I miss my person. I’ve always had a person, but she’s 3,000 miles away. That’s cool. I always had a second person…  and then I didn’t any more, and I thought it would be okay… and then Dizzle got sick… and then I took on an apprenticeship… and then my marriage went into the shitter… then one kid continued to struggle in school despite new and better efforts to help him and the other one took off, furthering the derision between them… and then life just kept happening… and I didn’t have a person, a safe person, talk to and lean on.

I don’t have a person who lives just down the street that I can call, sobbing, and she just listens… and then shows up that night or that weekend with some good booze and a movie. I don’t have a person who listens and doesn’t immediately tell me where I’m wrong, but lets me be upset before laying in to me about how I could have prevented this or made it better. I don’t have a person who can say, “Well, damn…  You fucked up this time, and I know you’re mad/hurt… So!  Let’s unfuck this!”  I’m not a child. Don’t treat me as one, even if you feel I’m acting like one. I’m a fucking grown up, and whether you think I’m handling my shit or not really isn’t your call. You don’t get to tell me I’m being a baby. Maybe I’m being a baby because right now, I can’t take ONE.MORE.FUCKING.THING. Maybe I’m being a baby because right now, no one is making sure I’m okay…  While I’m worrying about everyone else being okay, even when I’m mad at them or upset with them.


I really need a person… Not a temporary person, or a stand-in, but an honest to The Force Person. I need someone who thinks I’m worth it…  you know, just this once.


And yes, I’m wallowing.  Shut up.