End of Days

I think, therefore I fear. I have an obsession with Armageddon and the end of the world. I have pretty much been interested (i.e. terrified) in since I was about 12 years old and first really comprehended the implications of death and war. I know most of the prophecies, and have researched almost all of them. I am particularly obsessed with 12.21.2012. I have nightmares about it, I will have periods of time where it is all I think about. I will spend hours online searching for more predictions and compiling lists of independent predictions that coincide. I have pored over the book of Revelations so many times that I nearly have it memorized.

On top of that, I have a serious problem with believing in God. My problem is that I want to believe. I want to believe more than anything I could possibly want, but I have such a hard time. I think too much. I can't help but question. I feel like I just don't try hard enough. Like the answer is on the tip of my tongue, but I just can't get it out.

I'm so incredibly terrified of the end of the world. I'm both afraid that there is a god, and all the prophecies will come true and I'll end up going to hell for being a lukewarm believer, or that there isn't a god and the prophecies will come true and I'll suffer only to die a real and final death. Do I fear hell or do I fear a complete cessation of existence more? It's hard to say. I almost fear the end of me more than I fear hell, but of course if there is a hell, not existing would be infinitely better then going to hell if it really is as bad as it is supposed to be.

One thing I do believe, I do believe that the world is going to end in my lifetime.
Maybe its only because I also fear the alternative, dying of old age. I don't know what's worse. I have such a fear of death and the end of the world that I have panic attacks when I think about it too much. It's ridiculous, really, but I can't help it. When I start to think about it I have to force myself to think of someone else so I don't freak out. If I really could believe that there was something beyond death then maybe I'd be ok. But I can't. I want to, and sometimes I do, but I don't believe it all the time.

What's interesting is that while I've always had this fear, it's never been this bad until Chase was born. Before that, it was all abstract. But now, it's constantly just under the surface. I will be playing with him and someone will make some kind of comment about him growing up, which of course naturally leads me to think of my growing older, and my thoughts progress from there. And then I have to sing at the top of my lungs, or read a book, or somehow detach the thought from myself. I just want someone to hold my hand and tell me that there is nothing to fear.

--Dragon Read more!

Your World Is Killing Me

Bored and lonely. The weather today and yesterday has been bad. Really bad, especially yesterday (note: if you live in some part of the world that actually has real storms, you're going to laugh at me. But this is California. We don't have real storms here). The wind blew trees and telephone poles down all over the place, roads were closed, and pretty much the only part of town that still had power was the part I live in. Lucky me. There are still people without electricity.

Thanks to the lovely weather, my boss canceled work yesterday. Making me miss out on 3 or 4 houses (a full day, in other words), so my next check will be for only 2 days, as have been every check for the past 3 or 4 weeks. I've been clearing less than $100 a check, and I'm pretty much screwed.

Next week I have Monday off because I have 3 appointments that I made before I started working at Merry Maids, and we are supposed to be having fewer houses each week now that the holidays are over. This sucks. This really sucks. I love my job. My bosses are fantastic, and so are all the girls I work with. But I need to essentially make double what I'm making now just to break even.

On top of that, I start school on the 22nd and will be going to school from about 8am until 10pm Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then from 11am until 5pm on Saturdays. Which leaves me 3 days to work, as I refuse to work on Sundays. I have worked 2 jobs before without any days off, and it was sheer hell. There is no way for me to make it if I don't have one day off a week. I will self-destruct, as I did before. So I can either get a second job working Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in the evenings, or I can find another job that somehow magically pays more and lets me work those days during the day.

Now, while it would suck, I could do it-- if I didn't have Chase. How can I work two jobs, go to school full time, and still take care of Chase? He'll never get to see me. I'll be gone from 8am until 11 or 12pm every day except Saturday and Sunday. That's got to be detrimental to the kid's mental health, right? What should I do? I am swiftly running out of time to figure out how to make it all work. Fuck. Yep. Bad words, even.

--Dragon Read more!

Not Enough To Go Around

Life isn't going so well.

I just started a new job and I tried to quit today. The only reason I didn't quit is because the owners, Andy and Cyndy, made me feel so much better. We sat down and talked about it and they were completely understanding.

