Vacation from the holidays
Outwardly you see before you your Minx, as you know her. Calm, cool, collected, blonde and sexy. Winking seductively and blowing you kisses.
On the inside — or what you don’t see — is the frustrated and exhausted shell of a woman who has just HAD IT with home lives.
Of any shape or size.
Thank god I’m getting out of here soon.
At this rate, I may just go postal while I’m in the UK and disappear. Leave my former life hanging in the balance. Search for some *inner peace* to soothe my soul.
I see the collective aghast and taken aback expressions on your faces.
“Er…. b-b-but… you… wha… whi… wh….”
By which you mean, clearly: What the fuck?
The emotional rollercoaster that is my life is spinning dangerously out of control. And you wanna know something funny? Writing here is the only release I have.
Woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
If my myriad emotional issues weren’t enough to be going on with – and god knows they are – there’s also the issue of the holidays. This month, here, is national holiday month. Ample time to be stuck at home with both trolls and CH, being driven insane. Parents arrived from o/s two days ago, just to add insult to injury. I love them but whenever they’re here, CH reverts Jekyll and Hyde-like, back to how he was before.
I have days that go by when I wonder to myself “what the fuck are you doing?”. Then other days are just idyllic. And other times I don’t know who I am any more.
I promised myself that I’d really give thyis reconciliation attempt a good go, and while I can’t put a time limit on that, I gave it a minimum of a year. I’ll give it that year. If I last that long. Oy…
I just have to remember that nothing is written in stone. I have committed to trying again, but I can’t commit to succeed. If I’m unhappy then I have to be the one who changes things.
No-one else can or will.