Being private in public

So I dusted off this blog because it used to give me solace when I just couldn't take things anymore. Then I healed and found talking to actual people was pretty helpful. Not that I had a huge audience but I had my peeps. Now I'm writing to no one which suits me just fine since I spend a good portion of the day talking to myself. I can say whatever I want with no backlash. I can say things like:

My daughter, once an angel child, is verbally abusive and at times barely resembles the sweet girl I once adored.

While I love having a dog (we got a dog) sometimes I get tired of walking her, feeding her and making sure she has water. Yes, I am completely smitten with her but sometimes mama just needs to be alone.

Sometimes I am so consumed with depression I can't breathe. Don't worry though, I'll still pack the school lunch and smile like I am the happiest woman in the world.

There's more but that's it for this second.

I'm back with a new voice.

Posted this badboy on Facebook today. After months of feeling like shit I was finally (self) diagnosed. I have an acute case of not being valued, heard and respected. It hurt like hell but at least a diagnosis will lead me to a cure. I'm tired of always being the one "there for you." Sometimes a call, text or email asking how I was would be nice. I only get a random bing or buzz when someone needs something. Headshots? Sure. Can't pay? I understand, I'm in a financial mess myself but on the rare chance someone did something for me you can bet your ass I would bend over backwards (or at least as far as my old body will move) and gush with thanks, flowers and perhaps a Starbucks card.

I get nothing.

Except a request for something else.

Today's rant over. Happy Friday.