In June

I broke up with my former Sir in March and spent April sorting through my world. June was amazing. My life was completely wonderful and fantastic in June of 2015.

I can’t adequately express June of 2015. It seems so far away.

I had the life I’d always dreamed I wanted. My house was clean. My laundry was done. The freezer was stocked. My bills were all paid up. I had a job I actually liked. I had quality friends. I surrounded myself with people that loved me.

My girls were really finding out who they were. They were great.

I had a healthy relationship with a woman I loved.

I had a lover and was entertaining a possible second lover. I even began the long process of forgiving myself and my husband for… Life.

In July I got my diagnosis.

I steadied myself by thinking of June. If I can just make it to next June…

In June of 2016 I had a new job I liked, I was recovering from surgery and chemo. I was rebuilding.

On June 1st my mother called me. On June 4th 2016 my brother died.

I spent the next 12 months recovering from a host of horrible things. I vowed that June of 2017 would be… Different. But my daughter moved out and I was depressed and nowhere near where I thought I’d be by June of 2017.

I had a relationship that should have made me happy. I had a family that loved me. I had a job I could tolerate. June of 2017 should have been the year I had my shit together. Instead it’s a blur of me waiting for the other shoe to drop. I spent the month randomly crying. Boo had been gone a year and I could not handle my life at all. I leaned on my Ex Daddy far more than I should have.

“Breathe. Just get to June of 2018. You can handle this.” I thought.

June 2018:

Boo is gone. He isn’t coming back. My car breaks and I really don’t have the money to fix it. I sign my divorce papers with no lawyer present knowing full well what I’m leaving on the table. I am quietly devastated and work to put myself back together. I wean off of the last of my medications.

My cousin, Traci died Sunday, of stage 4 metastatic breast cancer. She was 45. I can’t explain what this has done to me. I can’t begin to write this because the rage is too raw.

June 2019…….I can’t take anymore. Please have mercy.

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