Good God, the street lights are on at 1:30 pm on yet another dark June afternoon.
I've been laying on the couch for days, only showering at night before going to meet friends for wine and conversation. It could be worse - I could have no friends.
I dropped Penny off at her friend's house on Friday and haven't talked to her since. I called up the mom last night to ask if she could stay another night. We had a bad connection so I didn't catch everything she said, but I'm sure a "yes" was in there somewhere.
What have I been doing while on the couch? Reading a novel called "Henny on the Couch" and also reading many, many blogs by ex-pat women living in Central America, the Middle East, Eastern Europe. I could spend many more days reading these blogs, looking at the pictures, wondering if I could live anywhere........where would I go?
I'd like to go everywhere, but probably won't go anywhere. Ever hear the saying "The roads of life are littered with flattened squirrels who couldn't decide fast enough which way to go" or something like that. (mabe I even read it on OS, can't remember.) I think about those squirrels a lot. It may be why I so impulsively started grad school last summer, even though there were so, so many different things I wanted to study or do.
On my counter right now are 2 jars of jams from an Amish farm. Penny bought them while on her church group biking weekend and every time I look at them I get an ache in my heart. She doesn't like jam, she bought them because she thought I would like them, and she picked them out and lugged them around and gave them to me.
Then she screamed and yelled about God knows what and found a thousand different ways to let me know she hates me. ATTACHMENT DISORDER. Maybe her therapist is right and her biggest fear is losing me. Waiting for something terrible seems worse than experiencing something terrible so she's trying to rush the process along and get it over with.
Thus my last post title of being a bad adoptive parent. I should be able to buck up and take her constant, shrill abuse. But I honestly feel that I can't. So Buck Up! I want to move to Panama: live cheaply and finish one of my writing projects. But parents put their kid's needs above their own. And on and on and on and on.
Meanwhile, the thought of having to pick up Penny and bring her home is freaking me out so much I've had the ringer off my phone all day.
I am flattened.