Breakfast with friend: awesome
It’s not been a bad day (so far) but I had some emotional heavy lifting to do. I’ll be ok. I think. Maybe.
I hate not being able to help my friends when they’re hurting.
Another phone call, a novella in kid’s Friday folder. I’m at the end of my rope with her. I cried all the way into work over that, as well as feeling worthless and helpless and useless and unwanted.
I am so angry. I’m angry I’ve screwed up my life. I’m angry my kid has issues and the drug addicts I’ve worked with over the years who kept using while pregnant have healthy children. I’m angry her dad hasn’t bothered to check on her since her birthday, and that he’s completely off the hook for any responsibility for her. I’m angry when my niece was younger I was expected to help with her but my siblings have never watched my kid and refuse to. Granted one of them I’d never let but that’s beside the point. I’m angry I have no sex drive, exhausting dreams, and my regimen is only good for short term results. I’m angry Friday nights have become quiet.
I need to go to bed, but I’m afraid of the dreams.