Thank God for anti-depressants
12:12 p.m. - 2006-01-13

Alan's gone. He's six hours away, and won't be home for two weeks.

My brother's in jail.

My car's in the shop.

Ali's sick from the vaccinations that I caved and gave her yesterday.

My morning began with a phone call from my mother that left me kneeling on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I'm to blame for all the problems in their lives, evidently, even though I didn't have a fucking thing to do with ANYTHING. I hope like hell that they're content with their son, because they're just before losing their daughter forever.

I never want to see my father again.

I'd like to say more. I'd like to spill my guts here, spew forth the venom that's flooding my brain, but I'm not going to. I'm grateful for a few amazing friends, who have been here through it all, doing their best to keep me from slipping right over the edge.

And I guess it's good that I have a perfect model of what a parent is not.

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I am: so very many things. A mother, a wife, a dreamer, a lover of animals and babies, a friend. I've been called a bitch, but if that's what you call someone who stands up for what they believe in and refuses to settle, then I guess the title fits.

loves: my family, horses, a full night's sleep, puppy breath, my daughter's laughter, thunderstorms, bubble baths, makeup, soft sheets, David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs, wine, massages, the written word, and sour straws.

dislikes: closed minds, depression, pimples, extreme heat, math, panic attacks, black licorice, doing laundry, white chocolate, gin, Bush.