Not Crochet

I think part of the reason why I always drank so much was so that I didn't feel so much.

I made the comment the other day that I don't know how to converse with people, and it got shot down, changes to me not choosing to be able to have normal conversations. The truth is that I don't know that I ever learned. I've just become more aware of how wrong I am.

Lets be honest. My self esteem is shot. I'm living in my little brother's backroom, and he's counting the days til I move on. Don't get him wrong, he's trying to do right by me. We're just not a fit.

In any case, I'm taking up space. Not working. So, no work, no home. And, of course, no car.

I sound like a catch.

I think it's pretty understandable that I feel like I have nothing to discuss with other people. The opposite sex, potential employers, the check out people at the local library.

I'm trying really hard to not sit in this poor pitiful me place. I feel useless, and wrong, and like I am totally and utterly lost.

I'm trying to remember that I'm where I'm supposed to be, that there's a plan and a reason for everything, that everything will work out. I'm trying to keep in the front and center that the important thing is homeschooling the girls, that everything else will just have to work around it. I'm trying to do what's right.

But you know what? The jobs I'm qualified for won't support us once we move on. The government hand outs will only last so much longer. The nanny jobs I'm being offered are all really sketchy. And my room is a mess. And the kids are always fighting. And I'm sad. And I'm lonely. And I'm oh so tired of all of this.

I'll be better tomorrow. Or next week. Or next month. Better will come. I know this. I'm just done with this.