Hayley is here.
Who is she? She is a three-day old infant that my husband acquired and I only found out when I had to sign the adoption papers. He’s not even here today. He left last night for his ex’s birthday bash, which is today. Tomorrow is DW’s birthday. I have no idea what to get the kid. I am baking him a cake though. DW doesn’t like me. The feeling is almost mutual. But I’m getting side-tracked.
Hayley. She has those same golden-hazel eyes as my husband. It seems strange, especially since in August, around the time that Hayley was conceived, my husband was in Queens, looking at apartments for us. Hayley was born in Queens. It just seems too coincidental. I called him when she arrived, and I asked if he wouldn’t mind getting a DNA test done on her. He agreed. So Monday we’re going to the DNA center. He says that there is no way that she is his daughter, but he wants to put my mind at ease. He was too easy going about it, if you ask me.
I’ve made DW and my mother cakes today. That’s a start, right? At least I’m not in bed with my depression. I’ve been working out some and I smell too badly to lay in bed right now. 
However, talk about being a bad mother: I’m letting Chloe and DW make me a Mother’s Day cake right now. A four year old and a seven year old. I’ve only heard three crashes and two screams since they started though!
Last year we revisited my past of 19 years ago. Today, I have known my husband for twenty years. We started out as childhood friends and then progressed to teenage lovers. It wasn’t over night, and we’ve traveled down a long, winding road that was full of forks, full of bumps, full of hardships. But we overcame it all. I don’t know many people who can say they still have someone in their lives they met when they were nine years old.
Normally, I’m anticipating anniversaries long before they happen, birthdays too. But this year I was so focused on something else that I didn’t even notice that it was our anniversary until my husband came in and told me he had reservations for us. We’re going to go out for dinner and then have a night alone. I wonder if we’re going to try for a new record 
No more deprivation for me!
Before I slip off into the night of a thousand pleasures, I should post a picture of the huge spider that stalked me today:
I think it was poison. I didn’t kill it, but I scooped it in a bowl and tossed it out the front door. I haaaate spiders! I hate dealing with spiders. I hate dealing with any animal (bug, reptile) that is in a category with poisonous members. I don’t mind wild mice, rats, dogs, cats, but poison reptiles and bugs? Yep, that’s right there at the top of my list of things to avoid.
The baby sitter is secured. We’re off for the night. Don’t wait up.
Milestones
Long day today.
I accomplished something I think was a huge step: I drove again for the first time. It’s been a little over a week, and by a little I mean down to just a few hours, since I’ve driven a car. It was Lance’s car. It was dusk when we piled in. I was a little scared, and he put on Wham! songs. I just can’t be depressed listening to Wake Me Up Before You Go Go. It’s not natural for me. We went to buy my husband something for his birthday. I’d taken Chloe along because she really wanted to buy her daddy something for his birthday. She’s been saving up pennies and money we’ve found in the streets, and she had all of $3.24. I felt a little sad at her for thinking she could get anything for her daddy with that little amount of money. Maybe a Starbucks small coffee? He’d sure like that, though! 
I’m not going to tell what I bought my man, because it’s wrapped and I’ve been getting weird hits from a local IP, but I have a picture:
Cute, no?
At school, it was free t-shirt day. I got one for my dad. I’m going to take it over to him tomorrow. I got this little bear, too:
I named him “Danny Bear” after my (asshole!) doctor. But only because my doctor’s vanity plates read: “DannyBoi” in some variation. It makes me giggle and roll my eyes at the same time.
I’m sure that sooner or later the bad part of today is going to circulate somewhere. I shared with some of my close friends, but we all know how emails get passed around like …. prison currency, right? Especially if they contain something juicy. Which mine did. I will say that I am being emotionally tortured, and I can’t tell anyone that I normally can because they’re all busy with my husband’s birthday. Even his ex is in town, in our house right now, making him a birthday cake. My back was against the wall and I did something stupid. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted some relief. I’m not sorry that I did it. I’ll probably do it again and again until it eventually does what I wanted it to do on that whim. Yes, I know, I suck. It’s the life of a clinically depressed pessimist. I smile and seem happy on the outside but inside I’m still curled up on the floor, sobbing. Hell, I cried the first day of class this semester. I cried after wards. Sean told me I cried when I got my IVs. Don’t worry about me. I’m still here.
Mental note
Didn’t know I was a cheap slut for having sex with my husband. Thanks for the reminder, mother. I can really tell you’re showing off for one of your cheap friends.
I was talking to a friend today who reminded me that my husband is throwing his ex a birthday party for him in May. She complimented me on how calm I was about the whole thing. How I had nerves of steel. No honey, it’s not nerves of steel, it’s the coke, it’s the pills. Seriously, I’m crying inside.
Thank You For The Concerns
To those of you who sent me emails yesterday/this morning (90 emails! I don’t think I’ve ever gotten that many personal emails in one day before!!), thank you. I read the article when I was in the hospital last month, and it upset me then, as does it today. There’s really nothing I can do. He’s bad-mouthed me to the press before, and he’ll do it again in the future. What can I do? Since this was an article, he kept arguing with me that I was “reading it wrong”. I don’t know how I could have been reading it wrong, but I guess so. There’s no use fighting over it now.
Deeper
The sadness won’t go away. I feel isolated and trapped. I tried to reach out to several friends today, and the only one who didn’t flat out ignore me picked a fight with me and we had a falling out.
*sigh*
When did it get so complicated? Why is it so complicated? I know I am blessed, I know I am loved, I know Dennis won’t be away forever, but I have this sense of dread and lonesomeness that just overwhelms me. Then I have these super-hard, super-hardcore labs that are due every single day between now and April 2end. Eight pages of handwriting each. It’s enough to drive me crazy! Today I didn’t even finish the lab–I was a couple of pages short. On the first new lab. What the hell is wrong with me?
I found out that Dennis has gone through a thirty count bottle of Seconal in about six days. That’s too much too soon. He emailed me a text asking for the prescription number so he can get it filled overseas. I told him that I didn’t know where the bottle was–after I seen the refill date was February 15th. When I confronted him about this, he said it takes about six pills for him to relax. WTF?? I think it’s time that the family doctor and I had a little talk.
I’m off to bed. Nothing else much to say.
Just a little blurb that I discovered today.
Dennis’ Seconal pill bottle–the one with 99 refills at 30 pills per refill–was in the refill basket today.
He’s taken thirty pills in twelve days. And he wants more. And if I don’t refill them tonight at an all-night pharmacy, he’ll gladly do it on his way to the studio.
Tell me he doesn’t have a problem.
While you’re at it, tell me everything will be ok.
Jamie aka: The being known as Wonder Girl, 30, mother of four, wife to one, she is a senior biomedicine student who is learning to fit in in the world around her. After nearly three decades on this planet, she still doesn't know where she belongs. Best friend of Matt, sarcastic, spoiled, apathetic, kutie brat, babe. Just your average woman, living in a not-so-average world, surviving by her incredible super power of being able to see right through you while
accomplishing more tasks than you ever thought imaginable. She is the being known as Wonder Girl and she is speaking, I believe. More? Aren't you brave!
