Home: a meltdown

I want to go home. I’ve been saying it for years. I just want to go home, and I have no idea where that is.

If it were a real place, my kids would be there and nothing could keep us down—we would make it fun. Hell, when our house burned down, we made it fun. We always made it fun no matter what ever went wrong, and it always went fucking wrong. {LP} was the happiest kid on earth and nothing could make him sad. He was so empathetic even as a little kid. I talked to him for the first time in months the other day. He is applying for an internship doing back-end software development, or as he put it, easy work.

I haven’t spoken to the others since May. I’m mad at them for not seeing that I’ve changed and that I deserve another chance.

I want all of this to go away. I got a motion for the lawsuit today, and I’ve been just doing that work I need to do to respond, and working on discovery, and what I can and can’t do, and it’s been too much. This lawsuit is too much for me to handle, and I can’t just stop and come back later.

And I’m fucking unemployed. I don’t even know what jobs to apply for. I can’t get a job that I would be happy doing—I don’t have the resume—and I can’t hold down a job because I can’t keep my shit together. I am not going to make it alone. I’m just not. Like financially, emotionally—everythingally. I can’t do it. I can try. I’ve been trying. It doesn’t work out. It never does.

I don’t know why I’m such a fuck up. I’m better than this and smarter than this.

My best friend and I have known each other from the first day of high school band camp. I went to a magnet school, and we were competitive with standardized test scores. She and I were both in the 99th percentile. She went on  to be valedictorian at Wellesley, and then off to Harvard Med, where they don’t have class rankings—but she will always remind you she was the most decorated graduate. She is the smartest human I’ve ever met.

Her fellowship went weird. It was too much on her and there is a long story, but I was sleeping on her floor with the baby and driving her to her outpatient psych every day. I learned how to navigate rotaries in Boston for her. I also had to do winter in New Hampshire for her once. That’s BFF hazard-pay shit.

We both had potential. She met hers. We were both fucked up, though. I am so fucking mad at her for not showing up. I mean, I get it—she runs a department and has a some bus treating homeless teens with AIDS and shit. She doesn’t have time. She has fucking symposiums to conduct.

That’s the last time I saw her. She was in Vegas for a symposium and between dinners with infectious disease guys and shit, I got to see her one night for a couple hours—with her wife, who watches reality shows and talks about them and shit.

I was so mad when I hugged her goodbye. I didn’t say anything, but we just haven’t talked since. She texted me “merry Christmas” and sent me a $50 DoorDash gift card so I could have a holiday meal.

I’m mad at her, and my mom, and my sister and my dad and my kids, and all the assholes who just abandoned me and left me for dead.

I’m not making sense because I’m sitting here sobbing, and I’m mad at LawyerBoy too because he has the fucking annoying tendency to, when I’m really fucking bad, be too busy. Like he is always there, but my god—when it’s this bad he always has something else happening.

And the bodybuilder I was so excited about has been texting me for two days and I haven’t responded because I’m just not doing okay, and I can’t unleash the total package crazy on that man.

I just need anyone at all to tell me to come home. I don’t care who. I need somewhere that can be home—someone that can be home.

I just fucking want to go home.