She finally succumbed.

There will be a long discussion between Indigo, Practical Responsible, and True Blue Me about the shit those two are putting me through and why I'm still in love with Wolf but also in love with SLB and sooner or later Wolf is going to have to let go or be released because I can't live in the past, that's begging for trouble, and while the idea of getting married again is enough to trigger heart palpitations NOW doesn't mean it will LATER while at the same time trying not to let vodka become That Thing I Go To When I Can't Sleep or move from scratching my arms to actually cutting my arms, because that will more then likely require a Severe Talking To if not actual hospitalization for being a Danger To Self and I simply cannot afford that at this time.

For now, it's Diablo 2, Lord of Destruction so my paladin can go bash heads in, and probably hard cider later while SLB and a few friends play MtG in the dining room. My computer is now upstairs in the bedroom. It's isolating but at the same time nice and quiet.

The children are out of my hair for the weekend. Thank the gods.

That's right about where I feel I am. Functioning while in Indigo. There are Things To Be Done, so I do them, even while wondering why I bother. It doesn't matter. Not really.

Am I sounding like Hyperbole and a Half yet?

I'm tired. I'm Indigo. I'm angry. I have a party to go to tomorrow. We're going to the lake house Saturday for the weekend. I will have company next weekend.

These are good things. So why do I feel so ambivalent?

Oh, right. Depression.

IDK has his counselor appointment today. I should probably ask if they can fit me in too, now that I have health insurance again.

I'm hungry. I guess I should eat something. Then I can go upstairs and read "Lone Wolf and Cub" while IDK does...whatever.

On a completely different note, Izzy the kitty has been spotted several times. She went from the ritual room to the pots and pans cupboard to under the big green comfy couch, to Cuteness' bed and back down. She's used her litter box and eaten a treat or two. SNB is persistent. I will continue to leave her alone and sneeze and have itchy eyes. I'll adjust eventually. It's what I do. Adjust, adapt, persevere.

Why isn't that enough?

I know I need to purge, to go through the catharsis of processing and accepting the feelings of betrayal and anger and resentment. But I really don't know how.

I would love to call someone who saw what I went through and bitch for a while, but the only person I still talk to is Maternal Unit and, well, she's part of the problem. She betrayed me during the divorce process, going on and on about how she was right and I should have listened to her and see? I told you so! Gods, I heard that for a solid WEEK after I moved back in with them. Not by choice, believe me. The friend I had ran to didn't want to deal with me and mine and since she was the only friend I had at the time, my only other choice was a shelter and I didn't want to be homeless with an infant. So I went back to my parents. Who informed me that they were still going to Disney World with my brother, as they had been planning the trip for a year, and thanks for being free house sitting, don't find work until we get back and oh yes, no boys.

I am not kidding. No Boys. I was 21 and had a six month old son. No Boys.

Gods, it still pisses me off. I wasn't some stupid teenager who got knocked up by her boyfriend. I did everything right. I got married. I got pregnant six months after the wedding. I even followed the stupid rhythm method, with the addition of condoms. I was a good little Catholic girl and what did it get me? Divorced and with a child. A child I ran with because my husband threatened to shake him. SHAKE HIM.

It doesn't help that I married in full but denied knowledge I was making a mistake. I had the naive hope that the abusiveness I had already seen and my mother kept pointing out to me could be fixed. Hells, I tried to break the engagement TWICE and he still talked me back into it. I wanted out of my mother's influence and didn't have the money to support myself, but a married couple could afford an apartment. I remember sitting on those damned steps to the cathedral's basement hall, my heart pounding, seeking reassurance that my fears were unfounded and this relationship would magically work out by the Power of Love.

I didn't trust him. Less then a year into the marriage, I'm walking up the stairs to our apartment behind him, four months pregnant, and wishing he would just turn around and punch me so I could then turn around and leave. I had been shouted at and ignored and threatened with violence, but that wasn't enough justification for me to pack up and leave. I needed physical proof so I could go "See? This is what he did. This is why I left." If he had hit me, maybe my mother would be a little more sympathetic and help me instead of insult me and crow from her high moral ground. For a little while I even considered putting IDK up for adoption after he was born because we were poor, but not poor enough for state aid. (CO has one of the lowest sales taxes of the country, which is great for business but lousy for public works like busses, DMVs and welfare. I will never complain about NY taxes!)

