When I was seeing a therapist, I eventually confessed to her that I have no ego strength. If someone tells me I suck, I’m all, “I suck? OK, yeah, I can see what you mean. Lemme see what I can do to fix that.” Someone tells me I am awesome?
Every time I reread the last post (no matter which post happens to be last these days) I think: Fuckit in a Bucket, next post I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL HAVE MY SENSE OF HUMOR BACK. I will post Kim Kardashian Peeps (bunny body, duckface made from a an
It’s getting harder and harder to write all this down. Mostly because there’s so much happening so fast, I know I’m not processing too well. I’m scared I’ll never make sense of it if I don’t have some way to remember it. But even the act of writing it down
This year both my parents forgot my birthday, a ’la Sixteen Candles. I’m kind of caught between annoyed shock, maturely telling myself this development is NBD, or simply scraping the bottom of my fucks barrel, only to find I have no more left to give. All I know is that
LESS FUNNY SHIT FROM MIDDLE Middle called to tell me that Dad is having trouble swallowing his pills. This did not seem like a big deal to me. However, Middle knows a shit-ton about dementia, and so when her little-kid-again voice ghosted through the phone line, “It’s like now I