I hope everyone had a good V day or galentine’s or single’s awareness day. The last few days have been wearing on me. Mr. Baby going through baby woes but screaming breaks my brain at times. He seems to be on the up and up later today. The snow makes me feel trapped, normally we go for a walk or two daily. Except, now I can’t. It’s hard to imagine the difficulty unless you are in the moment. Part of sidewalk clear then not clear then not. The furthest we can get is one building over, so I walked with him on foot to a smaller store near by than our usual grocery. It just upsets me, I am glad snow does not last long here but I feel unhinged feeling trapped. How ridiculous a small bit of snow creates such a huge change. Can’t navigate too many streets, and on babysitting days I work, not walk on my own.

Valentine’s day was slow and so was today, family day. Then the toilet clogged and I tried again to leave seeing rain had cleared some snow. Nope, still cannot get to the store. I tried. The plunger is draped inside the toilet, full of soap and whatever other stupid DIY online has told me works. I don’t know why this particular toilet is so difficult I had no issues with a plunger any other place I have lived. Something as simple as going to the store for draino is not a possibility at the moment. I will go on my own tomorrow, while I have babysitting, but just everything compounded the last couple days I feel foul.

Valentine’s day is one of my favourite holidays despite rarely having a valentine on one. Someone stole my lingerie delivered in my building in a boring black package and I cannot get over that. I was too excited and then someone fucking steals it. I am grateful those that buy me it from my fan web site, the package originally got delivered last Tuesday on the 9th and I still have not figured out who took it. However, Victoria’s Secret is amazing, sent out a replacement to arrive soon. I filed a police report, building is checking the camera. It just feels so violating. And there are packages left all the time for residents. Why that package. In a matter of three hours. I have been robbed before, in a house. It took me three days to really sink it in someone came in and took my laptop, and I had a roommate at the time, they stole her guitar. Each time I go downstairs here I see other packages. Why my package, why that package. I get things delivered often that are boring, diaper wipes. Others have packages big and small. I realized it isn’t a personal assault on me, it isn’t a personalized target, my diaper wipes did not get stolen. It just feels violating, bitter, and I normally run to get packages as I am excited. This time I did not, as I was working and figured would pick it up after picking up Mr. Baby and I regret not following my usual routine of grabbing something right away I am excited to receive.

Every faucet of these sour notes is kind of whatever on their own, but together I’m just really fucking sad, upset. The possibility of taking time off is not an option. I’m beginning to have anxiety again that I have managed well to rid of for many months. Not being able to eat until late late at night every moment full of screaming or feeling I am not doing enough online. It makes me angry when people have called me an independent woman. I am not of a belief a person truly asks to be independent. People are social creatures. It is not a choice of full contentment. My commitment to values or a commitment to keeping a non dramatic household is not a badge of independence honour. It just happens to be a side effect. If you have a choice between not having something or doing it yourself, what are you going to do? You try to fix the toilet yourself. You try to drag the stroller through this dumb snow that is no obstacle to many. The smallest thing is a huge thing to some. Wheel chairs, strollers, walkers. It makes me angry some people assume I have a boyfriend. It makes me angry some people assume someone takes my pictures. In a heartbeat my friends would go and drop what I need off if I asked. It isn’t like I am abandoned, alone in the supportive sense. I feel unravelled this last week and any navigation back to not feeling that is not working. I have nothing good to say here as all I feel is rage and sadness. Coupled with each other in a wild devilish dance. It is so rarely I unveil vulnerability of this type, bound by years of emotional snipers ready to capitalize on an emotional opportunity. I haven’t been around those girls since I left. Yet the poison still binds me. Stoic coldness or death. Down to earth or death. Polite indifference or death. I understand why so many working girls are not kind. I do not blame them, not even the slightest. I do not condone it either though. How much harder it is to be kind in the midst of those that drink up your soul from emotional warfare. What is normal vulnerability around square people is a portal to being destroyed. The only other people i’ve met that seem to understand that have been in the military.

I remember it snowed, too, Valentine’s day, 2019 and my last day forever there unknowing to all the girls except the managers. My mentor had picked up the day specifically to see me to say goodbye. The snow prevented her from coming to work. I never got to say goodbye. I think of this often. How we never got to have one last conversation. How guilty I felt keeping my pregnancy a secret from her. How I wish I could have said goodbye and the fucking snow prevented that. I never got to see her again. I never will. It isn’t like that in the working girl world of those types. I packed up my stuff and left as discreetly as possible. The girls there that day didn’t see me bringing more stuff than usual. They didn’t notice my empty locker. I was as quiet and discreet as possible. Me and my future Mr. Baby inside of me off to a different, quieter life.

2020 Valentine I actually don’t remember. Blacked out. A ex I kicked out in summertime would have been here with me. Except, I can’t remember. Majority of last year I don’t remember outside of Mr. Baby or things related to online. I remember things about you guys online, minute details, I remember many firsts of Mr. Baby. But other than that? Nothing. Blurs of scream crying most days and never knowing what day he would come home to rip me apart or Mr. Baby. How I wouldn’t know what he was up to. How I will never forgive him for how he treated my baby. How I will never forget the breach of trust on every level. How eternally grateful I am he was never his daddo. I can only imagine having a person like that, stuck as your co parent. Not remembering most of last year outside of working online or Mr. Baby doesn’t disturb me. It is just something realized and kind of it is what it is feeling.

Disassociation has always been my strong default, clearly. It is the main thing that has kept me upright despite any circumstance. A willful ignorance perhaps. Amnesia is a blessing.

I had a dream about baby daddy the other day that severely disturbed me. When I looked it up it talked about how I was onto thriving, no longer just surviving. How my subconscious was loving him to balance the hateful suffering of my conscious awareness. I’m not sure how to navigate that. Although I cut my ex off many months ago, I still have baby daddy in my peripheral, and thankfully we never dated. He told me how much of a cunt second baby mama is. Gee, hard to imagine why she acts a certain way towards him. I wonder what the other mamas think. I wonder about if my baby will ever meet his half-sisters, one is 25, the other is 6 weeks younger than Mr. Baby. He has met his half-brother, 10 years older, but it is always this weird orchestrated feeling event.

Regardless, the lingerie will arrive, Mr.Baby is fine already, the person of thievery will likely not be caught, people will be more active online, I will get draino. The ratchet snow will melt and I will be free to walk around again.

Writing it, thinking it logically just doesn’t erode the crushing sadness or anger. What’s more important is where does that energy go from here?