and so I will write

One of my neighbors, here in the pink apartment complex, was very brave tonight. She totally beat me to The Publish and I could just let her win and be fine with that, but I'm feeling a little like the salve of writing is needed in my heart.

A lot has happened for me in the months since July. Really, very little has been more difficult than it would have been if he had stayed. I've proven an awful lot to myself about myself. I've learned more about me than I already knew and I'm excited about what else I have yet to discover. I've embraced confidence in a new way. I've shed off feelings of guilt and paranoia. I've started to work out and I'm even able to take less of my medication.

But then, I hit a wall. It started right after the first of the year and it's all centered around my job. The job. The reason we moved here in the first place. I'm a committed employee, but after the last 3 weeks, I feel an awful lot like being committed. And I'm angry. I'm angry about so many things.

I'm angry at my employer for laying on the guilt with just the right words that I had no choice but to go. I'm angry that in my own defense of myself and my time with the kids, I didn't stand up for me when the chips were thrown across the table with the blame squarely pointed at me. I'm angry that I let myself get so tired. I'm angry that my house was such a disaster when I'd arrive home every night after 4 hours of driving and 10 hours of working. I'm angry that for all the things that went wrong, the product issues weren't new but had rather been issues I'd reported months and months ago which were rejected by the snobby developers who "didn't think it (was) a priority". I'm angry that I was told at least 3 different times that "today would be my last day on site" and that it just never turned out that way. I'm angry that people would assume that I drove 4 hours a day for my own profit.

Then I get to the real dark place - where I realize that all that pointed anger really comes right back into my own heart. It's here that I realize that I'm angry, most of all, with myself.

I'm angry at myself for being angry about the messy house. My daughter was amazing and went FAR and ABOVE the norm. She kept her brothers safe and fed them in my absence. She was understanding and even gave up opportunities for herself because of me and my stupid job. How dare I be angry at her, at them, for not cleaning up.

At the very same moment, I'm angry at myself for not being a harder mom. For not making shorty pick his shit up, every damn day. For letting him play in the garage and undo the exhaustive work I've put into getting it cleaned up.

Here's a strange place for my anger, but inevitably it goes here. I'm angry that his dad was the exact same, disrespectful, slob that he is. I'm angry that I put up with it. That I'd enabled it for so long. I'm angry that I let myself be bossed around and disrespected and hollered at and reprimanded in front of the children. I'm angry that I didn't stand my ground with him about the sorts of television he would expose the kids to or the places he'd traverse on the internet.

And then, I realize that I'm angry at him, for of all things, leaving.

How dare I? I asked him to go. Damnit though? I didn't say go 3000 miles away. My recommendation was for him to get work here, find an apartment, and live. I selfishly realize that had he done what I wanted him to do, then the last 3 weeks wouldn't have been so hard on my daughter or on me. Because he would have been here to parent. Well, not here in my house, but not nowhere.

That gets my head a'spinnin' and that's not good for anyone. That, my friends, is why I write. I'm hoping that in the coming days, maybe weeks, I'll be able to get more out. To find myself feeling through some of this doubt and anger. I'm hoping to redecorate the walls of my heart with peace that will last for a while. I'm hoping to find myself in a place that embraces all of the changes I've made over the last year and yearns to keep on growing.

I like me. It's been a long time since I've really felt like saying that was the truth. Anger has a strange way of sneaking in and getting comfortable on the love seat. I don't want to let Anger move in on my new me and try to twist the truths of myself that I now know and love.