Sorry for the lack of posting lately, but I've been through alot this past week.
And I don't say that lightly.
I was looking for a nice and or subtle way to put it, but there isn't any, so I'll just get it out there and get it over with:
The husband and I are no longer together.
I'm still living at the house at this point, but that's a temporary thing.
In my head I'm already gone, though. The rest is just minor details.
I'm not going to get into what happened -- not yet anyway. It will all come out soon enough --every last ugly tidbit of it. But those are stories that will come later.
(Although to give you a clue, you should know that history has a way of repeating itself.)
No time for tears. No time for regrets. No time for wallowing in self-pity.
All that can (and most likely will) come later.
Right now I just need to get out.
That's my main objective.
My Prime Directive.
I've already started packing, and I've already scoured the paper looking for apartments, but haven't found any that suit my needs (i.e. not too pricey, in a decent area, not a roach-infested dump).
I know several people with cars and I'm sure if I beg and plead I can find people that can help me move.
It'll happen -- and soon.
I'm prepared to fight (if I have to) for custody of Rico. I don't know if I could take not having him in my life. I love that dog so much --he is like a child to me!
(I think I'm more choked up at the prospect of losing Rico than I am my husband.
That's pretty fucked up.)
My minds a horrible jumble at this point, so forgive the lack of coherence.