Sometimes my life hurts my feelings.

Feelings are like hemorrhoids.  All my insides are hanging out.  And the second they're exposed I begin to wonder how they got there...how I got into the situation I'm in that led me here...and how I got into the situation that led me to the previous one...all the while my insides are hanging out and I'm wondering how to put them back in where they're supposed to go without damaging anything around them.

If you've never met someone who seems to be BPD don't do it.  And if you've never had children with someone with this personality disorder don't do that either.  It's one of those situations that nags at me constantly...what was I thinking...what if my kids have this disorder...am I going to be weighed down by these perceived "issues", made up by the infected, that aren't even realistic...for the rest of my life?

Because if I live to be 100 that's a long time.  And I don't know if I can subject my brain to this for 71 more years.  I have to do the robot every day in order for it not to effect me.  But at night when I'm alone and disconnected it effects me and I feel sad for me and these kids.

Four's a lot.  I don't feel like Supermom anymore.  I feel super fucked up.  And already I can't find a job that fits into the schedule where I have a sitter.

I'm sick of crying.

Stella smiled at me.  She laughs too.

I have really cute kids.

I've got the blues.

I don't have time to feel like this, I've got too many kids.  But I feel it alright.  There isn't a room in my house unoccupied by a child so I went in the basement while having a meltdown.  And I melted down right into a laundry basket with clothes in it.  Then I opened the dryer and contemplated hiding in it...then laughed at myself because...I just had baby #4 and I'm so small I could fit in a dryer...what the??  I'm hurting.  I forgot how hard it was to just give birth to a baby and watch your ex move on less than a week after.  And this one rubs it in my face...well that and not wanting to be a dad anymore and blaming THAT on me too.

Every little thing is weighing me down.  Even the lady at the WIC office made me cry because she asked, "what do you mean you don't have anyone who supports your decision to nurse?"  Like, hey lady, this is my 4th kid, no one's fucking happy about that - do you think they give a shit about how it's going to eat?  Instead, I just looked at her and smiled because that's what I do.

Stupid hormones.  Just fucking stupid.  So is swearing.

"Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?" ~Rose Kennedy