So. I was betrayed by my husband, who wasn't interested in changing his abusive ways and I was betrayed by my mother, who insisted on keeping track of what she spent on IDK when I wasn't working (CO job market SUCKED, I kept getting temp jobs that only lasted a few months) so I could pay her back. She's the grandmother and she wants me to pay her back for food, diapers and clothes because, hey, she's not charging rent and oh yes, make sure you do your fair share of chores around the house. And no, she's not going to babysit at the drop of a hat, you make an appointment and be home before midnight and don't use the phone after ten pm in case your father needs to call from his night shift.

I think my mother's behavior hurt more the the ex husband's. There was no sympathy, no hugs and whispered "I'm sorry you went through that, good for you for getting out before someone got hurt". It was all "I told you so" and "Now that you're living with us, young lady, you will abide by these rules." Rules that were reasonable for a high school student, not so much for a 20something who was trying to put her life back together.

I still haven't forgiven her for those six months I lived there. I didn't leave under good circumstances, she wanted 30 days notice and I gave her two and asked that they pack up my stuff because I was working and wouldn't have the time. I moved into a bachelor house and caused all kinds of problems that weren't resolved until I left, which was only a few months, as I was waiting for tax return money. It was during that time that my Camelot happened and I was shunned by EVERYONE in that social circle for destroying a 20+ year old friendship. To this day I cannot stand to watch any version of Arthur, Gwenavere(or however it's spelled), Merlin and Lancelot. I have had an entire room of people literally turn their backs on me. That is a powerful, humbling experience.

I still haven't forgiven the ex for his continued betrayal by going underground and not paying child support for a grand total of about 7 years, give or take a few months. He pissed off the judge and got hit with a massive amount. That was reduced by half last year because he had been out of work for a while and I was still at the shop and making good money. I was a little upset, but I didn't contest the decision. I did and continue to see child support as an unexpected blessing. I never count on it because he was so unreliable for the first nine years.

Well, okay. Now I've bitched. This really doesn't help much. The emotions are waiting to be expressed. Maybe I will have a good cry in SNB's arms.

In the meantime, I'm going to play more Starcraft. I'm into the third or fourth mission of the Protoss segment. I hate the Protoss. They're expensive, their units aren't as useful and they take forever to process buildings and fighting forces. The only good thing is you don't need as many base units. Probes can start warping in four buildings in four seconds and then go back to mining. It's the waiting for the buildings that's the hard part.

I am feeling frustrated and annoyed.

The holidays are coming.

I do not know what the family will be doing, because THEY don't know what they're doing.

I do not want to go to a family gathering, because I have still not forgiven or forgotten what happened this time EDIT: two years ago, where we were kicked out of Bronco's house and ordered to go live with Mama A under penalty of having no babysitting services for The Cuteness.

Work is insane, and will continue to be insane, so much so that I'm not bothering to take any extra time off.

Solstice falls on a Monday this year. This is inconvenient. Christmas means nothing to me now, and as it falls on a Friday, I get a three day weekend. But I cannot celebrate MY holiday, as I have to be at work. Something for the weekend prior could be arranged, depending.

Do I really want to get involved in the hoopla? Is it because I'm EXPECTED to, as the stereotypical mother of 2 with house and 2 cars American dream?

I am looking forward to decorating the house. AFTER Dec. 1. Possibly later.

I remember when I looked forward to the holidays and all the hustle and bustle. This was, oh, about seven, eight years ago. Bad Things have been happening around the holidays ever since. I've lost that magic. I'm not sure I want it back.

I'm slipping again.

I've been going through my archive, trying to organize with tags. Did anyone notice the spiffy set of tags? Huh? Didja? I'm blocking out my stories so ppls can find them. So far I have:

alien dice: Fanfiction ghost story. The copyright holder approved.

mory: Fanfiction "end of series" story. The copyright holder loved it.

sher 1, 2, 3: These are my original works. Sher 1 is First Dance, sher 2 is First Date and sher 3 is First Con. First Love will be tagged as Rae 1, and Candy's and Kenji's story will be tagged as Candy 1, Kenji 1, Candy 2, etc. That one isn't finished, the First series is.

casino: aborted original about a blackjack dealer.

spiderman: one shot crossover

rent boys: Experiment in dialogue, inspired by Sticky Wicket, a webcomic

I'm only about halfway through 2004, which was when I started this whole LJ thing. I wrote a LOT back then! There's Freelance Keep angst, work angst, lots of memes...

