Blogging is still hard for me.

Sometimes, the things I want to write, are too emotional, too raw.

I'm not sure I want anyone else to see, yet I feel  like if I don't get them out, I'll scream.

I used to write EVERYTHING here.

 But, that was before I had so  much to think about. Sometimes now, the things that I want to write about are..... hurtful, socially unacceptable.

I wonder if my daughter will come and read them, or other family members, or friends. Will what I write upset them, or make them overly concerned for my path of thinking?

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Charlie's mom passed away about 6weeks ago. And some where I remember writing or telling someone that I feel/felt as if DEATH has camped at my home.

I'm depressed, I admit it.

I look at all that still needs to be done, and then count all the wasted days.

I find it hard to stay focused and get things completed. It's not that I forget things... ok, I forget things... but it's that I'm constantly shoving some task to the back burner and then nothing gets finished.

I thought getting the dry-mark board and mounting it right in my face (the hallway wall) would keep things more organized. That was a brief dream.

I was held accountable for finances today. He was not happy. He'd told me what to do, what he expected and I'd failed. I promised I'd fix it... eventually. I know, that he knows, what I'm going through... that doesn't mean that he'll let me slide forever.

Lately, I've felt "cut off" from the world a bit. And I haven't liked it much. But I also know it's a bit of a necessity. We talked about that today, actually.... not that I felt cut off... but why it was necessary.

I don't blame him for this, I know he's just trying to keep me safe in his own way. As I described it to him today, I stepped out of the house, and I wasn't in kansas anymore. I know bad things can happen. I know that sometimes I'm too trusting. I feel like I'm walking that fine line between "obedient and WHAT THE HELL?!"

There are days that I feel pushed and I want to shove back. Days that I want to just scream. Days that I feel I can't breath. Days when I want to tell the entire universe to Fuck OFF.

It's sad. She remembered our anniversary, but was afraid to send a card, not knowing if we still celebrated it or not. She was stressing over causing a bad thing to get worse. I laughed, I told her it was ok, I was torn. I was happy that she'd rememberd, yet so sad that things are the way they are. She's so grown up most of the time, yet I still see glimpses of my baby. I know she'd like for things to be good here at home, but she knows how things really are.

 I wish I could make her world, and her family perfect, but I can't, and I have to remind myself of it. I know that she's not been happy with me over my life choice. But I hope that the day will come, when she understands how much I sacrificed to give her a "normal" life. And that now, it's my turn to find my own way in life, and to find what makes ME happy.

Happiness comes with a price.