An update? Truly?
Oh, April and May.
I woke up this morning to realize that it's been four years since I pushed over an edge and sought out therapy--which really was more helpful than the ex wanted it to be (but let's face it, he wasn't the brightest paint-pot on the palette)
As it is, I hadn't given it much thought until now. And when I put it next to the strange dreams that I have finally gotten a chance to sift through, I guess it makes an odd amount of sense. I was pushed and I nearly gave in and then I managed to whip myself around in time to open my eyes fully.
Let me tell you; encountering the ex in a dreamscape is never my idea of fun but when I'm flanked by at least three persons that I know would do damn near anything to ensure my safety in the waking world, it's a bit easier. And in said dreamscape, the arguments from the ex were the same but far more weakly presented. What amused me after the fact is that Dorothy was present as well and her arguments were just as weak and just as annoying. And in all of these instances, everything was vivid and epically cinematic, sans kickass soundtrack to match. (Which I may go about remedying, I'm not sure)
In the midst of this, things in the waking world have been keeping me busy. I'm writing this between laundry and dishwasher loads, for one thing. I spent the better part of an hour on the phone with my mom last night, listening to her try to pull herself out of hysterics that my brother and his [insert string of vile comments/names here] girlfriend have driven her to. My mom agreed that while I've put her through a fair amount of hell since I hit middle school, it's nowhere near as deadly as this. This situation is quite literally killing her. And she barely managed to convince my grandfather not to visit--which is just as well because he would have died on the spot due to a rage induced heart attack.
Case in point? The house they're all in is actually my grandfather's, left to my mom's care since he's not living up north. Savannah, in her distinct lack of tack and wisdom, told my mother to "get the f*** out of my house". Upon hearing this, and considering I was already in a bad mood when I did, I resolved in that moment that if I ever saw this girl I would have very little to keep me from slapping her for being in the same room. Even the dead evil ex had the minor sense to show some respect for my mother if they were in the same room for any reason. It's inexcusable. And my brother is utterly whipped by Savannah--so much so that his friends have abandoned him but will still happily help my mom with things that require heavy lifting and moving. For the first time that I can recall, he's not listening to his friends, and this is troubling on so many levels that it makes me a tad ill.
I can promise with no small amount of certainty that if I am ever present when Savannah pops off at my mom like she has been, I will come down on her in a way that will make the Rapture and Ragnarok look like day spas.
Work is, well, work. I can't really say much about it one way or the other. And I think I have the meds to thank for that. I am studying for my PBCT test, because I need to take it before the end of July, and I am recalling exactly why I didn't ever go into Hospital Pharmacy. Coworkers and manager have been encouraging me though, saying that I will be just fine when I take it, and that I will pass it without issue. I appreciate their mindset on the matter.
There are two birthdays this month, Darion and Damia both. Darion will be seven, Damia will be twelve. My mom will be visiting as well, during which time I intend to help her relax a little and just kick around and have a good time--she is in dire need of some good laughs and music--and I know she's probably counting down the hours at this point. At the end of the month is the Phoenix ComiCon, which I will be attending again with Jer, and there will be much fun involved. In fact, I'm working on business card layouts, so I can take photos of folks and then hand them a card so they know where to find them later. Rose has invited me and Jer down to her humble abode during Memorial Day weekend too--and Jer is still saying he's okay with the drive but it will sadly be more of a last second decision if we go or not.
I am behind in photo posting, but will do my best to make up for that. Art is still weekly for my DA (link is in my journal's sidebar) and it's getting back on track. Dust Raven is still one piece that REFUSES to cooperate at all, and I am annoyed with that fact. But I will get it done, one way or another.
And that's more or less it. Back to the cleaning of the house...
I woke up this morning to realize that it's been four years since I pushed over an edge and sought out therapy--which really was more helpful than the ex wanted it to be (but let's face it, he wasn't the brightest paint-pot on the palette)
As it is, I hadn't given it much thought until now. And when I put it next to the strange dreams that I have finally gotten a chance to sift through, I guess it makes an odd amount of sense. I was pushed and I nearly gave in and then I managed to whip myself around in time to open my eyes fully.
Let me tell you; encountering the ex in a dreamscape is never my idea of fun but when I'm flanked by at least three persons that I know would do damn near anything to ensure my safety in the waking world, it's a bit easier. And in said dreamscape, the arguments from the ex were the same but far more weakly presented. What amused me after the fact is that Dorothy was present as well and her arguments were just as weak and just as annoying. And in all of these instances, everything was vivid and epically cinematic, sans kickass soundtrack to match. (Which I may go about remedying, I'm not sure)
In the midst of this, things in the waking world have been keeping me busy. I'm writing this between laundry and dishwasher loads, for one thing. I spent the better part of an hour on the phone with my mom last night, listening to her try to pull herself out of hysterics that my brother and his [insert string of vile comments/names here] girlfriend have driven her to. My mom agreed that while I've put her through a fair amount of hell since I hit middle school, it's nowhere near as deadly as this. This situation is quite literally killing her. And she barely managed to convince my grandfather not to visit--which is just as well because he would have died on the spot due to a rage induced heart attack.
Case in point? The house they're all in is actually my grandfather's, left to my mom's care since he's not living up north. Savannah, in her distinct lack of tack and wisdom, told my mother to "get the f*** out of my house". Upon hearing this, and considering I was already in a bad mood when I did, I resolved in that moment that if I ever saw this girl I would have very little to keep me from slapping her for being in the same room. Even the dead evil ex had the minor sense to show some respect for my mother if they were in the same room for any reason. It's inexcusable. And my brother is utterly whipped by Savannah--so much so that his friends have abandoned him but will still happily help my mom with things that require heavy lifting and moving. For the first time that I can recall, he's not listening to his friends, and this is troubling on so many levels that it makes me a tad ill.
I can promise with no small amount of certainty that if I am ever present when Savannah pops off at my mom like she has been, I will come down on her in a way that will make the Rapture and Ragnarok look like day spas.
Work is, well, work. I can't really say much about it one way or the other. And I think I have the meds to thank for that. I am studying for my PBCT test, because I need to take it before the end of July, and I am recalling exactly why I didn't ever go into Hospital Pharmacy. Coworkers and manager have been encouraging me though, saying that I will be just fine when I take it, and that I will pass it without issue. I appreciate their mindset on the matter.
There are two birthdays this month, Darion and Damia both. Darion will be seven, Damia will be twelve. My mom will be visiting as well, during which time I intend to help her relax a little and just kick around and have a good time--she is in dire need of some good laughs and music--and I know she's probably counting down the hours at this point. At the end of the month is the Phoenix ComiCon, which I will be attending again with Jer, and there will be much fun involved. In fact, I'm working on business card layouts, so I can take photos of folks and then hand them a card so they know where to find them later. Rose has invited me and Jer down to her humble abode during Memorial Day weekend too--and Jer is still saying he's okay with the drive but it will sadly be more of a last second decision if we go or not.
I am behind in photo posting, but will do my best to make up for that. Art is still weekly for my DA (link is in my journal's sidebar) and it's getting back on track. Dust Raven is still one piece that REFUSES to cooperate at all, and I am annoyed with that fact. But I will get it done, one way or another.
And that's more or less it. Back to the cleaning of the house...