I am not quite sure what is going on, but I feel like I quit taking Pristiq or something (I didn't). Hotter got annoyed with me last night; he wasn't even out of line really, but I got this jolt of adrenaline that wouldn't go away even after walking three nine-minute miles and then fell the fuck apart and told him I was done. I don't know if I'm just tired of trying to hold everything together, to the point that I'd rather ship Hotter back to his mom, let the XY take the kids from me, and go die under a bridge somewhere and have it OVER with so I can quit dreading it, or maybe I'm not sleeping enough, or it's hormonal...I don't fucking know. Hotter has every right to be disgusted with me today, hell, *I* am. I'm just sick and tired of not being able to get his eye fixed or buy a new lawnmowerso Trashcan Neighbor shuts her yap, and feel like maybe Hotter and the kids and the world would be better off without me, and it sucks. If I had health insurance I'd go see my psychiatrist and ask him for his two cents, but I don't. Maybe losing my job, changing career fields, AGAIN, Hotter losing his fucking mind on me a couple of weeks ago, having something go horribly wrong in my belly, my ex acting more of the fool than usual, AND the daily death by a thousand cuts of flogging an un-airconditioned car that doesn't idle to and from work in the summer heat is collectively too fucking much and this is what anyone would be doing? I don't know. I hate it, though. I'm eating. I'm sleeping. I'm exercising daily. It's not helping.
I would very much like a vacation from being me, or really a vacation of any kind.