to injury I would then be 100% financially responsible for daycare costs because it would fall into "my" time. When it came time for BS to explain why they were so opposed to my application, he goes on this big rant about my "disabled down syndrome kid" (yes, that's a direct quote) and how any change to the schedule may be traumatic for him. GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK. I literally wanted to leap over the giant round table and strangle the life out of this ignorant piece of crap. The fact that M has Ds has NOTHING to do with this situation!!!! Is that the best he's got? Is EX really ok with his lawyer playing the Down Syndrome Card in court? Could I have honestly procreated with such a fucking asshole? Apparently so, because he sat there, all smug, leering at me from across the table. I guess I really don't even know him any more, who the hell is this Phil guy anyways?

Anyways, before I go off on a tangent about the remainder of the conference, it ended with the Judge saying that since the application is so vehemently opposed, this must go to trial. Guess how long of a wait it is for a trial? 6-8 months. SIX TO EIGHT MONTHS before this can be resolved. And of course, no guarantees that I will win. Things could very well remain as is and if I choose to work full-time, it will mean seeing my son ONE evening a week. What the FUCK.

Needless to say, I am beyond upset. I have never hated anyone as much as I hate EX right now. I loathe him and that's not nearly an intense enough word. I envision myself opening the door the next time he comes here (tomorrow at 5pm) and throwing him off the porch, right on his fat ass for all the neighbors to see. I imagine walking into his place of work and just plowing him, square in his smirky fucking face. You're probably wondering how I can be so cruel, right? If only you knew what this bastard has put me through since I left his sorry ass 3 years ago. It has been month after month of hell, with me always conceding and giving in to his ridiculous demands because I can't deal with it any more. Throughout the separation, my lawyer called him Draconian, in fact she even printed it in a letter about him, which I will save for years to come. I just might start calling him that to his face. Thousands of dollars wasted on said lawyer (which is the reason I don't have one this time around) for what? I walked away with nothing and every time I turn around, I'm bending over to take it up the ass all over again.

I am an absolute mess right now, my eyelids are swollen, my right leg won't stop shaking and I have that stupid hiccup thing that happens when you cry too hard.


This sucks.


edited to add: I came out of the courthouse to find a parking ticket on my windshield. Fuck me.

Bittersweet Decisions

So, it looks like two lines it's going to be. Starting my next cycle, we will be actively trying to conceive. Unfortunately, this decision comes in the wake of terrible news. The job I was waiting to hear about is no longer available, as the person for whom I would have been working for has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. It would be awful news whether I knew her or not, but it's especially saddening because she is a family member of a friend of mine, a friend whom I would consider in my "inner circle", even if we have only been friends for a short period of time. I care about her and what happens in her world, so I am sad for her. And for me, too. Not on the same level, but I am disappointed that I won't be given the opportunity to work for this person, because I believe she would have been the perfect person to help me on my way in my career.

I wasn't sure that me not going back to work right away was going to push me to make a decision about getting pregnant, but after several days of mulling it over, talking it out with my man and weighing the pros and cons, I figured why the hell not. Let's face it, waiting another 3 months or even 3 years isn't going to take away any of the fears I have about pregnancy. I am going to make an appointment with my doctor, but I know she will tell me the standard stuff....not to worry, I will be monitored, blah blah blah. I know she will give me the go ahead.

So I was feeling pretty good about this decision and then I remembered something, something huge. In some sick sense of irony (the story of my life), the day that I made this decision to have another baby, today, January 7th, is also my daughter's 15th birthday. Fifteen years ago today, when I was only 15 years old, I was laying in the hospital, alone (my mother having literally dropped me on the curb outside the entrance doors because she was late for work) and I was riddled with fear. It's almost funny when I think back. I was scared of the pain of labor and delivery. I was nervous about whether or not I would be able to take care of my tiny, fragile newborn baby because I was still a baby myself. Fast forward fifteen years and nothing much has changed. I am a grown woman now, but I am still unable to care for that very same child. Despite my best efforts, I was incapable of making my daughter's life a good one. She is on a path to self destruction and I am a helpless bystander. I have failed horribly as a Mother and yet here I am, ready to bring another child into my life.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Smiley Girl With The Perfect Life

You've heard about her a couple times. There she is people, in all her white-toothed glory. Smiling, happy, radiant. You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you that 45 minutes before this picture was taken, she was locked in her bedroom, curled up in a ball with a pillow over her head sobbing to the point of being unable to speak, gasping for air. But it's true. Her unbelievably supportive man (seen on the right, amazingly without any visible injuries) had to remove the bedroom doorknob with a screwdriver (this is the difference between him and me, I woulda just kicked it down) and coerce her out of bed like a cop talking a person off a window ledge. Gently and quietly, while carefully choosing his words so as not to spark total disaster. Somehow she managed to peel herself off the bed, pull herself together, and half a tube of concealer and a Kleenex full of snot later, walk out the door as if she spent the day relaxing at the spa. You know that commercial, "Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's Maybelline?" Well, it's definitely Maybelline. Except that I really am a diva at heart, so it's actually MAC, but who's comparing.

