It looks like my dad may develop a case of debilitating vertigo... last week (or was it this week?) was the second time he's gotten it and I'm scared he's starting to be affected by his age. I don't want my dad to get old. I don't want him to ever die; and maybe it's entirely selfish of me but I don't know how I'm going to live without him.
I think I'm on the verge of another major blow-up/breakdown. Sometimes I feel I should have to be on my 200mg of Zoloft, pregnant or not. This depression thing loves to attach itself like a shadow, like something I can never get rid of. I cried all last night again, feeling more hopeless than ever. How am I going to manage this all on my own?
My brother blew up at me again last night. That asshole of a pampered little jerk left his KFC garbage on the coffee table all day long and deemed it necessary to bitch me out for trying to tell him to throw it away. I did not tolerate it this time and sent him to his room, to which he began calling me down to the dirt. I was cooking him some supper at the time so in my own little fit of rage I chased after him with the pasta pot... damn that felt good. My dad came home afterwards and at least he took my side this time and made my brother write 500 times that he was sorry. Maybe after 500 or so encounters like this he'll finally understand that his actions have consequences. Or maybe not because he is, after all... him.
The most infuriating thing I'm forced to put up with right now is Justin. This particular jerk has had it quite well if you ask me. He hasn't had to take on a single bit of responsibility with OUR baby. He hasn't sent me any money at all despite his many claims in helping me out, he doesn't feel the need to let his family know of his soon-to-be fatherhood, he doesn't even care about the well-being of his son. He's completely selfish and immature and doesn't think about anyone but himself. So I got on the computer this evening after a much-needed nap and found a MSN message window from said high-horse boy; my MSN seems to be in away-mode 98% of the time these days. Anyway, Justin felt the need to write me a little threat: "I am going to kill you; the next time I hear you telling people I am the father I will never speak to you again". If this asshole wasn't so damn far away I'd take all my agressions out on him without the slightest thought as to any reprecussions. Who the fuck does he think he is?! I'm ashamed to even admit that he's the father. Who the fuck in their right mind would even want such an individual to share DNA with their child??? I'm letting my anger build up a bit more before I send him a strongly worded e-mail with my own threats. I never wanted to talk to him in his state of mind anyway so he can deal with me through the goddamned court if that's how he wants to play. Fucking scum. I sure hope that my poor son inherits my traits because I'd hate to look at someone I love with my whole entirety and see Justin looking back at me for the rest of my life.
I'm also on the verge of finally getting this damn lawsuit over with. It's only been what, almost two years since I got hit by that car? Almost two years of utter hell and suffering, something that tore all my goals out of my hands and left me affected physically, emotionally, mentally, the whole works. Getting hit by that asshole was one of the hardest challenges I've ever had to go through in my entire life... that in itself is a strong statement. The initial monetary proposal from my lawyer for my suffering was $22,000. I don't even call that fair because it's completely changed my life and I'll never be the same person for that reason. Americans can somehow manage to slip on a wet floor and end up with more money than I was supposed to be getting. Well, do you know what I'm actually going to get? Less than 6,000 fucking dollars. I didn't hear the exact amount because some jerk was beeping me on call-waiting, but I was in too much shock to be paying full attention anyway. Nothing ever seems to work to my benefit and I wonder why I haven't given up already. Fuck it all.
And I hate the goddamned postal service too. Charging me 13 freaking bucks in customs charges for diaper covers. Waiting nearly a month for them in the first place just WASN'T enough, was it? Customs can kiss my pregnant ass. If Canada had half-decent cloth diapering supplies, I wouldn't have to shop online and get charged an arm and a leg after the currency conversion alone.
I'm sick of complaining, I seriously don't know how people can do this on a daily basis.
Domonic broke my heart this morning. I had three babies at work again, no surprise there. But I was letting them have their snacks and Domonic fell backwards on his kiddie chair and bumped his head and cried for a solid 3 minutes afterwards. I guess I kinda have to get used to accumulating snot and tears and cookie crumbs on my shirt anyways.
STU tee, stupid maternity jeans, rainbow socks
I'm listening to:
Everybody loves Raymond