I'm Crying Because I'm Angry!

I "only" work part-time. I work twenty hours one week, twenty-four the next. I have at least a forty minute commute each way. I leave for work about twenty minutes before my daughter's bus comes to take her to school, and get home a little more than two hours before she does, if I don't have errands to run after work.

I am lower management at my company, but again, only part-time. This means that if I want to provide my daughter with certain things, I need financial help. This also means I need to figure out what the hell to do with her in the summer when she's not at school but I'm at work.

So I applied for financial aid through the local YMCA.

And I was given a 60% reduction in costs for all programs EXCEPT summer camp. Unless I applied for and was either accepted or denied help from a local child care subsidy organisation. But I don't work enough hours (and can't work enough at the job I have) to qualify for their regular support, and don't know if they are getting the summer camp subsidy again this year.

I spent two hours this afternoon crafting a 24 page application for a subsidy I won't get, so the YMCA can tell me if I can get a reduced cost on summer camp.

Oh and 60% off still means at least $1,000.00 this summer for camp.

And the best part of all of this is that I am supposed to claim child support for all these applications, but my ex-husband is literally on the run, camping in Florida, so he doesn't have to pay. His assets have been frozen (but there aren't any) and now there's an order to seize assets, but he's gone. He hasn't contacted his daughter in over a month and yet I get penalized because there's an order of support.

How much support? Five hundred dollars a month.

He's given up his child, for five hundred dollars a month.

And I can't get her into summer camp.

This is my divorced life. Sometimes, I really fucking hate it.

So in the midst of this long as hell application writing, I vented to my father and there were tears. He barks at me "Why are you crying?" because any time I do he gets mad.

I'm crying because I'm angry. I am fucking pissed that every single time I have to fill out one of these fucking applications I have to explain, again, that my child's father has forsaken her. Has given her up so he can find "his healthy path" living like a feral animal in the wilds of Florida.

I'm crying because I hold it together every single day and wonder if I will ever find a partner who loves me in spite of this shadow of filth that hangs over me and makes me crazy.

I'm crying because I want to love and be loved and I have a beautiful daughter who is on Adderall and Prozac in the first grade.

I'm crying because you're my Daddy and I should be able to cry to you when I'm overwhelmed.

I managed to say some of that out loud and quench the tears before they really started and he seemed to get it. But who knows.

I shouldn't cry.

My Body is Not Yours

"I still care for you."

Another text from my ex-not-boyfriend.

I had asked that he take a picture of me down from a social media site and that started yet another back and forth text conversation that resulted in it being even more clear that I'm not a person to him.

His version of care boils down to "I liked having sex with you, but only in ways that suit my needs and only on my time."

I don't have the time or energy for that shit.

I'm not looking for Prince Charming. I'm not even looking for monogamy. But when someone says they care for me, they should actually mean they care for ME, not just what I can do for them.

Obligatory "Year in Review"

I suck at the holidays.

I look toward Thanksgiving with trepidation, Christmas with dread, and the New Year with inevitability.

I have a six-year-old Wildflower Child who LOVES the holidays and therefore, I have to keep my shit together so she continues to love the holidays. Even though all the sugar and late nights and stimulation made her into a possessed demon from hell that I didn't recognize, I still want her to have fond memories (hopefully not including being physically removed from Christmas celebrations at a family member's house for throwing a tantrum after mis-reading gift tags).

Anyway, the holidays have passed and now people are talking about the New Year coming and the old year past and what was great and what was pure torture and I started to think about how much I have gotten through this year.

2015 started out with reconnecting with someone deeply important to me which has been such a joy to have back in my life.

I tried out some interesting dating scenarios that ultimately revealed my new found ability to sniff out a total asshole before marrying him (that was never on the table, just saying, I'm getting quicker at the realization of douchebaggery). I also learned some things about a subculture that claims to be quite egalitarian and is in truth unbelievably sexist. There might be an essay in that at some point.

I had two almost cancer scares. Breast and uterine. I had a battery of incredibly invasive tests, some of which were very painful. All of which resulted in many lost hours of sleep. I was also tested for virtually every tick borne disease, diabetes and thyroid function. Twice. 'Cause you know, apparently I'm perfectly healthy for feeling like shit. Good thing I don't have any problem getting blood drawn, except for my tiny veins and low blood pressure.

I got more tattoos, and tattoos I had already have been touched up.

Gave up my lip stud.

Got my mother addicted to Doctor Who.

Decided Peter Capaldi is just killing it as the Doctor and am collecting his costume pieces. Because, #Geek.

I had a total laparoscopic hysterectomy. I still have my ovaries, but my vagina ends where my cervix used to be, and all my abdominal organs got shifted around a bit. So I had to stop corset training for a while and now I have to work back to where I was, and I also have to exercise more.

Started investigating the probability that Wildflower Child has ADHD.

Gave up on dating for now at least.

Adopted a dog!

Got said dog allergy testing and shots, and TWO orthopedic knee braces.

Cuddled my child and my dog a lot, but not enough.

Watched "Jessica Jones" on Netflix all the way through, twice.

Spent a week in Wildwood NJ. (This list isn't even remotely in order.)

Bought two cool niche card games and have no one to play them with.

Spent way too much money on makeup. And don't feel at all badly about that.

Started growing my hair out.

Did not figure out what I want to do with my life.

