Today is Sunday. My free day. My day to do whatever I would like.
I woke up full on tension and stress. I can seem to let it go.
I know I have to figure this out, because it’s killing me. There other day I ask my husband , “Are things ever going to get better?”
Then next minute my computer USB devices ALL failed. He answered, “Apparently not.”
I know my writing has been a downer lately. Even I don’t want to read it or publish it.
I desperately need to get out of this toxic environment. I feel like leaving and never coming back. Last time I felt this way, I packed up what I needed in my red Ford Fiesta and left to live in Dallas without even a job. That was over twenty years ago. And now I see even more clearly why I left.
That was then, now we have a business here and other commitments. Leaving doesn’t appear to be an option.
That is my harsh reality.
Oh it isn’t so bad. But I hate it when people say stuff like “others have it worse.” That doesn’t make me feel any better it only makes me feel bad for the other people who suffer. Being miserable isn’t a competition.
Sure I’m not on fire, but that doesn’t mean sh*t.
We bid on another house. I’m not expecting to get it. Our bid was really low. I’ve decided I don’t want to live where I have to carry a weapon and we have to install security. So that knocks out entire neighborhoods.
In the meantime my kids are getting ready to leave, their Thanksgiving breaks are over. They will be home again in December, which is good for me to keep in mind.
Maybe by then a miracle will happen.