It's Wednesday. I've been in the new house three days now. Three mornings waking up to no lake. And a lifetime more of them to come.
I've had a very hard time with the transition. I cried all weekend at the lake before the move on Sunday. I went to the lake house to clean it yesterday and cried the entire time. Every time someone asks me how the new house is, I start crying. I'm on the verge of tears, always. I miss the lake.
I am hoping I'll be at peace with my decision soon.

On the upside, my boy spent two nights with me already this week. It has been over a month since I've had him overnight.
He promised he'd spend the first night with me in the new house, and he did. It was tense for a bit at first; he missed his dad. But then it passed, and the next day he actually decided to spend another night. It was so nice having him around again, I have missed him so. He really likes the new house. And I think the idea of his Dad being practically next door is a big part of what makes him so comfortable. His uncle Matt lives here in the park too, and a few of his Dad's close friends are in the area as well. It is home to him. I hope it will become home to me soon, too.
When he left last night he gave me a a few very long hugs and promised to come back again very soon.
So, on the upside, there is that.

I keep telling myself I made the right decision. Talking myself through all the reasons why this was the right thing for us, for me...
It's mine, I own it. It'll be paid off in a few years. It's affordable, low maintenance living in preparation for future retirement age. I'll see my son more (I already have seen this in effect). It's close to mom. It's far less expensive than renting. Oh, and.. it's mine.
But living on the water always was my life dream. And I was living it. And I gave it up. And I am in mourning. Seriously. If I could stop crying, that'd be great. Jeezus. I fucking hate being a girl.

Speaking of which...
I saw my shrink again this week. She suggested adding an anti-depressant to my current cocktail. I was actually going to ask for it if she hadn't suggested it, so we were already on the same page. We have to watch it closely though, as bi-polars don't always react well to stimulants. Hopefully it helps. Pretty soon I'll be a walking pharmacy.
Sometimes (a lot of the time), I wish I were an alcoholic, or an addict of some kind. Just so that I had some kind of substance to help me get out of my own head once in a while.
I hate my father for drinking himself to death, but god damnit, I can almost understand why he did.


The damn cat keeps getting outside. She's like a little escape artist. Scooting out by you as soon as you open the door. She was doing it at the lake too. There she'd scoot out by you, or she'd push the screens out of an open window. Here I worry about living in the country, and something getting her outside. She spent our very first night here outside overnight. I worried so. But she finally came back around the next morning. Damn cat. I've been able to keep her in since, but it's just a matter of time before she gets out again. Damn cat.

She's not going to be very happy if/when I bring a dog home. She hates dogs. She'll especially be wanting out then. I'm supposed to bring the new dog home this coming Sunday. I'm excited and nervous all at the same time. Will I be happy about it? Will it be added stress in my life? Will I regret it? I have been looking forward to it for weeks and now I'm hesitant. Is it just because I'm depressed about the move? I don't know. I am worried. I worry about everything, though. I worry about and overthink absolutely everything.
And not that I am preparing for the worst, but this is a different kind of scenario, and in this particular situation, if it doesn't work out for some strange unknown reason, the dog can always go back to her original home. Again, not that I would want that, and I'm certainly not expecting or preparing for that (and not that it would be ideal for her, I know).. I want it to work. I am planning on being her new forever person. But it's nice to know that there is that insurance, so to speak, just in case.
Again, I overthink absolutely everything in my life. Of course I would overthink this. Beat it dead into the ground until it becomes something enormously overwhelming. Why wouldn't I? It's what I do. Sigh.


Work has been a little more stressful than usual lately. My one happy place in life, damnit. That's what happens when you're short-staffed I guess. I've had to pick up a  night shift, which I absolutely abhor, for a couple reasons. First, it's way past my bedtime. I'm used to being in pajamas by 7 and in bed by 10, at the latest. Secondly, bar patrons are way different at night. When the sun sets, the level of crazy goes up, and my tolerance level goes down. Lord help me.
Lord, Universe, Buddha, whomever, whatever, please, please, please, let me hire a new bartender , STAT.


I'm sitting here alone in the new house for the first time. Dawson was here the first couple nights, and Phil last night. But they're both gone, and now I get to see how it feels here alone. I'll be alone until Phil comes back on Friday, for one night (he's only around a couple nights a week), or until Dawson pops back in for a visit. I'm so glad I was able to have them for company the first few days here. This transition has been hard enough as it is, going it alone would have been awful. Now to see how it will feel being here alone, as I will be a lot of the time...
Guess this'll help me figure out how much I'll need that dog, won't it?

Be well.