I feel like a wreck. I had the worst day. Everything was going wrong. I just freaked out. I couldn't do anything right, everything was just so overwhelming I burst into tears over any little thing. I feel like I'm drowning. I can't seem to see a way out. Every time I think I've figured it out, something else goes wrong and I feel like everything is pressing in on me. I can barely breathe. I hate this feeling. I just want it to end. I was fantasizing about getting hit by a truck today. Why would I think that? That's not normal. I don't know what to do. I am afraid to talk to anyone. I have a really hard time telling anyone anything negative about myself. Even when I try, it's like I've got an invisible hand clamped over my mouth that won't let me speak.

I stopped taking my meds about a month ago. I don't think they were working any more. I started having panic attacks again, so why take the meds if they don't stop the panic attacks? My mom thinks that I should get a different prescription, but it's so hard. It took me over a year to find a psychiatrist who actually listened to me and did anything to help me, and then a month later he went out of business. I don't want to deal with it again. It was so hard. I hate psychiatrists. I hate counselors. They do nothing to help, they don't know what it's like. It must be nice to be normal, to be able to handle things without freaking out.

I'm sick of it. I don't know what to do. Everything is so overwhelming. If I could just get a few nights of uninterrupted sleep, maybe it would be ok. I don't know. I am gasping for air under water. What do I do???

--Dragon Read more!

Sleepless in Chico

Disclaimer: I have a VERY dirty mouth. I curse like a sailor. (You can thank my high school friends for that) Please forgive me if I cause offense.

I just want to sleep. How is that too much to ask? Sleep- a basic human need. But no. I get no sleep. This is partially my fault. Sort of. I don't go to bed until midnight or one. But in my defense, I usually can't fall asleep until then anyway. Then, the buffin wakes up either around 2:00 or 2:30 or if I'm really super lucky, at 4:30 or 5:00. If he wakes at 2:00, he still wakes up around 4:30. At 4:30 he suddenly decides that, hey, it's time to wake up and make happy little buffin noises and fuss whenever he pushes his binky out of his mouth or I actually start to fall asleep. Yep. Frickin' fun times, I tell you. Finally, he goes to sleep sometime after 6:00. And then wakes again at 8:30. And stays up for the next 3 hours. Oh, and did I mention I have insomnia? Quite often it takes me hours to fall asleep anyway. Except when I initially fall asleep. But when I wake up after that, all bets are off. No fucking sleep. God. I just want to fucking sleep.

Oh, and pretty much anytime I try to eat, he suddenly needs to be held. Try eating hot cabbage and polish sausage with a windmilling buffin in your arms. Yeah. So not happening. Effing Erik. I hate him I hate him I hate him. He is completely incompetent. Never comes over lately until I ask him. Never flipping buys anything for Chase unless I ask him (had to type Chase like 6 times-- kept typing 'Xhase' lol), and can't change a diaper to save his life, can't burp him, can't take him anywhere because he's an idiot and doesn't know how to drive safely if it where to garner him a million dollars for every mile he drove. Effing idiot. I hope he trips and falls on his big stupid face.

'Oh, I have a son. Oh, I'm so proud of him. I love him so much. Blah Blah Blah Chase Blah Blah...' Imbecile. If you love him then why the FUCK are you not here spending time with him? What about when he needs diapers and clothes? Oh and how you made me feel bad that I made you buy that vaporizer and baby Tylenol when he was sick with the cold YOU gave him, huh??????

You pay like $100 a month in rent to your sister, who, by the way, wants your freeloading ass off her couch like now. You don't pay car insurance, because you have an insurance card that you stopped paying like 8 months ago because you said that they can't prove you don't have insurance when you get pulled over cuz your card says it expires in November. Your only bills are your car payment and your cell phone bill. You don't even pay that medical bill you have or the 3 credit cards that you maxed out.

I don't care if you are suddenly working 30 hours a week. Inevitably, one of your clients will die, or go into a home, or something else, and your hours will be cut drastically. And of course you won't bother calling in to ask for more hours for weeks or even months. Because you're a stupid lazy slob. But you refuse to look for another job because 'you don't like searching for a job'. Yeah. Cuz the rest of us just effing love it.

