January 24th, 2003

Rage attack

It's 5am and I'm up again. Not as bad as it has been, but the adrenals are pumping. Zack went to spend the night at Gail's last night, citing the bigger, more comfortable bed he has over there. I think the bed's a convenient excuse, but I don't know what the real reasons are,yet. And that triggers my rage at Gail for the fucking gall of what she did in August, kidnapping the boys and having the bald, brazen effrontery to accuse me of doing what she just did. I should probably write this out more thoroughly, so that someone else can understand it; right now I'm too pissed.


I'm stuck, and it's painful.

Had a great day, yesterday. Had a dozen items on my to-do list, finished ten. For reference, six is an average full day's work.

Today, woke up in an empty apartment. No friends up; I've only made three or four in the new town since the move, and my parents are on vacation and unreachable. The polyclan's long since dead. Candice and Phyllis are still my friends, but the distance is growing.

And I'm unemployed, and the Dept. of Labor has finally agreed that I'm damn near unemployable, professionally. I've been Dad for fifteen years, fitting jobs in as I could around that, and the gaps in my work history combined with the lack of professional training means that I can't *get* the jobs I can *do*.

And I'm out of bucks, and the bills are due, and admitting to the stress could get used against me in the custody action around the boys. Said custody action being the only reason my real name isn't on this account.

I've done my best to be there for people when they needed me. Didn't work with Gail She still hasn't learned to be there for anyone unless she needs them. But I need someone to be there for me, and if there's someone there, I must not have figured out how to make my need known.