Success!

Of course not. Jesus, do you know me at all? I have managed to make Kulin so angry with me that she wants me out of her house. I'm a mother fucking rock star. That's right. She says she knows that I've just come out of a horrible situation but that I'm a poor role model for her children so I need to go. Just like that. Then threatened not to pay me tomorrow. Oh, and helped get Papa to take back his car and give it to Thom. So now I have no money, no car, no home. But hell, I'm not getting beat up, right?

Funny, there was an odd sort of security with Mark - though no safety. Is it better to live with someone who may or may not hit you, may or may not be mean to you, may or may not choke you until you lose consciousness.....or this?

I'm still planning to move to London. I will get a second job. But first I have to figure out where a broke bitch and her dog are going to live. I knew she would do this. I knew before I ever moved out here that there wouldn't be security living with Kulin. I almost didn't move here but it was that or die and fuck if I didn't choose life. She says I can't control my addiction because I'm still smoking and I drink too much. This from the woman who drinks every single day. But she fakes it better than I can. Or I drink more. Or I just don't give a shit. Probably I just don't give a shit. And this weekend alone I painted Ryan and his friend's faces for his first high school football game. Then I took him to buy a school pride shirt. Then I drove them to the game. Then I went to pick them up after because she was at dinner DRINKING with her husband. And on Sunday when she wasn't home and her sick twelve year old daughter came home I was the one who held her. I was the one who made her dinner and gave her medicine. And Monday, when I was feeling exceptionally low and she ditched her TWO sick kids to run around all afternoon and have a cocktail I was the one who held Meg AND Ryan (and Tripper, actually...I was covered) and I was the one who played video games with Ryan and I was the one who helped Megan with her algebra. Oh, but she picked up taco bell on her way home and gave me her leftovers from lunch.

I'm a poor role model. I've got news for her. Her oldest son has been drinking well before I was his role model. Has tried pot. Smokes tobacco out of a hookah that he hides from her in his safe in his room. Smokes DAILY and he had that shit long before I got here. And the middle son got drunk with the older son when their parents were out of town and let me take the fall for it. Oh, yeah, I drank an entire case of beer in addition to seven bottles of wine over the course of two days. I wasn't EVEN HOME. And the middle one is watching porn which, again, has NOTHING to do with me.

She says she "knows" about my situation. She has NO FUCKING IDEA. And yeah, I drink too much. I'd drink more if I thought I could function that way. I'd drink myself to death if it meant I didn't have this fucking gaping empty gnawing ache in my soul. She doesn't "know" anything. She can acknowledge that my self-esteem is shot to hell right now but she can't acknowledge that it's going to take time for me to heal. I spent FIVE FUCKING YEARS getting abused in every way imaginable and being told it was love and I'm supposed to be better because it hasn't happened in three months and the only abuse I've had to endure is hers? And she would never consider herself abusive. But being told regularly that you're not good enough and you have to do something else or something better and you can't do this and you can't do that and you have to eat this and you have to go to the gym with me every morning (because god fucking FORBID I'm fat) and you can only have these friends and even though you're 35 you have to call or text and let me know where you are at all times and you can't ever have a day where you just don't feel like doing anything and you can't cry and you can't be scared but oh, yeah, you're doing great by the way. Real proud of you.

FUCK FUCK FUCK

At least this time she sent me an email to tell me what a piece of shit I am. I didn't have to sit there and look at her perfect, beautiful face and discuss my drinking problem over a bottle or two of wine. Yeah, figure that one out.