I Suck

I made A cry and I kicked the one dog and snarled at the other one. I'm a horrible disgusting excuse for a person and I hate myself. I don't even know what gets into me or why I get all nasty like this sometimes, when I feel like I just want to be left the fuck alone and then I hate having people - or animals - around me. I should go way out to the woods when I feel like this, not try to be around people. Instead I come home & make everyone miserable and say, "I resent having to make dinner. I resent feeling like I have to take care of everything." Poor A. That isn't fair to her at all. It's not her fault I'm a stupid horrible guilt obsessed evil bitch from hell. I'm a shitty mother, I'm a worthless excuse for a human being. Although I'm kind of enjoying being nasty to that fucking dog.

God I don't know what's wrong with me.

6 hours later, let me add a note. My pissy fit is basically over. I don't know what got into me - it's always connected somehow to food. I used to love making dinner, I used to love to cook, and I used to make dinner every night. But somehow, over the past year or so as I have morphed from being Mom all the time to being, well, whatever alcoholic incarnation of myself that I am now, dinner has gotten to be a royal pain in the ass. Unless, of course, I have friends over, then I still like it. Although not as much as I used to, this is true. But anyway, I feel better. And A feels better. And the dogs are fine too.

And, to cheer myself up, I scared the shit out of myself: I kept hearing this creepy eerie high pitched squeaky shrieky squealy noise and I was sure that the cats had brought in another small rodent or bird to torture. I couldn't figure out where the hell the noise was coming from and I started wigging, checking every window, every corner, expecting to come across something truly horrific. I did. My shoes. My wet bad pair of Danskos were squeaking creepily at me as I walked around practically on tiptoe looking for a dying creature. I am an idiot.