It hasn’t been one of my better weekends.
Between the repairs that my car needs being more costly and time-consuming than I had expected and what was supposed to be a quick trip to see my family turning into a much longer one (yes, the two are connected) and the uncomfortable feelings about my family that I always end up feeling when I’m around them for very much time at all…well, I’m ready for Monday.
I had Friday off from work, and I decided to go to my parents’ on Thursday night so that my dad’s mechanic could fix my car. I hoped to be on my way back home by Friday afternoon. Well, the best laid plans and all that, I guess. And I still don’t have my car (I’m driving something borrowed).
I am left feeling tender with some old wounds uncovered. I am left feeling uneasy about my own thoughts and feelings. I am left wishing that I could have my three day weekend back.
I had some interesting realizations. Not blog-worthy, necessarily, but I feel like I’m putting the pieces together to a puzzle called, “Why I ended up with an emotional abuser.” So a couple more pieces slipped into place.
This is hard.