From time to time I manage to get a chin over the edge of this pit I share with my babadook. It's been a hopeful few months since the husband completed rehab in February. I have filtered in and out of a good half dozen jobs since loosing mine of eleven years back in October 2015, mostly because I was unable to leave him alone in a house with three dogs-two of which will fight to the death if they encounter each other. The stress was incredible. I didn't sleep; nighttime was when he would go out to buy more beer, and during the day he sat in the dark and drank until he passed out. The demons, his and mine, have orchestrated every move for the better part of the last three and a half years. Basically since he returned from his failed attempt to establish a new life with the Virginian whore.
There's a much wished for prospect that I should have word of one way or the other early next week, a position with the state again. Administrative this time, no more running call lights all over a hospital ward this time. The position comes with a decent salary, a state vehicle and cell phone...but no benefits. This in itself is not a deterrent, many government positions begin as temporary, or temporary grant positions through a probationary period. We'll see. Money is definitely tight. He's been making it work on just his income, but I have to get back out there now that he's safely back in recovery mode. I'm still angry when I think about it. Thirteen years of sobriety. She destroyed so much and sent him tumbling down a dark hole. And yes, I know she had help. But it didn't take long to see who pulled the strings, who scripted every word he said and move he made once the abrupt decision was made to leave. Discovering their real-time conversations via Verizon Chat on the tablet he'd left behind confirmed that.
Anyway... The clouds have parted, both metaphorically and literally (hello early monsoon season.) And with the exception of a muffled shuffle from the pit now and then I've managed to keep the dead mother-failed marriage-tragically deceased old boyfriend-lost job-pedophile stepfather babadook relatively quiet. Yay coping skills, you're killin' it.
11:06 a.m. - 2017-06-17
Recent entries:
start from here - 2017-06-17
slipping below - 2017-05-30
remember when middle distance was failure? - 2016-12-22
calm your tits america - 2016-11-20
send a winchester, just in case - 2016-11-15
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