I mean, it’s nothing drastic. I just keep the techno going, dance around this bitch at night, and work on making the bread.
This has always been the plan.
Who said I was going to take a break from the plan? Fat hos in the back row, that was y’all?
Must have been. There’s no fucking way I was considering more of The Dumb Shit.
Nuh uh. Nah. In the light of a day to overthink, I just feel like it’s a bad idea, all around. Just not conducive. Not advisable. Not some shit a woman with her wits about her needs to set about doing.
Now, I may not actually have my wits about me, but that’s not the question, now is it? Exactly.
I don’t have another run left in me. I just don’t. Let me tell y’all why.
Recently, I’ve been observing someone I’ve known for years become more and more of a pill junkie. They think I don’t know. Right, yeah. I couldn’t tell you what that shit looks like.
I digress.
So, it put me in my feelings. I don’t really talk about my second husband a lot, Corey. He passed three years back, I’m sure some of you old-timers remember me writing about him.
Corey was with me at the fucking height of my addiction. When I say fucked up, please know that I was not the woman you know today. I did not have my shit together.
And he tried to stick it out with me. Granted, he had his own fucking mess, but I found out about that later. I had zero reason to act the way I acted. I mean, I was a fucking asshole.
Just, unforgivable. Fuck.
Observing this pill junkie now is really reminding me of some of the fuckery. I don’t know how he put up with me. Because I was a fucking hot mess. But, he loved me. I know he did, even with as fucking sideways as it went. He did love me. The only way he knew how.
The fact that this shit is just now dawning on me, after all these years of sobriety, after all of this time to atone. Clearly, I need to spend some time in my personal file-o-flex, because I should have settled this shit long ago.
I think this time, I’m gonna sit this one out. I think I’m gonna use some fucking PTO, if you will.
I think I’m going to really have a good, long talk with myself.
That being said, after much consideration, I’m going to need to pass on throwing my hat in the ring, y’all.
Maybe next year. Maybe I’ll fare better then. Probably. I’m sure. So, next year then.