Oh, and then when you do come over you smell like wrankled ass shoved into a paper bag and ding-dong-ditched on my poor unsuspecting furniture. I tell you as politely as possible that you reek and you need a shower, even offer the use of my shower, and you tell me you have no clean clothes. So I give you 2 dollars that I could use for my clothes, because everyone in this house needs clean clothes in the worst way (but at least our 'recycled' clothes are still pretty much clean and we have the forethought to at least use Febreze) and I only have enough to do one load for each person, and I've been sleeping on a bare mattress for 2 weeks cuz I only have one set of sheets and the buffin spit up all over them and I really need to wash my blankets cuz they smell like dog, not to mention my mom's blankets, which now have eau de wrankled ass on them cuz you sat on the couch when she still had her bedding on it. (yes, that is the biggest run on sentence ever) I tell you to take a shower and wash clothes and then come back over, but of course you don't. I effing hate you. And, on top of the fact that you are completely useless, YOU GET A FULL NIGHTS SLEEP EVERY NIGHT AND HAVE THE BALLS TO BITCH THAT YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP ONCE IN A WHILE TO LET THE CAT OUT. Asshole. Effing useless, uncouth, thoughtless, inconsiderate, waste-of-perfectly-good-carbon molecules asshole. Go eat a bowl of dicks.

--Dragon Read more!

Love Shouldn't Hurt

I had a post in mind today about being poor and how tired I was of never having enough money. Then I read Granny's newest post and found this:


My father is friendly, charismatic, funny, helpful, and entertaining. He is also an abuser. People who have met him often can't believe that he could be capable of some of the things he has done. So often people believe that they would know an abusive person if they saw one. The sad truth is that no, you can't. People like that are very good at hiding that part of themselves from the outside world.

As he was a trucker, we didn't see him often until he hurt his back when I was about 10, so I think there was much less of it before then. I'm not sure whether it had to do with it being pre-accident, or just that we didn't live with him on a daily basis. I suspect it was a little of both. I think that I saved my brothers from a lot of it growing up. I was always trying to protect them. I was the oldest, I felt it was my responsibility to keep them safe. My mom had it much worse than we did, though. I probably don't know the half of it, but the things I do know make me sick.

He was both emotionally and physically abusive. Especially after he hurt his back. He was on medication that made him hallucinate and paranoid. He believed my mother was cheating on him with a multitude of other guys while she was at work. He saw phantom numbers written everywhere- on the walls, under the mattress, on his power tools, in chalk on the sidewalk. He would show my brothers and me the numbers he thought he saw, and threatened to punish us if we "lied" and said we didn't see them.

I was constantly telling him no, daddy, there were no numbers. He was imagining things. He didn't believe me and I would get in trouble. I tried so hard to protect my brothers from that, but I couldn't be there all the time. They weren't as strong as I was, and so he would get them alone, they would agree with whatever he said. They were too afraid not to.

Once, when I was about 11, I did something bad (I can't for the life of me remember what), and he instructed me to go out to one of the trees in the back yard and cut off a switch. Then he had me stand on a chair in front of the dinner table where my brothers were eating dinner, had me pull down my pants, and beat me with it until all the leaves came off. It's funny, even now I cringe at using the word "beat". I know I didn't deserve it, and I never felt as if the abuse was my fault, but I still feel some bizarre need to protect him, to make light of it.

There are other incidents that I can think of, but this is the one that always stands out in my mind. Not even so much for the pain, but the sheer humiliation. I couldn't look my brothers in the eye for days afterward. There was name calling, being belittled for mistakes, being told I was fat.

I so wanted to be perfect. I wanted to make my dad proud. I did the best I could in school because I knew I could and because it was one area where I excelled. I was daddy's little helper, I was always there to help him out. I wanted to be useful. It hurts, to think of the stark contrast between the man who beat me with the switch and the man who taught me to use power tools and let me design and help build an easel for my birthday present. How could they be the same person? How could that kind, funny, charming man that was my father turn into the raving, angry asshole who would hit his wife and his kids?

