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Depression is such a bitch. I wish I could get out of it. All the therapy and the multiple antidepressants, and I just want one good day. Just a day to feel normal and relaxed. Maybe have some fun. Smile. Laugh. Just feel good.

{A} it’s about time you and I had a chat. There are a number of things I wish I could ask you, like: was it my Fire Stick or the vape that tipped you off? Were you in the car when he came here? What happened Juneteenth? Did you really trust him and go home and file for divorce just to find out he never broke up with me? What happened July 4th? What did he tell you was going on? Did he go to the hospital? What about when I sent the video—what did he tell you then?

So the depression has been real the last week or so. I don’t know what knocked me down, but it certainly did, and I was going through old memories. I wish that wasn’t the case for me. It appears protection is what I yearn for in life. Just someone who will protect me.

I want desperately to yell at {D} right now for destroying my life, my soul, my very self. I want to scream horrible things at him and tell him exactly what he did to me and why he is such a worthless, lying piece of shit. That probably won’t help, though.

Last night’s post had a second part that changed subject pretty abruptly. That’s because I had an epiphany mid-write—about what I’ve become, and the men who’ve been involved in it.

I am deeply pondering the laws of human behavior on a number of levels. I spent the night at LawyerBoy’s last night. That was officially the first time I have slept—like, gone to sleep with and woken up with—a man since {D}. If they do stay, I don’t sleep. It’s different than, you know, waking up with someone. It feels weird the day after. But often what feels good at the moment is not best down the line. I don’t regret it per se, but I don’t think I should have done that. Arm’s length with men is where I need to stay. Getting any closer and they will hurt you.

I am once again all over the place tonight. I have a lot of things going through my head. I try to take it step by step and whatever. Y’all are used to me by now, except for new regulars. Welcome. Let’s start with the visitors, shall we? Ohhhh {D}….

The stages of this are weird. The drive I have to keep fighting and keep going. See, it wasn’t there when I sent that email. That’s something I don’t think anyone understands. I didn’t fully comprehend the gravity of the situation until after I had sent the email to report it. There were stages of understanding.

I was so ready to go with this book idea and I have a ton of it done. I’m going to print a few pretty hardbound volumes to send to some very special people. I think it might be too much for them though. Like I’ll put together a primer and get them cheaply softbound printed and send them to prosecutors all over the country. Like I’ll get it to someone who will use the information. It’s not in-depth legal research, but if you have a case of rape within the relationship it would come in handy. I don’t know.

I did really good this weekend. Me and LawyerBoy moved the furniture in my bedroom. Same walls but different angle. I didn’t watch the videos like I said I would this weekend. I wanted to. I need to. I have to. I spent much of Saturday trying to talk myself into it and reading law and psych. What was I looking for?

Had some trouble last night. I feel like I’m over-defending my sanity now. The lady doth protest too much kinda thing happening. I’ve always been like that. Like I need to prove my fucking point. It’s a drive within me to be right, I think. Anyways. I was up early reviewing some posts, and I think there are some factual points I need to make to everyone since not everyone is familiar with the idiosyncrasies of Nevada law, namely my protections under Marcy's Law.