A year ago today I posted this. I was miserable and anxious to meet my little man. I helped our neighbor go get her husband's birthday present. Had dinner with my hubby when he got home. Boo-hooing because I was going to have to wait a WHOLE 'NOTHER WEEK and have to be induced and blah, blah, blah. All the while totally not expecting that I would go into labor that very night...
I’m having a panic attack. These stupid meds are killing me. I hate them. Stick with it, stick with it, stick with it. I know it’s the meds. I just have to get through this and relax for a couple weeks. I hate this job. It’s not even that bad it’s just HORRIBLY boring. I don’t want to do this every day. I appreciate learning the process and gaining experience but it’s not what I like to do. I don’t even like accounting that much to begin with but there are aspects I like and I know it. The pay is killing me. I need money. I can’t continue to be completely broke before the first week of the month is over. Collections calls ringing all day. I’m applying to jobs like crazy. I’m trying so hard. I’m just going to keep pushing forward. Keep. Pushing. Forward. I hate that I wanted a life with Jason. That I was too blind to realize what he was. That I was ok with him even from the very beginning when I knew better. Why didn’t I want better things for myself? Seeing him makes me want to vomit.
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