I hate that I have experienced this. The worst part of it all is that I know I am capable of it. I have a violent temper and when I'm angry my words are like daggers. I try so hard to avoid getting angry, because I hate the person I become. The meds have helped, but I still see the tendency and it comes out far too often for my liking. I have such a hard time talking about it, admitting that I could do something like this. I don't want my son to grow up ever knowing that kind of pain. Love shouldn't hurt. Mommy and daddy should be the embodiment of safety and happiness for a child. It's so hard to say something like that about yourself, though. When I am in public, talking to a stranger, even a counselor or psychiatrist, I change. I am suddenly happy, charming, friendly, wouldn't-hurt-a-fly. It's effortless. It's also why my bipolar went undiagnosed for so long. And digging beneath that, showing someone the black marks on my soul is just about the hardest thing I can imagine doing.

I have been a victim of domestic abuse. I don't really talk about it often, but occasionally something happens to remind me. Yesterday my brother and I were talking and he casually mentioned a time my dad beat him. It occurred to me that normal families don't have those kinds of conversations. It made me so sad to hear him say that. We need to find a way to stop this-- to protect those weaker than ourselves from those that would hurt them. Sometimes we even need to protect them from ourselves. We need to stop the cycle. Every victim is a potential future abuser-- how's that for irony?

--Dragon Read more!

If It's Not One Thing...

Let me first say that I feel so much better. Thank you so much to everyone who commented regarding my fear of labor. Of the few people I've told so far about it, some have been very supportive while others have made it seem as if I was being selfish and unreasonable, and I was just very afraid that more people would feel that way. I have a tendency to be a shameless people pleaser, sometimes to the extreme. You have helped me see that it's ok, whether they think so or not, because what matters is what I am comfortable with. Again, thank you. :)

That said, right now Erik is driving me nuts. Remember how about 3 months ago, in June, I kicked him out mainly because he refused to step up to the plate and get a decent job? Well guess what: still no good job.

I have done everything in my power to help him find a job. I have done far more than I should have to, more than anyone else in their right mind would do, I'm sure. I created a resume', found ads for jobs that sounded suitable, I signed him up for a class to learn how to write his own resume' and another class to help him work on his interview skills. I even told him what to wear to an interview. It turns out I'm not the only one-- his aunt and sister bought him a bunch of new clothes that were more professional than his old clothes, everyone in his family, even his sister's boyfriend keep an eye out for jobs he might like and let him know about them.

Regardless of all the help he's getting, he still won't do anything. I've told him in every way I know of that he needs to get a new job, that not only are his expenses going to go up once the baby is born, but he can't even keep up with his current bills. He goes from agreeing with me to giving me all kinds of rediculous reasons as to why he can't search for jobs now. For example, his band is playing in an upcoming festival about 2 weeks from now. Now, I'm pretty good at getting a job easily, but even for me 2 weeks is pretty fast. Not to mention if you let them know that you have prior engagements, most employers understand.

I'm not the only one who is getting fed up with him. Everyone in his family has been after him and feel as if he should be taking responsibility. We are all so frustrated with him. Babies cost money. Now, I have plenty of help if I need it. I have my mom, Sara, my dad, everyone in Erik's family including his mom and stepdad, both his aunts, his uncle, his grandma, and his sister and her boyfriend. So if I ever really need something, there is no shortage of people who will gladly help me out. However, it's still Erik's responsibility.

I'm hoping that he will surprise us all when faced with reality in all its screaming, pooping, chubby-cheeked glory, and do his share. But to be quite honest, I really don't believe he will. And it frustrates and angers me to no end. I don't want to be a bitch. I don't want to have to tell him that either he gets a job and starts helping out financially or I'll have to go to Child Support Services and let them go after him. Because they will attach his wages and he'll have no choice but to get a better job, as he'll have barely anything left. They don't care whether he can pay his bills or not. I'm not that cruel. But if he doesn't hurry up and be a man, then I'll have no choice.

I'm so sick of being put in positions like this. I'd much, much rather be nice. If people would only listen to me, everything would work out so much better. It's not like I say these things because I like the sound of my own voice (and really, I don't. It's too high pitched.). I just don't feel like I have any other choice.

