Come one, come all...

Aimee's throwing herself a pity party and you're all invited.

I'm in one of those "just fuck it" moods again.

I've come to the conclusion that any form of normality has become my enemy. I swear, I just can't catch a break and with all the stress, I'm more than likely flirting with a fucking ulcer. And wouldn't that be fabulous?

Anyway, I spent a good amount of time yesterday on the phone with Cameron's pediatricians office, our insurance agent, etc. trying to figure out what my new insurance company's protocal is for getting him in to see a behavioral health expert for counseling as well as trying to determine whether or not he has Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (which was implied because of certain symptoms he exhibits).

And you know, I'm extremely disgusted with myself because I've known that he needs counseling for a while, long before Drew and I split up but I hesitated because I, myself, resent it, which is completely irresponsible and just fucking stupid because Cameron isn't me and I shouldn't have kept him from getting something he needs because of my resentment towards it. I mentioned recently that I felt like a fuck-up in the parenting department, well, that feeling just keeps getting bigger and bigger. But (and this in no way excuses my irrisponsibility) I could really use a little help here. I always try (to the best of my ability) not to say anything derogatory about Drew because (a) he's Cameron's father and (b) despite all of our problems with each other, I still love him but its' gotten to a point where I need him to get over whatever resentment he's still harboring about our separation and realize that I need his help. Badly.

Aside from the problems I'm having with Cameron, my (ex) sister-in-law recently made some accusations about something I'm not going to give credence to by discussing and in doing so, dragged my child smack into the middle of something he had no place in the middle of. I handled it but it burns my ass that I had to be the polite, responsible, non-confrontational adult in the situation when all I wanted to do was tear her a new asshole for attempting to use my son as a tool in her twisted vendetta. The whole thing with her makes me fucking sick and is just not something I needed thrown at me right now.

Oh and my mom informed me yesterday afternoon that the doctor told her she needs to have surgery (possibly before Christmas). She's been having some serious problems in her abdominal area so the doctor order some scans and they found something when they reviewed the results. And of all the crazy things to be concerned about, she's worried about Christmas dinner for pity's sake. Christmas dinner?!?! I don't give a blue blazin hell about Christmas dinner! But since it's important to her, I'll cook the whole damn thing myself if need be.

Well, there's more shit I could bitch about but I've already thrown myself a big enough pity party and honestly, bitching about this shit really accomplishes nothing so what's the point.