Man Hating Hag

I don't know where to go from here. I feel so lost.

I'm back in school, I'm job hunting...those are the easy things. But what do I do once the kids are in bed and things are dark and quiet. It's that time of the day when it feels like someone is heaping piles of dirt on top of my coffin. That sounds terribly dramatic, but really. I feel like I'm suffocating.

I've been splashing around in my Pity Pool all week. I feel bad for myself, I do. I didn't deserve this. I was a good wife. I don't deserve having to share a home with him. My children don't deserve any of it.

I live to put the kids to bed so that I can break down and get it out of the way. Then I can't wait for the sun to rise, because all I do is lay and think. When I wake up I'll be tired, and just as stressed as when I went to bed, but at least it will be light out and I'll be with the living. I don't really feel like I'm living, but it's a clever illusion when I drift about with other human beings. Happy ones. People who don't seem to have a care in the world.

If I go on Facebook one more time and read about someones bad hair day, or bad traffic during their morning commute, I may explode. That's the other part of all this...rage, anger, and being bitter. I promised myself the day that the papers were left in my screen door that I wouldn't let myself become one of those man hating hags who never finds happiness in anything because I'm stuck in the past, but this week I've been flying around on a broomstick. Everyone, and everything, sets me off.

I'm going to be meeting with my lawyer this week to prepare for court on Monday and chances are good that I will throw myself on his floor and have a fit.

I want out and I want my life back.