January 6

Hah... I realized that when he's here I forget to write... because I'm busy living.

I'm completely okay with that.

Today I worked, which I wasn't supposed to, but I'm a sucker, so whatevs, and then went to get my baby! They handed me an ipad that had 10% battery left, and no, I didn't fillet anyone, but I did give them the look of ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW WITH THIS BULLSHIT and they apologized profusely. Thankfully my ipad at home was charged sufficiently so I could charge his when we got home.

Got home. JFC. Okay. So the ipad died about 5.6 minutes into the trip. NBD. He did great. I turned on the Backyardigans soundtrack and he was fine. I was super impressed. Get him home, try to get him on the toilet, he gets on the toilet, but doesn't go. Okay, fine. Dude, don't fuck with me, I know you had two cups of chocolate milk on the ride home, go pee - but whatever. He goes into the toy room to play and I go unpack the few groceries I had picked up prior to getting him. Approximately 4 minutes later, I go check on him. Door is shut. I open it. There's piss and shit everywhere and he's naked in the ball pit.

SONOFABITCH. FOUR GODDAMNED MINUTES.

I reminded myuself to breathe. I got him dressed, cleaned up the mess, kissed him, and got him a snack.

Then I emailed his therapist with a complete undertone of HOW EXACTLY AM I SUPPOSED TO FUCKING DO THIS BY MYSELF?

I'm just going to leave an email open in draft and document the weekend that way. It will be fine. We will be fine. It's 6:45 and in 15 minutes we will do meds and have a last snack and go upstairs and he can be on the ipad until he falls asleep in my bed. Tomorrow we will play in his room with the ipad and get him used to being in there and try sleeping in there tomorrow night. I know it will be slow going, but we have to try.

My heart hurts. I hate not being confident in this. I just want us to have a good night's sleep. Please, God - let us get through tonight successfully.

january 4 again

I fucking love you.

I want you to leave her and be with me.

You know you would love this life we would have together.

When we are together it's so natural and so easy and it's nothing but us loving each other.

Isn't that what it's supposed to be?

I'll wait for you.

January 4

Yesterday was hectic. Tuesdays at work are insane. I took today off. I'm exhausted.

So what did I do?

I cooked and fucked all day.

Let me explain.

I am in a relationship. It's the healthiest one I've ever been in. I am head over heels in love with my best friend. He's married. I hate it. I really dislike her. And not just because she's married to the man who should be mine, but because she treats him like shit. And he allows her to. But he escapes with me. And he loves me. And truthfully? I'm happier than I've been in years because of him, so this will continue to be. Hopefully forever, for I feel I've truly met my match.

I fiddlefucked around with some words the other day, but to be honest, what I feel for him and how his presence in my life has impacted me is kind of hard to put into words. At least eloquent word porn is difficult. Truly, describing life with him in it is not hard. I said it the other day, but he feels like home. I am content. When he is here, I feel safe. Like I'm finally with the person that God intended me to be with.

He's incredibly sexy. He has this mouth that just looking at it makes me wet. Our sex is fucking phenomenal. It's really all I think about. Well, he is really all I think about. He truly is my best friend and lover and I dread the day this ends. And who knows, maybe it won't. I know he won't leave her. There's a baby on the way. Which is interesting, because they never have sex, according to him. I have my theories, but that makes me sound like the jealous side piece. Which I guess I am. I'm insanely jealous of her. I hate that he chose her over me, that ratchet hoodrat bitch.

There. I said it. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fucking cunt. She degrades him. She takes him for granted. She treats him as property. She just wanted the status of being his wife.

Me? I just want to love him. 

We planned to both call in sick today because it had been a really long time since we had more than a few minutes in the backseat of his car. The plan was he would get up to go to work and just come over here at 6 am. Well, he texted yesterday (we text. a lot. all day. pretty much every day.) that he had an idea... he'd tell her that he needed to cover third shift and work a double so he could come here and spend the night with me. This meant SO FUCKING MUCH to me because I never get to wake up with him. My life is totally a Reba McIntyre song. But anyway, so he tells her, texts me it's Thundercats HO and I'm fucking stoked.

He gets here at about 11. We pour drinks and start watching a movie, sex, start the movie over, more drinks, sex, super sex, ridiculous sex, bed. Wake up in my love's arms. Best feeling in the world. I woke him up with a blow job. I've been waiting months to be able to do that. I made him breakfast. I baked him cookies. I made him a giant burger for lunch while he napped. Sex and sex and sex to where I feel like I've been to the gym.

Almost a perfect day, truly, except he had to email her throughout the day like he was at work.

He applied for a job at Mirror. With me. So he can see me more often. I die.

He told me he would marry me. Obviously that's not going to happen but that he can profess his love to me lights me on fire.

I love this guy. And this might be wrong to the rest of the world, but to my heart, it's so very right.

January 2

I have "Castaways" from The Backyardigans stuck in my head today. Which I guess is appropriate, since I feel stuck at work and don't want to accomplish anything.

What is also stuck in my head is that I can't stop thinking about him. He's always on my mind. Texts from him not only make me smile a smile I can feel to my toes and I know make my eyes sparkle, it stirs the fire I feel for him so much it's ridiculous.

Is this what love feels like? This magnetic pull to a person that just feels right? I described him as home to Megan yesterday because that was the only word that felt right. I think I need to get my thoughts in a certain order and try to put them in a way that makes sense. At least for me. This feels so good and so right and I feel so calm and want to explode all at the same time - you know, that feeling of build up before an orgasm? That. All the time. That's the only thing remotely parallel to what I feel when I think of him. If this is truly love, then I've never felt it before.