My depressed posts are tagged "indigo". The only thing I took from the series "Touched By an Angel" was the name of the club a blues player once owned. I liked the reason why, "Indigo is that shade of the blues that is so bad, it might as well be black. It's the deepest, most profound state of the blues."

( And that's where I am right now. )

BTW, Bu, Squid, the flax is working out better then the silk for spinning. I'm maintaining a fairly even thread now. Making a huge mess on the couch, too.

Becca is now at 5 lbs, 6-7 oz. (depending on which scale you want to believe). She's also gained an inch in length, thus putting her in the top 25 percentile for -2 week old preemies.

SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Mommy Bloody will be starting the Zoloft tonight. Yay for Medicaid covering the full cost of teh drug. While this week, (read: the last three days) have been better overall, I can feel all the symptoms hovering in my mind and behind my head, just waiting for me to slip up so they can pounce like the dark vultures they are. I'd rather have the chemical help then wear myself out and have another breakdown.

We both have follow-up appointments in two weeks.

Also, for some odd reason, the scale at my doctor's office claims I've gained a pound. I HAVE been eating three, alebit (sp?) small, meals a day for the last three days, but I honestly didn't think it was enough to gain a full pound. Mebbe it was the frozen mocha cappachino I had with lunch. *shrug*

Wolf is having some Wog time right now. Kiddo's due to get ready for bed in about ten minutes. I had grilled steak for dinner.

Yeah, things are improving. Whoot.

God damnit.

Wolf just basically accused me of sabotaging my own breast milk. What really sucks is that he has a point. Breast milk requires nourishment and I haven't been eating like I did when I was pregnant. It was easy then, feeling that little Wog squirming around inside. Now she's out, she's her own person, and while she still relies on me, she's not as totally dependant on me as she was. There are other people available to help feed her and since the doctors insist she needs formula...

Why bother? comes to mind.

Not healthy, I know, but there it is. My milk wasn't good enough, isn't good enough, and I'm under enough stress as it is. Thus the old, bad eating habits come rushing back and I'm producing what amounts to vitamin water and it's the formula that keeps her going. This happened with Markl, only slower. Becca's up to a full two ounces a feeding, an amount I don't produce on a regular basis.

I was eating three full meals a day, plus snacks. In the past three days, I've either eaten lunch late or just snacked my way through the afternoon. My sleep schedule is a factor, as I'm not getting up until well after nine, sometimes as late as ten.

For example, today's eating intake: one scone, one cup of cafe au lait, two cheesecake bites, three bites of shower cake, several handfuls of gummi candy, two truffles, a slice of thin crust pizza, a cup of milk, a cup of juice and a cup of water.

Yeah.

I'm such a lazy little bitch.

Wolf just came up and informed me my math is wrong. He insists I produce more milk then I think, that I'm lowering my own numbers whenever I dwell on this. I KNOW I can produce what Becca needs, I was doing that the first week. I was so proud of myself. But ever since last Thursday...

I have GOT to call the JC clinic tomorrow. I need to be seen by a professional. I can't do this anymore. I know I'm loved, but it's not keeping this depression at bay.

That's a good color to describe me right now.

A blue beyond the blues.

But not quite the blacks.

Woke up at 1:15 this morning to find Wolf sitting in the kiddo's room. Turns out said kiddo had gotten up about 1 am to watch a movie. *buries face in hands, sobs*

We spent an hour and 15 in his bedroom, MAKING him explain himself. He knows the rules, he repeated them without prompting and even knew the consequences.

Finally got him to admit he's playing with the electronics because he wants to.

I'm almost out of ideas.

Wolf is talking about getting a motion sensor alarm and booby-trapping the hallway, above the cats' level so they don't set it off, but not so high the kiddo won't trigger it.

I'm all for this idea.

Anyhew, we were both still so depressed over this we treated ourselves to a lovely lunch at a new sushi place.

Then Wolf went out and bought cigars.

