Sundays

A couple things:

I'm writing more or less now to not get violent (Well, that's how I feel.)

Long story short, I was away from the family for 30 minutes. At the grocery store.

A started painting C's room. He was unhappy (understatement!) that her closet is "messy." Uh, go visit other children her age. Hell, fucking look at mine.

ANYWAY: C came to me while I was putting away groceries and confided that A found a photo of B in her room. The photo book I put together for her is falling apart, so she put it safely away from her little brother in her room.

A--apparently--ripped it up and threw it away.

FUCK.

I can't even.

My mine "goal" (aside from not being violent) was to console C, of course. I asked which photo, found out it's one taken the DAY. BEFORE. HE. LEFT.

And I assured her and HAVE ordered another print.

He is in such a nasty, foul mood. He's been fine for a while, yet today...I want to take the children and go. Have your goddamn house. Yeah, it's half mine, but my fucking god. HOW could you do that to an 8 year old?? Treat me like shit, I call you on it.

He has no patience for the kids. He wants to go to a concert after they're in bed tomorrow, and I'm tempted to say, "Oh, don't bother coming back until after the concert. Like, don't come home for dinner or anything."

I'm seething, mildly put. I have to deal with this. But I need to be a TAD more rational and less likely to throw something at him.

IN BETTER NEWS:

My grad school applications are in. It was frustrating and demoralizing. "Why do I have to do this again?" is something I'm still grappling with. And it's really frustrating that Local University doesn't have a Ph.D program in what I want. The closest program that's not where I was assaulted is 2.5 hours South.

Grr....

But I plugged along, and applied. So I guess we can say alea iacta est, and if it's not to be this year, there's always next year. (I need to save up, etc.)

It's Sunday. Every Monday I've been meeting with a psychologist. I honestly pushed aside my PTSD from the only University I've attended thus far. And as I meet with him (he's awesome and believes in me waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay more than anyone should), I realize how my PTSD from SH is tangled with B becoming ill...and that it's also okay if I learn to cope, that healing may or may not be possible.

In some ways, that's rather comforting. After all, C asked me earlier this week, "Who was the best friend you've EVER had?"

I didn't have to think. It was B. And I honestly wish you all had known him, rather than known of him. We complimented and supplemented each other. He really was my other half. Even if we had just remained friends and never entered into a romantic relationship--no one has ever understood me as much as he did.

And yeah, I know. It sound like I'm living in the past, or idolizing him, or both. He had flaws!

And if I am living in the past, I'm okay with that. I still am in the present and preparing for whatever the future may bring.

And tomorrow, the future should bring a psychologist appointment and picking up new photos of C and her bio father.