Here There Be Dragons

I am trying to let go of some anger right now, because it is making me physically ill; I've had a headache since Wednesday, my neck is seizing up, my stomach is roiling, and worst of all I am short-tempered with Bird, who deserves better.

I took him with me last night because he didn't deserve to be cloistered with Mad Mommy in Casa de Crazy all night. This evening we went out so he could play with a friend, because I didn't want to sit at home and snap at him until I got so pissed off I wanted to lock him in his room just for being a normal, healthy, active little kid.

I don't feel like explaining why I'm angry. Honestly, I started to - it got long. I mean, even for me, it was too freakin' long, and y'all know I'm all about some War and Peace type entries. It got personal, and it got hurtful, and I was just getting angrier, and I decided it just wasn't worth the effort.

So now I'm writing this instead. Really, we're all better off. Well, maybe not me - I still feel like shit.

I am seriously considering taking my kid, selling the one thing of monetary value I have besides my van (the family heirloom diamond engagement ring that my mother wore and passed on to me, the stone for which one of my ancestors dug up from an Egyptian tomb a bazillion years ago and had cut at Tiffany's - OK, long story I'll tell later), and going on a two week cruise where he's in child-care all day having fun with camp counselors and other kids and I sit on the deck and drink stuff I can't pronounce but that makes my face go numb, flirting unsuccessfully with bartenders, cabana boys, and anyone who doesn't run away in abject fear - all without a cell phone and without telling anyone exactly where we've gone or when we'll be back because I just don't think they'd miss us or even notice we'd gone. Maybe Mum would like to come along - after all, I'd be hocking her ring, it's only fair I buy her a ticket, too.

Oh, hells, I went long anyway.

I will end (at last!!) with this - it is difficult enough to go through life on the balance beam that is mental illness without having to dodge (figurative) wrenches flung at my (figurative) head by someone who should know very well what they're doing and either hasn't grasped it yet or just doesn't care...either of which means I am not worth the effort, which just brings me back to why I'm pissed off and don't need to write any more tonight.

Right now? Here there be things that even dragons fear.