And I'm really fucking thankful that I'm finally feeling it, because goddamn this is lovely.

You feel like home.
That calm, comfortable warmth that can only come from one's person or that sweatshirt from college that is falling apart and you should get rid of but you can't because it has been with you through everything and nothing can soothe you in the same way.
Like I belong. For the first time in my life.
With you. Beside you.
Not under you or behind you, but in step to the same beat which is most likely our hearts.
The heat from the hearth when the flames are just right; the intensity matches what is stirred within me just by hearing your voice.
You make it so easy, this love thing.
Like it's always been, just lying dormant, waiting for the right moment to present itself.
You live in my heart.
The peace I feel when I am near you is immeasurable.
You are my port in this storm, my safe harbor.
You are my safe word.
I don't remember life before you.
It's like you've always been. Just like this love that I've had waiting to be given to the one who truly deserves it.
I choose you.
I choose this.
I love you.

January 1

This might seem pretty typical, someone starting a journal or whatever on January 1, but I just happened to feel motivated today so back off.

Heh.

I should have started this a while ago. I've had words knocking around in my brain for months, but not enough concentration or wherewithal to put them into sentences and down on paper and I'd rather type and I'm feeling frisky, so here I am.

I got this.

Bitch, you ain't even close. LOL

But here's the thing. Your goal for this year is to be able to say that phrase in all aspects of your life and mean it. From your career, to parenting, to getting and staying healthy - you're going to be able to say "I got this" and it will ring true.

2016 was such a giant shit sandwich that you were forced to nibble on throughout the year, okay - take giant fucking bites of without anything to wash it down - and this is your time.

Speaking of 2016, let's do a brief recap so we can see where we were and where we are.

At the beginning of the year, Quinn had just gotten out of his first acute stay at KVC. It was horrible. Remember? He came home right before Christmas. Tyler and his crew came home for Christmas. You hosted. You also worked. At SVW. Which was horrible. Remember? Minus the great people you worked with, it was a shit show. Fast forward to March. PRTF screen for Q. Accepted. You wait. Still in crisis. Still at SVW. Still miserable, at least with work and how you were parenting your child. You felt like you were drowning, but you had fantastic support.

You had fallen in love. You weren't about to say anything though.

May. You quit SVW on a promise of entering a private practice with more patients than they could handle. You failed. It failed. You were unemployed. On food stamps. Smoked a lot of weed. Hated yourself and the situation but had faith it would work out. It didn't.

July 17. You cracked. Deservedly so. You checked yourself into Salina Regional and stayed there for four days. Mom and Dad had Q. You didn't tell Frank or Anthony where you were. They worried. You slept and got on meds that worked for a while. You got feeling well enough to start listening to music again. You crocheted again. You read books again. It felt good.

September rolls around. You turn 40. And on your 40th birthday, you take Quinn to Lakemary Center, who will do nothing short of perform miracles with your child. I promise you, it was so worth the hurt and the uncertainty and the pain of driving away. (It didn't get easier to drive away, in case you were wondering, but seeing his progress was a salve for that wound.) You find a great job to apply for, and you do, and you're offered it! And you start! And you fail a UA, and you almost lost your job, but your skills and abilities proved themselves to your employers and they gave you a chance. You're still waiting for results from that damned drug and alcohol assessment they had you do, by the way - you might want to call on that.

Somewhere in there, the man you love decided he loves you back. And it feels so right. He feels like home to you. He's your best friend and your confidant and your partner. He loves your son. No matter what your demons tell you, trust and believe this man loves you. Hear his words and hold them in your heart and believe them. You won't want to. You'll think he's like the rest. But he's not. He's really not. Let him show you. He shows you every day. You just have to open your eyes.

The holidays this year were HARD without Quinn home, but they were still good. He had his first day pass on Christmas Eve. His first overnight on NYE, and you just took him back to LMC today. He didn't want you to go, and showed his rear end all the way up to residence. He loves you. He wants to be home. But you know he's not ready. And neither are you just yet. But you will both get there. I promise. And all the rest of the hurdles - one at a time. Use this team. You are not alone. Yes, I know. It feels that way. It feels that way down to your bones. But you're not.

(Oh, by the way, you lost almost 40 pounds this year. Get it, girl.)

So okay. Step one. Step one is simple. It's making a to do list. The list we are going to adhere to. Because it's important, and so are you.

You're going to write something every day. I don't care if it's a sentence summarizing the day or a random thought or a food journal or whatever - you're going to write.

You're going to stop eating crap and stop derailing this WOE that works for you, just because you had a shitty day and think you deserve to eat whatever you want. YOU DO, but IT HURTS WHEN YOU DO. Stop being an asshole and just eat right and have a glass of wine or a whiskey instead. JFC, quit making things so difficult.

You're going to consider that book you've always had in you.

You're going to get more sleep. No more reading until 1 AM, I don't care how good the book is. You're going to have lights out by 11 every night. Quinn will be home soon and you need all the rest you can get.

You're going to give yourself credit for the shit you accomplish.

You're going to look in the mirror and see the you TODAY, not the you 40 lbs heavier. Not the woman who was verbally beaten into nothing. Not the woman your demons tell you you are. (They're lying liars and fucking bastards and they can STFU and GTFO. You're working on that.)

You are going to take care of your mental health. You are going to keep seeing Liz. You are going to make an appointment at Valeo and tell them you're off your meds and need back on and need help staying on.

You're going to admit when you need help.

You're going to cut your parents some slack.

You're going to cut YOU some slack.

You're going to experience joy and love and express them as well.

You're going to say "I got this" and mean it.

Now go do it.