>_<

I tried so hard to be good. No, we shouldn't spend any more money. But damn it all, how come he gets his treat on top of lunch?

We compromised.

I now own my very own copy of Spirited Away.

And my Soot Sprite is due any day.

I'm still really upset about the kiddo, but I'm working on it. I've talked it out with a few of my coworkers, both childless but very sympathetic. That helped.

The school situation still isn't resolved either. Wolf spent the morning getting him on the list of five more schools the daycare shuttles to. Hopefully one of them will have an open slot. Worst case scenario is nobody has open spots, we enroll him in Samuels in our district and take them up on their before and after school program. It's not as good as our daycare, but it would cover the time we need. Might have to tweak my work schedule a little to make absolutely sure I can get there before six, but hey. It's a contingency plan.

I need contingency plans. They keep me sane.

I do like my job. A lot. Easy, great people and I think I’m making friends. Friends are a good thing. I’m still not 100% comfortable with the AR crew, especially since I know Sheri wants to have words with me over The Incident. Heh. “You broke the cardinal rule.” She tells me last night. Yes, I did, and so did Bob and Kevin and we’ve all paid for that, thank you very much. And don’t expect much cooperation from my ex-husband either. I’ve tried off and on for two years to be polite to the man and all I get in return are profanities and insults. All we want is for him to sign over his rights so Kevin can adopt Marc. That would free him up to do whatever the hell he wants. I don’t care. That part of our lives is over and I’ve been moving on. I never wanted the rancor between us. Hell, I tried the therapy. Watching him blow up in front of the therapist over something minor sealed it for me. I couldn’t let my son live with that hostility. It wasn’t safe for either of us. Unless and until he gets help for his anger, I want nothing to do with him. Oh, I’ll be polite to him, I always have been.

*sigh* I still have issues; with Bob, with the AR crew, with Don. I had considered that door firmly shut and locked, but now it’s been broken open and all the baggage has come tumbling out. It’s times like these when I want to say “Fuck it” and go back to being a semi-recluse with Kevin and Marc. But I’m already committed to Tiburon and the regional Summit. Time to suck it up, play nice and in what little free time I have, look myself squarely in the eye and ask

“Why do you feel this way?”

“Because I still care.”

“You never stopped.”

“No, I didn’t, I just got over the lust.”

“And the others?”

“They turned their backs on me at the first opportunity. I have no desire to be their friend again.”

“Because you were hurt by them.”

“Yes. I understand their position, but they did not return the favor. Why should I open myself up to that pain again?”

“The pain can be eased with new beginnings.”

“I don’t WANT a new beginning. I was HAPPY away from Fleet.”

“Even without a social life?”

“I had a few friends. And they were MY friends, not Bob’s friends tolerating me.”

“So, this is about you.”

“Of course it is. I want my own friends and I don’t think I’m going to get them in this region.”

“What about Bran and Christina?”

“They’re a start, but they’re still Fleet.”

“You want something outside Fleet that’s just yours. You already have that.”

“The Keep is an outlet, yes. I have Kyther to visit, but even that’s being touched by Bob’s ambition for Fleet. Fleet isn’t everything!”

“Then why didn’t you tell Kevin you didn’t want to?”

“I did, but I also know how important it is to him and I am his mate. You support your mate. I could have fun with Tiburon. We want to do things outside of ST, like gaming and BattleTech and community service. It won’t just be Star Trek. That gives me hope. Plus Kevin and I can work on the fanfiction together. I love writing with him.”

“But it’s not enough, is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t think it will be.”

“I’m afraid.”

“Afraid.”

“Of being overwhelmed. Of being the shadow.”

“You know how to prevent that.”

“I don’t want the spotlight, either.”

“Then what DO you want???”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Well then.”

“Yeah.”

There's really nothing to worry about.

Really.

Yet I sit here at work trying not to cry. My best girlfriend is sick, we don't know with what, but I have a few suspicions, and there's NOTHING I can do. Can't go see her, can't help with her critters, can't send a care package, can't afford to call her.

I take that back. I lit a candle for her last night, which is probably why I'm feeling so emotional today. I pumped a lot of power into that candle. I need some quiet time for me to recharge. Silly Witch. You do need to take care of you too. Not doing anybody any good if you don't.

Yoga is a good thing. So are cookies. *grin*