I am angry.

It’s been weeks now–weeks of this looming sense of manic rage.

I want to punch walls.  I want to break bottles.  I want to tear my own flesh off of my own body piece by piece.

I wouldn’t dare lose the remaining iota of control that I have by giving in, but I’ve been setting tiny fires with my words.  It doesn’t make the intrusive thoughts go away, but if nothing else, it’s damage control.

Continue reading I am angry.

I am no longer a wife.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been here.  A lot has changed.  My blog title, description, and username no longer have any relevance, and eventually, I will change those things to reflect that.  For now, they remain, because it was hard enough to get here in the first place–writing is my coping mechanism, my therapy, though; this is where I need to be. Continue reading I am no longer a wife.