--Dragon Read more!

Over and Over...

I feel it everyday it's all the same
It brings me down but I'm the one to blame
I've tried everything to get away
So here I go again
Chasing you down again
Why do I do this?
(--Three Days Grace)

Sometimes I hate being me. As in, really, truly despise the person that I am. Sometimes it's because I can be a mean, heartless, firebreathing wench. (Bet you'd like to see that, huh?) Other times it's because I am too effing nice. One facet of this is that I have a tendency to let people walk all over me. Whenever I make a new friend I have to be constantly vigilant that they don't turn out to be a bloodsucking vampire as so many that I have known turn out to be.

The other is that I don't fight for what I sometimes think I should. I can't help but being nice, even when it kills me. This is the mistake I have made in the past regarding Matt. If it weren't for me, several of his past relationships would have failed in the first few weeks or months. I hate that about me. There was one particular girl, Naomi (that wretched bitch), who he was with for 2 years and almost married. Two weeks before he was to come home on leave and they were supposed to get married, she sent him a "Dear John" letter.




Thank god he wasn't yet in Iraq, he would have probably gotten himself killed on purpose. Again, I bailed him out of that one. The only reason he got by was because I was there for him 24 hours a day. I picked up the phone no matter what time it was, I talked to him or just listened to him for hours and hours, and kept reassuring him that everything was going to be alright. Then the entire time he was home on leave he spent with me.

Shortly after he finished leave, he called me and said he wanted to marry me. I told him no. I told him that he wasn't over Naomi yet and that as much as I cared about him, I had too much self respect to be a rebound girl. This went on for about a year and a half, where he would ask me and I would say that he wasn't ready for it yet. It killed me to say that. How do you say no to the one thing you want more than anything over and over again? But I couldn't do it. I didn't want him to want me because I took away the hurt and made him feel better, I wanted him to want me simply because he wanted me, if that makes any sense at all.

Predictably, he got fed up with this routine, just when I started to give in to the idea. He asked me, and I said, ask me again when you come home (which was going to be about a month later). Little did I know, he was busy getting close to this other girl (wench) that was the younger sister of a girl we had been good friends with in high school. So when he came home, he found every reason not to see me.

I was not in a good place at the time and to be honest, I wanted just a little bit of the support that I had given him since we first became friends when we were 13. It was such a terrible feeling to think that my best friend wasn't there for me when I needed him. I began to resent him like hell, especially when I found out that he had been messing around with this little twit (and I can honestly say that she was a bitch and a complete idiot. I've had the same opinion of her since long before she ever got together with Matt) and that she was the reason he was avoiding me.

We didn't speak for a month or so until he called me one day to tell me that he was probably going to get kicked out of the army (for the stupidest reason you've ever heard). Of course, whenever something hard came up, I was the first one he called. He knew he could always count on me to be there when there was trouble. Of course. So he said that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. I knew he was still seeing the wench, but he said that he didn't care about her the way she did about him, and that to him she was more of a sister, and when he came home he would tell her how he felt. Silly me, I believed him. So finally I gave in. I didn't think he was truly over Naomi, but by then I realized that he wasn't going to get any more over her than he already was.

This of course made me very happy. We started making plans to get an apartment here when he got kicked out. Everything was going good. And then he started calling and emailing me less and less. Ok, I thought, he's in the army, this has happened before. He gets busy and doesn't have the time. No big deal. My feelings are kind of hurt but I figure that I'm just overreacting. I start hanging out with Erik. I knew Erik had had a crush on me since we first met 2 years before at work. But of course I didn't care. Call it a way to be rebellious.

I keep waiting and waiting for Matt to call or email me back, and he doesn't. Or when he does, I'm not at home and he is told to call back at a certain time when I will be, but he never does. So one day I go to his myspace to leave him a message, and I see a message from another girl who I knew he was friends with saying something along the lines of "I'm just waiting for you to get home. I miss you. Love, Faith." I get pretty effing ticked off.

So I decide enough is enough. I write a rather venomous letter that I send to both of them letting her know just what kind of person he is. I did my best to direct my anger at him, not her, and said that I had no idea what kind of person she was, but that I would like to believe that she was better than the trash he usually picked.

