Saturday, March 11, 2017

Nothing Changes

We did move to Michigan.

It sucks.

My mother lives less than a quarter mile away, and when she has any free time or energy she spends it examining my life and telling me what to do. When I don't do what she wants, she frequently comes over and does things "for" me, often when I'm not home so she doesn't have to argue with me.

The best news on that front is that my grandfather is very ill, and she has no time left to molest me and mine.  The worst news on that front is that he is liable to die, and then she will have free time again.

The people here are, in fact, the kind who vote for Trump. They are ignorant fucksticks, like as unto our president himself. I wish I could say something like "But they have big hearts!" but they don't. They're racist and zenophobic and miserly. They take and they don't give. They're proud to be bigots in public again. To be fair, even if I didn't live here where it's all up in my face, I would probably find the political happenings equally horrific.

It is cold. We do have a stove, and we ARE warmer here. The house IS smaller and easier to clean. I have yet to mow the lawn here, and I never will, as grod is my witness. We are raising our own meat, our goats are off getting some loving as I type, and chickens will happen this year. Hopefully gardening will too.

Depression is my buddy here. I have been doing a lot to try and learn my way out of it. You might be able to tell I haven't met with complete success.

I have no job. The man I am married to has no job. I do volunteer tutor at the local library, volunteer as a 4-H art club leader, and I'm always taking the girls places. I keep busy. Somehow I never manage to get enough done on the house and yard, so nothing new there really.

My health has sort of plateaued. It is not as good as I need it to be, so nothing new there either.

We've been here a year now. I feel no need to celebrate. In fact, every holiday feels like a slap in the face. I don't feel like I have anything to celebrate, and much to mourn. Then I feel guilty because so many have so much more to mourn. This is how depression works.

I suppose this is this year's post. A year of living in what mom calls "my little piece of heaven" (FUCKING HA! AS IF) can be summed up as "That sucked".

See you next year, assuming we haven't gone to war with China and had the interwebs EMPed out of existence.