Perhaps?
I'm one week closer to my lease being up but that's not even the concern. Should I really be moving back to the land of podunk? If I move I'm simply going to get away from the Boy and not because there is anything there that I want.
I hate my job right now but it's a living. Things could definitely be worse. For example, my prospects in Bismarck of working at the casino as a cash girl for $8.50 an hour. Marketable skill, indeed but I'm not sure that I could look myself in the mirror day after day were that my only reason for getting out of bed.
I would find myself alone with only my highly dysfunctional family to act as a support group. Still I can't muster the courage to say that I still wouldn't be better off there because I don't know.
Couldn't I just find an apartment close to work and try my hand at making a life that is less centered around the Boy and our relationship, as it were? Wouldn't it be worth a shot at continuing my Prozac and getting a cat? Would that be more helpful than moving in with my drug-addicted, alcoholic and often suicidal sister? Would it be better than close proximity to my parents as they rapidly decline in health?
God, I am the last one to know what to do. What is made clear is that time will be making my decisions for me if I don't get on the move.
I'm looking at an apartment or two tomorrow. Also, mommylap has offered her services on this little hellish errand and I couldn't be more relieved.
Perhaps I will find a place where I could relearn what it is to be me and not we. I'm still part of a couple right now but it's not all I am anymore. I am killing that part of and suffering a bit as it dies.
Could I have written perhaps more often in a single entry? Methinks not. I do appreciate you reading this.