I didn't speak to him again for about 6 months. After about a month or two, I feel bad for what I did. Never before had I crossed that line. If I had a problem with him or whatever girl he was with, I took it to him. But for some reason I just snapped. This was too much. But of course, I am too effing nice, as I already said. I emailed him about every month after that letting him know what was going on with me and apologizing for what I had done. I didn't get any response until June, when he emailed me back saying he wasn't mad at me and I was still his best friend.

I got a few emails after that talking about things going on in his relationship. I still wanted to believe that this girl was better than the others, so I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt and tried to reassure him that everything was just really tough on both of them at that time and it was probably wearing on her as much as it was on him.

Then, about a week ago, I got an email from Faith. She said she wanted to know some things about Matt that he wasn't telling her and that she really just needed to know the truth, because she was sick of his lies, and if he couldn't come clean with her then she would have to leave him. This is what prompted me to write this post. After that I called her back and we ended up talking for more than 2 hours. She is a lot better than the other girls he has picked. The problem is that she is a lot like me. And I like her. Matt always told me he wanted to find a girl just like me (why the hell not just pick me then?).

I know that reading this, he sounds like a total waste of space. And sometimes I think that he really is. On the other hand, there are tons and tons of things that make me feel like he isn't. Somehow, he has contributed to the downfall of every single relationship I have been in except one. I end up holding them up to this impossible standard of him. And it doesn't help that I seem to continually pick guys who are pretty much total losers. It's like I'm setting them up to fail before I even realize it.

I'm never going to have him. I know it. I don't know why I've led myself on for so long. Even now I am saying somewhere in the the back of my head, "maybe...", but I know it's not true. It's like an addiction. How does one stop being addicted to a person?

And I really like this girl. She is the first girl he's dated (other than me, of course :P) that was actually worth something. She has 3 kids that Matt is absolutely excellent with. I knew he would be. He adores children and has always been greath with them. He's always wanted his own. I really enjoy talking to her and look forward to meeting her. And I really am happy that he finally found someone worth keeping.

But part of me still wants to cry. Part of me wants to stop being so nice and fight tooth and nail for what I believe should be mine. I've done so much for him. I probably saved his life more than once. Shouldn't he be mine? Stupid, stupid, stupid, I know. I just wish I knew how to get over him. I've tried and thought I've succeeded so many times. Of course it seems that every time I do, he comes waltzing back and tells me that he misses me, he loves me, blah blah blah. Like I said, stupid, stupid, I'm so fucking stupid.

--Dragon

Read more!

I've Been Here Before...But Not Like This

This will likely make sense to no one.

For sorrow. There are always those secret hopes one keeps locked away in their hearts, silent and guarded for fear of ridicule or worse. The dreams that press themselves against tightly sealed lips, begging for an audience when there is none to be had. Even when you know the dreams will never be, you hold hope hostage. And you walk your line and you play the game with veiled thoughts and bitterest hope that all is not lost.

And so it goes-- for ages. Weeks, months, years even. 10 years is a long time to hope. 10 years is half a lifetime... half my lifetime. A stupid thing to wish for at any age. And then hope is lost. Reality and the hard truth shatter it, a stone through glass. You wonder how you could have been so stupid, so naive. How you could have allowed yourself to entertain such a rediculous fantasy even in the face of blatant proof that there is no chance for your dream to come true.

But hope, even shattered, is a powerful thing. And so after a while, after you push away the betrayal and searing pain that comes with dreams broken, it begins to rebuild itself. Insipid, it worms its way back into your thoughts, your dreams. At first, you don't notice. Then, when you do, you curse yourself for holding on, for allowing your desire for that one little thing to return. You become disgusted that you can't seem to shake it, no matter what you try.

And so in spite of yourself, it grows. It poisons you slowly, devouring any innocent thought or emotion, destroying any chance you have at happiness outside the dream. Every once in a while you find out something, hear it, see it, that fuels the dream. Even evidence to the contrary is explained away. Still, you tell no one. You do your best to stand in its way, even though every time you do, it kills you a little more. You are at cross purposes with it. And so every time you try to get in its way, every time you help to further the cause against it, you feel sick. You hate yourself. Yet you have no choice. You've had your chance and you missed it, why punish anyone else for your mistake? Ahh, why indeed.