This is my life some (ok, most) days. I feel like a person who is battling Multiple Personality Disorder or a similar condition. It's emotionally draining pretending to be something you're not. Quite frankly, Scarlett, I'm sick of it. I now have zero patience for people who really DO have good lives. I secretly look forward to hearing about other people's misfortunes, because then maybe they will get a taste of what my life feels like. Bitter much?

Is this really who I've become? And if so, is there any turning back? Will I ever be able to tell someone I am doing well or congratulate them on something good they have going on and actually MEAN it? Will the drama and pretending ever end? Forget the Perfect Life part, will I ever actually BE Smiley Girl? One can dream, I suppose.

Well, I have to run, we are hosting a drinks & appies night tonight. The house will be immaculate, the food will be to die for and I will be my usual fake fun, lying likeable, phony perfect self. Ciao! :)

Life is not like a box of chocolates, it's more like a box full of shit

I woke up today in an 'okay' mood. Then life punched me in the gut.


Now I just want to die. Be gone. Disappear.


I hate this pathetic excuse for a life.

Pardon the French, but f*ck me this is a BAD day

Today was the last day for the previous owner (let's call him FA, you figure it out) of this stupid house to reply to our letter. We gave him 2 options, the first being that he could buy the house back from us for ALL of our costs to date (I really hope he doesn't choose this one, I do not want to move AGAIN) and the second being that he put $50,000 into our lawyers trust account and then when the repairs get done in the spring, that will pay for it and remaining funds (if any) will be given back to him. If neither was agreeable to him, we sue his lying ass in court for all costs, including legal fees and emotional stress. We would likely win, but how long it would actually take to get the money off him is another story. It could be several years if we had to garnish his wages. I'm not sure where the $70,000ish up front is going to come from. I'll probably just go pick it off the money tree in the backyard.

So, the realtor called today to say that FA has gotten his own lawyer and would like an extension to prepare a reply. F*CK. Are you kidding me? I have been waiting ALL WEEK LONG for this day, just so that I know what we are facing. I cannot bear the thought of going through the already crappy Christmas season not knowing. He has known about the problems since the day after we took possession (this was the day it flooded...happy f*cking housewarming) and he has had ten days to respond to the letter. I am FED UP. I want to drive over to his new house and a) haul him outside and beat the living crap out of him b) put a garden hose on full blast in his basement window and see how he likes them apples or c) BOTH

OH JOY. The phone just rang as I am typing. It was my mother calling to tell me that my daughter is in jail. Apparently she showed up at the school (which she hasn't been attending for weeks) and was high and freaking out so they called the police. Is this really happening? I mean, REALLY HAPPENING?

I just want to curl up in a ball and die. Bloody f*cking hell. THIS IS NOT MY LIFE, it is someone's twisted and sick idea of a cruel joke. I swear it has to be.

Women shouldn't try to be funny

Quote, unquote. My man said that to me this morning. We were driving, listening to the radio and the radio host(ess) was attempting a joke. Granted it was a feeble attempt....but the statement was a tad harsh, don't you think? I turned to him, a disgusted look on my face, and said "Did you REALLY just say that?!" I was half-expecting him to correct himself, but the part of me that knows him well knew he actually meant it. That part was right. He went on to try and explain, basically saying that there are no truly funny women. I tried to think of some examples, but I couldn't, at least not off the top of my head. I'd like to think that *I* am funny, but lately I'm just the girl that everyone shakes their head about when they hear the latest saga in my life.

This is why I have stopped telling people about my woes. This is why I am blogging instead. I walk around in a daze, with a big sh!t-eating grin on my face, pretending my life is just peachy keen, with a cherry on top. 'Tis the season for running into people who will undoubtedly ask me how I am doing. I'm good!! Fabulous, really. Life is just wonderful, and you? How are the kids? Oh, they're doing GREAT. Especially my daughter, she's a real gem. How's the new house? It's fantastic, we're just SO glad we bought it. Did I tell you it has an indoor pool? Are you having Christmas with the family? Absolutely, you bet. We'll spend one day with my child molesting uncle and the next with the in-laws who wish I would fall off the face of the Earth.

Is this really my life? Because it sure the f*ck is not what I signed up for. I want Damn She's Funny Girl back, but since women shouldn't try to be funny, I guess I'll just have to settle for Smiley Girl With The Perfect Life.