Imagine my surprise when I opened up blogger to update and found that I was already logged in. Wouldn't be that big of an issue at home, since I use mainly Explorer and Greg refuses to use anything but Mozilla, but I'm not at home. I'm at work. While I don't think anyone here would have the balls to mess with my blog (post a cracked out entry or something along those lines), I don't like the idea that had any of them been ambitious enough, they could have read every single thing I've ever written on here. That bothers me, probably a lot more than it should. There are things on here that I haven't even told my best friends about, let alone the people I work with. I don't think anyone here really cares that much about what I do with my life, so I'm probably safe, but it weirds me out a little. Meh.

So, budgeting is a bit better, I suppose. Still scraping, but I'm not as stressed out about it as I was. Rent has been paid, other things will be paid. I'll be putting off getting a couple of things I need, but I'll survive. I have one pair of pants I can wear and I can carry my purse with only one strap, even though I feel incredibly ghetto doing that, but I can put it off until next check. The boy turns 6 soon. I need to figure out what the hell I'm gonna get him for that. We're taking him to a Tiger's game on Sept 5th, which is about a week after his actual birthday, but he has no idea. Greg wanted to get tickets ON his birthday, but I have to work the next morning. I can't see keeping him out till around midnight, just to wake him up at 530AM so I can take him to his grandmother's so I can work. At least this way, it'll still be for his birthday and we can all sleep in the next day. His great grandmother is paying for him to have a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese's. My mom paid for one when he turned 4 and he absolutely loved it and started talking about it around her, so she figured that since he was talking so adamantly about it, why not? And that's cool, she knows there is just no way I could swing that. They want to do it ON his birthday, though. Really, it's not anything horrible, I just feel a little shorted, I guess. I made arrangements to have his birthday off and I was wanting to take him to this restaurant that he likes and invite family and whatever. I mean, I wouldn't be paying for everyone, but I thought it would be nice to have all his grandparents and which ever aunts and uncles could/would come out. Now, if I still want to do that, I need to figure out a different day. I'm not gonna say anything to her about it cuzz I know it means a lot for her to be able to that for him and who knows how long she's gonna be around? Not that I'm trying to put her into her grave before she's ready to go, but you just don't know when that might happen. It'll make everyone else happy, so why not? Maybe I can get everyone together the day before? Things have always been kind of a hassle when planning the boy's birthday festivities. My family and my ex-husband's family haven't really meshed together well since he took off with the boy when he was 4 months old. The ex told his family a bunch of lies about me and my family and, at the time, they completely believed him and kept where the ex and the boy were a secret from me. That was three days of sheer fucking hell. Both families have since realized all the lies that were told by the ex and really don't know if anything he ever said could be believed, but the bad blood between the two families is still there. To be fair to both families, they've always made an effort to not let the boy see the ill feelings, but he can sense tension better than cats can see in the dark.

I'm starting to hole myself up again. I have no idea why. I'm still having problems sleeping, though TylenolPM has helped me with that, as well as taking an edge off some of the pain I'm in. I take 4 every night just so I can sleep. I've told 2 doctors that now, and yet neither one will give me anything for pain. Heh. The new doctor, the OB-GYN, is more than likely going to recommend I have more surgery. He seems to think that the problems I'm having aren't PCOS after all. I think he's leaning towards endometriosis, due to the family history of that, but I've never shown any scar tissue or anything to really suggest it, other than the pain and the cracked out girlie times. Nothing has shown up on the ultrasounds, which I guess my last one looked completely normal, and there was nothing to indicate that in the laprascopy I had. He had me sign a records release so he could get the report from that surgery and that's cool. Maybe there was something on it that the other doctor just missed or something. Most likely, though, I'll be having another laprascopy done. Hooray exploratory surgery.

I'm trying to plan a trip to New York for October. I've told Greg about it and he remembers that when we first met, I was planning this same trip, so he knows who I'll be staying with and all that. He seems pretty disinterested. I'm really hoping I can go this time. I've been trying for damned near two years. I should have all my time in by then to be able to use my PTO time, so that'll work out nicely. I earn more PTO every hour I work, so it won't be that hard to build back up.

I've come to the conclusion that Greg doesn't know me. And that he doesn't really care to. I try to tell him things and I feel like I'm bothering him. When I tell him things like how I feel like I need to go out somewhere and sing or how I much I miss doing theater, he just kind of shrugs or stared blankly at something. He never tells me I should try and do it again. He never tells me that he'll take me out so I can do some random karaoke, which, ok, it's karaoke, but I'd still be singing and that's as close as I can get right now. He never goes out with me to see bands. He tells me the music I like is "gay" or some other random term he decides to throw out. When I'm watching something on TV, he gets a hair up his ass about "needing to listen to a song". Ok, go ahead. He then will play whatever song it is over what I'm trying to watch, which just happens to bug the living shit outta me. When I turn of the TV, he always asks me why, like every other time I've told him that it bothers me never happened. Then he gets pouty and will either plug in the headphones or go out to his car to listen. When he goes out to his car, I always have to go out there and ask him to turn it down some cuzz I can hear it inside. He tells me he loves certain foods and when I make them, he refuses to eat or he'll make something else. He tries to get after me, saying that I should be fine eating just once a day, never bothering to remember that when I don't eat at least three times in a day, I tend to pass out. You'd think that after he witnessed me passing out after darts one night and hitting my head hard enough on the floor to draw the attention of people a pretty good distance away, that he'd remember. He tells me that I must not have anything worth while to do since I spend a lot of time on the computer. He never seems to remember that I work 12 hour shifts, constantly in front of the computer, which is when I do a good majority of anything computer related. He likes to tell me that if I would just exercise all the time and drink a gallon of water a day, I'd lose weight. He never bothers to think about all the research he did into PCOS and how weight loss can be almost impossible. When I tell him I'm going to the doctor to see what can be done to help me either handle my symptoms better or get rid of them completely, he tells me I shouldn't see an MD, but a doctor who specializes in natural remedies. He likes to tell me that MDs are full of shit and they'd rather prescribe pills than find out what's really wrong. He never bothers to remember when I tell him I have no prescriptions to fill. He likes to forward me things telling me that something I know is right is, in fact, wrong according to whichever site has decided to put up something that differs from fact. He likes to tell me how the church says this, that and the other thing and if people don't believe that then they're going to Hell. I'm going to Hell.