Such is love, or whatever twisted caricature of it this has turned into. I wish I felt nothing at all.


--dragon Read more!

Grant Me The Serenity, The Strength, The Wisdom

I've waited some days to post this. I needed time and distance to gather my thoughts.

I have written about my troubles with Erik. About my lack of attraction to him and my ongoing frustration with his childish, selfish behavior. Well, I've finally taken care of it.

I told Erik around the beginning of June that he needed to get on the ball and find a better job, as well as getting into some kind of counseling. I gave him until the 30th, and told him if he didn't meet those requirements, he would have to leave. I also made it clear that I would help him find a place to live and give him ample time to get situated. Of course, him being Erik, he didn't even bother starting to look until the beginning of the 3rd week of June. He only applied at a few places, refusing to try fast food or gas stations (which make up about half of the jobs he is qualified to do), because he feels he is "better than that". And of course, he never even bothered to look for a counselor, instead giving me every excuse in the book as to why he shouldn't.

One morning I asked him how his job hunting and search for a counselor were going. He told me the places he had applied (and had only checked back once at a few, and hadn't checked back at all at the rest), and whined about how he shouldn't have to find a counselor and tried to turn it around to say that I thought I didn't have problems and how I was saying that everything was his fault and blah blah blah. I told him that the 30th was fast approaching and that if he failed to meet my terms, which he had agreed to, then he was going to have to leave. I had already told him if he left, my mom and brother would move in so I could have a reliable, trustworthy roommate that was going to pay their bills and help me out. As usual, he turned everything I said around and twisted to mean things that made absolutely no sense, like how it didn't matter what he did (it did) and how I had been planning this all along behind his back (I wasn't, and he knew about it from the start). Of course, he had to play the victim.

So even though I made it very clear that he did not have to leave right away, and I would help him find a place to live and was all set up before he left, he refused any kind of help and had to be a martyr, whining about how he didn't have the money (which was part of the reason I was kicking him out, duh) and I was being cruel and unfair. I hate how he always plays the victim. I hate how he always tries to make people feel sorry for him and plays me out to be some kind of monster to all of our friends and his family. I'm not. I've tried to be as nice and helpful as possible. I've tried to make sure that we stay friends, that he is included in things related to the baby, and not say or do anything to make him feel or think that any of this is his fault.

I know he is hurt and upset, but he has no right to try and guilt me or get attention by making me out to be the bad guy. Since when is making sure that I can make it and be able to provide for myself and my soon-to-be child a crime? If he won't step up and be an adult, then I can't be with him. I can't be his mommy and the baby's mommy. I don't have the time, energy, strength, or patience. He abandoned me at the midwife's office yesterday, an hour before my lamaze class (which I ended up missing, thanks to him) because he somehow got it into his head that I never loved him or cared for him at all at all and was just using him. EXCUSE ME. I did and do care about him, but I can't afford him. All he'll ever do in life is be a weight. He has no desire to change or be better or even get a decent job. How am I supposed to take care of him, take care of the wee one, go to school, and work at the same time? I'm sorry, but I am just not that good.

I am the one that got pregnant. I am the one that is going to be the primary caregiver. I am the one that is going to have to completely change my entire goals to accomodate. It takes two to tango, but apparently it only takes one to fall flat on their ass. But so what? I have to suck it up and be strong. I have no choice. There are no other options for me. He doesn't even have any goals. He could care less if he lives the rest of his life doing exactly as he is doing now. Nothing for him has really changed. In fact, having a kid was his only goal. So, mission fulfilled, I guess. And yet he's the one who sits around moping and feeling sorry for himself? He's the one who feels abandoned and used? I'm sorry, but as completely empathetic and understanding as I am trying to be, that's just a little bit of a stretch for me.

I know I'm writing this out of anger, but I refuse to take it out on him. As my mom likes to say, if all else fails, kill 'em with kindness. And so I will. It's not like I'll gain anything by doing anything else.

--dragon Read more!