I am not good today.
In about 5 minutes I have to start getting ready for work and focus on giving other people a good first-day experience.
This is going to require all of my strength, focus, and energy and I’m grateful because if I was forced to sit at home alone today I don’t think I’d be able to find the light.
Finally, after all this time I felt I was going in the right direction, things were looking up and I actually had for once a job I loved surrounded by decent humans, my kid is grown and is healthy and safe and I had a nice vacation to look forward to. Now my anxiety is beating me up and I’m exhausted.
It’s almost like the universe is reminding me I wasn’t wanted or supposed to be here in the first place and the bill for existence has come due.
These are my thoughts on top of everything else on Chadwick Boseman’s good earth that I’ve got to fight against.
I ain’t good at asking for help and especially suck at needing it.
I’ve got to think of reasons to carry on and I don’t have any that readily come to mind.
However what I said last night is true. If I survive this, and eventually feel whole and strong again I can’t be the chainsmoking, black-out drunk, rude ass bitch that got me this far because it won’t carry me further, clearly.
I thought I’d be able to peacefully careen my used up body into the grave but my body is saying nay if you do it this way it’s gonna hurt badly the rest of the time.
I’ve got enough fucking hurts.
Ima have to be some other broad if I survive, the kind of broad I find pretentious frankly, who has copious amounts of self-esteem and self-love and self-respect.
Once I get details today from the physician who is all too happy to cut me open and remove a series of body parts I came with, I’ll probably sit with it a minute, cry again surely and then come up with a detailed plan of action.
I need to get as physically healthy as I can I guess beforehand to make recovery easier, get documents together and bills paid so I won’t have to worry about that stuff, and prepare myself emotionally too to defeat yet another fucking battle that I didn’t ask for.
It is funny how every good person I know that went under the knife died and the evilest most selfish person I’ve ever met has had 3 major surgeries that I can remember and is still kicking and being just as vindictive and manipulative as a human could be. Mi Madre. And in yet another moment when I should be able to reach out to her for help, I can’t.

It’s fine.

I’m half her so if her black-hearted ass can survive well damnit I can too, I guess.
I’ll figure it out somehow…