So that was 2015. Will be interesting to see what happens in 2016.

You Should Get Out More

My father, who I live with, has been expressing that I should be getting out more. I haven't dated since I broke up with my last (non)boy-friend and definitely haven't seen anyone or gone out since my surgery in November. But honestly, why should I?

For the last several months I've been trying to work with the Wildflower Child's school to address the signs of Attention Deficit type issues. I've also been trying to get in contact with a physician or pediatrician who can help me develop a therapy plan to give her the tools to succeed.

This is not easy. In fact, it is exhausting. I feel frustrated at every single turn. Constantly put off and given vague ideas of who I should contact and what I should expect. Which is nothing happening quickly.

I had tried to contact a doctor at my clinic for two months. He finally contacted me yesterday and basically just said I should try medications because they are wonderful. He has never met or treated my daughter, asked about four questions and decided drugs were the answer.

My daughter is not violent or self-injurious. She is impulsive, but not scarily so, she is sensitive and can run high with her emotions and she has difficulty attending to routine or instructions. She is also doing well academically, but struggling with assessment tests because they are timed. She is six-years-old. Drugs should not be the first step. Therapy and support plans, that's the first step. So fuck you sincerely Doctor.

Then the group I had contacted doesn't take my insurance. But they recommended other doctors and I couldn't get in touch with the first one I tried to contact and after three attempts I had enough for the day.

So why should I go out when I have my hands full at home?

And then there is the whole I had a hysterectomy and my vagina got restructured when my cervix was removed. So basically, I am not interested in just jumping into bed with anyone who is available. I'm scared about restarting intimacy. And there are a precious few people I would even consider it with and of course, not available at this time.

So let's call this my second virginity, and it isn't going anywhere any time soon.

So again, why should I go out?

What I need is sleep and time and support. Not dates or parties.

Love, Loss and Late Nights

I feel like I'm failing as a mother. My daughter can be unfocused and inattentive, impulsive and defiant at school, and at home, and her teachers think she has ADD. I've been wracking my brain and working with my step-mother and aunt for suggestions on behavior modification to help her stay more focused and work on getting positive attention rather than negative. But all I ever hear from the school is when she's not doing well.

I have such a short period of time between now and my surgery, and she has a medical appointment as well next Thursday and I'm feeling so crunched for time to "fix it" before my beautiful, funny, exuberant, exasperating, weirdo of a daughter gets labelled and given up upon. I love her with every fiber of my being and I cannot allow her to become the failure that her father is, and that I avoid by the skin of my teeth.

I'm so afraid, still, of trying anything, of change. So I focus on the things going on right now to the exclusion of everything else.

I just want her to be better than I am.

And my best friend had to euthanize his dog today and I can't stop crying and it doesn't seem like it should hurt this much but it does because it all hurts right now. And why did I ask to have "depression" removed from my medical chart when damnit, I'm not okay.

And my fucking ex-husband is traipsing around California on an extended vacation and not paying child support while I'm facing at least two weeks off and holiday time I don't have covered so Christmas is going to be tight this year. Especially since my car is making a funny noise, and I have to get the radiator flushed for winter.

I need a hug. But the only person who really hugs me lately is small and asleep and gets up early for school and I shouldn't wake her. But I really want to wake her up and make hot chocolate and watch movies under a blanket. But that would really not be being a good mother would it?

Real Woman

That jerk I was dating tried to argue with me that Trans-women aren't real women because they can never have children.

Besides that being a totally bullshit and close-minded argument, there are plenty of cisgendered women who can't have children.

Soon I will be one of them. November 9th, 2015 actually. At around 8:00am.

I am scheduled for a total hysterectomy, to be performed laparoscopically. I will keep my ovaries so as to avoid menopause and because they aren't the problem. Everything else goes. Uterus, cervix, Fallopian tubes. My doctor says that I shouldn't have any problems maintaining sexual function after recovery. Just in case I get to have sex any time in the future.

So why, you ask, am I having this procedure done at the tender age of 40? Because I can't stop bleeding. I've been bleeding more and more regularly no matter what medications I'm on, for the last two years. And at this point, I've been bleeding steadily since September 12th. It is hell.

I've wondered if there will be an imperceptible sign, some subliminal signal to the people around me that I'm no longer "Mother" and now I will have flipped over to "Crone" in the blink of an eye. Will I be somehow weaker or maybe stronger with the lack of a womb? I don't know.

I'm scared. I'm terrified of anesthesia and narcotic medication. I'm afraid of hurting in the way that surgery hurts. I'm afraid of something going horribly wrong.

The most of me believes all will be well. The bit of me is scared witless.

Cross fingers for me. Please.


I am guessing I am no longer "officially" a home owner.

The house in Bethlehem PA that I left in January of 2014 when I left my husband, was scheduled for auction at 1pm today because the mortgage had not been paid in years. Since long before I left, although I didn't know that at the time.

I actually feel sorry for whoever buys the house due to the state it was left in.

I am sad for all the energy and memories and things that were left there. I am sad for the destruction and filth. I am sad.

But I know that will pass. My credit will start to improve. My life has started to improve. My daughter's future is improving.

He accused me of abandoning everything. Just because I left, I wasn't the one abandoning, I was the one preserving myself and my daughter.


Or not.

Auction postponed to November 6th. *sigh*