When I cut my finger open on that same damn tile in the bathroom doing the housework for the second time, what do I do?

Put a band-aid on of course!

I give up trying. I give up investing in an emotional black hole. I give up crying over spilt milk. I let go of wanting things that can't be. I refuse to continue to participate in my own invalidation.


I'm never, ever again going to sit through another bout of bigoted, hate-filled, racist, hypocritical, cringe-inducing talk and be belittled because I don't agree. They don't respect me and the incident before they left proves that to me without a doubt. 


If you have to bend yourself into a knot to try and handle things, surely that's not really a relationship at all, is it? It's more of a slow and steady decimation of your self worth.


I'm making this contract with myself today after our lunch with my parents. We are from two different planets - no, actually make that two different universes. I know that now with crystal clear clarity. There's no middle ground between us and this afternoon I finally realised that my poor soul is pretzel shaped from being the only one in this tortured triangle that was actually willing to try.

Weird dreams...

another very weird dream last night about carpet samples that I took home and wore like peasant skirts (because I was too polite to say no to the sales lady) and extra fluffy carpet decorated with clouds and flowers that shed fluff so that your pets and kids could play with the shed off fur balls (what family fun!)…This is the day after I dreamt that I was looking after two gold fish that were swimming around in the bottom of a giant plastic chick feeder when a really nasty guy came along and scooped one out (my favourite of course) and threw it down, leaving it high and dry and flapping around on the pavement for me to rescue. Then my dad drove my car into a huge ditch on the side of the road that left us all stuck at least six feet under…

Issues anyone?

*sigh*

spot the rainbow

Story here: