(Almost) Last Day

Breakfast at the bookstore cafe before work on one of my last days working here. Some reservations, as always, about leaving. Dr Green is right that work was a way for me to escape the problems at home. But with the firing of Virginia, I think that it is the right thing for me to leave regardless. I mean, I think Tacoma was really the last straw, but the Virginia issue is just reinforcing that. **sigh** will I survive everything in the upcoming weeks. So much uncertainty, more than usual. And I just want to hide in my room and avoid all of it, like mom.

Sugar packet quote

“In your life, you are the paint, the painter, and the painting.”

If this is true, then I am lead based paint, being used by a toddler for a messy smear of a finger painting, while sucking on my fingers.

Day one of a newly fresh hell for me. I just want to just stay in bed and rot away surfing the web. But I got one task done with getting Visiting Angels to come over so it’s a start.

I don’t want any of this responsibility. I’m such a fuckboi. A 44 year old scared fuckboi. I probably should be doing some DBT to talk me down. But all I do is talk myself down. There is never a solution or a solution that I take.


Not that I have to change and give Dad a catheter. Not that Mom isn’t/can’t help at all. Not that the family had no one we feel we can call on. It’s just the fact that I can’t lift him, that I’m out of shape and can’t dead lift 180lbs like everyone else seems like they can do. How did the nurses do it at the hospital? I’m such a failure has a son and see nothing but more failures ahead for me. Putting dad in a home, even temporarily. What if it’s permanent, how are mom and I going to live together when we can be at each other’s throats at a moments notice. What if they both go in, will I be able to make it or survive? Why isn’t death an option? Instead I’m just going to repeat Wise Mind and try to go to sleep until 4am when I can do it all over again.