I've pointed out so many things that are negative. It probably seems that everything is just one big downer with Greg and I. Truth is, not everything is bad. He makes me laugh. He loves my hair. He tells me that he feels like he was made just for me when we have sex. He loves my cats. My son adores him. There are a lot of really good things. And, though it may not seem like it, he treats me better than anyone ever has. But, I'm still lonely. I'm still upset. I still feel like crying at the drop of a hat. I find myself analyzing just how much would be different if he weren't there and rationalizing that it would be easier if he weren't there.

I still feel empty.

And I can't figure out why.

Blarg.

Yeah, that's pretty much it.

Blarg.

Ok, so there's more than blarg. Really, I put that out there to kind of deflect the fact that I am incredibly pissed off. I'm listening to Quick Kill Formula to help ease some of the anger, but I don't think it's helping today. I'm not sure if it's just due to me being very moody right now or what. I'm pissed off at myself. I'm pissed of at Matt. I'm pissed off at Greg. Mostly, I'm pissed off at myself, though.

I am flat broke. I have zero in my bank account. I have just about $1 on my child support card.

I don't get paid until Thursday.

I need groceries. I need laundry crap. I need gas.

I have no way to obtain any of those things I need.

I'm pissed off at myself for letting myself get into this situation yet again. I'm pissed off at myself for feeling like I need to bail Greg out when he fucks up and doesn't have enough money to get gas to go to and from work. When he spends his gas money on pizza and fucking beer. I'm pissed off at myself for failing to see that I was falling into the same cycle I was in with my ex-husband, mainly due to the fact that Greg loves to work, whereas the ex did everything he could NOT to work. I am pissed off at myself for getting behind on the electric bill this winter and not being able to get it back into good standing, some 6 or 7 months later. I'm pissed off at myself for not being able to survive on my own if Greg were to go. I'm pissed off at myself for being 26 fucking years old and still needing to ask for help.

I shouldn't need to ask for fucking help anymore.

I'm pissed off at Greg for being an idiot with his money. For not realizing that everytime he bails on bills, he's making me slowly develop an angry kind of loathing towards him, even though I tell him that I can't handle that kind of shit. I'm pissed off at Greg for ignoring me when I tell him I need him to be able to pay the fucking rent. I'm pissed off at Greg for not having the rent money for the third fucking month in a row. I'm pissed off at Greg for tuning me out when I tell him I need him to get his fucking head on straight. For tuning me out when I tell him he needs to either curb his fucking drinking or just quit all together. I'm pissed off at Greg for always telling me about how he reads that beer has minerals and vitamins, so it's good for him, like I'm a fucking idiot. I'm pissed off at Greg for obviously deciding that the fact that I've told him repeatedly that I will NOT allow my son to be raised by an alcoholic step-father, as I was, is not something he needs to be bothered with. I'm pissed off at Greg for acting oblivious when I get upset, like I've never told him any of the issues I have with the way he spends money, the way he drinks, etc. I'm pissed off at Greg for making me feel like an asshole for falling in love with someone who puts so little into everything, while at the same time expecting me to put everything into our survival.

I'm pissed off at Greg for being Greg.

I'm pissed off at Matt for being a fucking worthless father. For being so spiteful that I will now have to fight him in court to obtain full custody of my son, who he brushes off every chance he gets. I'm pissed off at Matt for lying to me time and time again. For offering to help me pay off the lawsuit his grandparents brought against me and allowing me to think that maybe, just maybe, he had finally pulled his head out his ass long enough to see what a fucking hole he put me in while we were married. I'm pissed off at Matt for telling me he realized what an asshole he was while we were married and that he wanted to make things right as much as he could (financially) and then taking it all back once his ex-fiance took him back for the umpteenth time. I'm pissed off at Matt for making my son sleep on the floor, while Dannette's kids each have beds. For making him sleep on the floor cuzz they always have someone else over sleeping on the couch. I'm pissed off at Matt for not letting my son take a bath when he's there. I'm pissed off at Matt for asking his parents and/or grandparents to keep my son every weekend, with out fail. I'm pissed off at Matt for using my son to get back at his parents for all the shit he went through as a child. I'm pissed off at Matt for making my son ask me why he can't see daddy. I'm pissed off at Matt for allowing pussy to control his life. I'm pissed off at Matt for being so fucking co-dependent that he makes my son cry. I'm pissed off at Matt for not just allowing me to have full custody.

I'm jealous of Matt for getting a house. I'm pissed off at Matt for giving her everything he had always promised to give to me.

I'm glad that Greg's working the night shift tonight. This will give me some time to myself. Maybe I'll write or something. Most likely, I'll sit there wishing I had the money to get a fucking fifth and a carton of cigarettes. I want to just drink everything away, for just one night. I want to escape everything, for just one night. I want to pretend that I've made it and I don't need to ask my family to help me support everyone.




Really, I just wish I could escape it all.

Just for a little bit.

I'm so fucking sick of all of this...