Just keep swimming.

Divorce, is the worst. And yes I’m writing about divorce again, I was with Mr. Jones for 9 years, there is much to reflect on. So if you are looking for some happy, sappy shit, ya best look elsewhere.

I was doing relatively OK with this whole process until this past Saturday when I finally moved all my stuff out of his house. I let him keep that shit. I took Mini me’s furniture, and the stuff I was using while I was living in the guest room for the last few months.

Of course there was a scene. As dramatic as you may think I am, I don’t have shit on Mr. Jones. He always has to cause a fight or a scene…but for the first time ever, I stood up for myself. I told him that I was done being nice and letting him walk all over me. And if he wasn’t respectful when it comes to me I’m going to properly fuck his world up. I was so angry y’all. I’ve never been that mad at him in my life. I took my shit, my son and I left.

All that anger, made me realize how much I used to truly love that man. He was my entire world. Where in the fuck did we lose that?

Once I was alone in my new place, it happened. My already broken heart, broke again. Hard. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the major change, or being alone, or maybe all of it. I’m sure it was all of it.

I have cried for 3 days straight. Yesterday I even called out of work, because the thought of looking at one damn guest at work made me sick. My eyes were nearly swollen shut. I felt completely defeated. I was sitting in my bed, wearing my Giant Jackie Onassis sunglasses in my underwear, sobbing and petting my dog when, in walks my friend Henry. He had come over to return something, he took one look at me and said “nope, we’re not fucking doing this shit today ‘Delia, get the hell up, we’re getting you out of this house”…

So, he scraped me out of bed, fed me, took me to Priscilla’s to go get a couch for my condo. He helped me move some shit, smoked me out, brought me home and hugged me every time I needed it yesterday. Don’t know what I would do without my friends. I’d probably mummify alone in my room wearing huge sunglasses in my underwear.

I’m back at work today. I’m trying to make it through but it’s rough. I’m like a robot server, I’m on complete auto pilot. The only thing keeping me in reality is messing around with De Voss and Mike in the side station, and being obscene. It makes no sense to you if you have never worked in a restaurant. It’s just something we do.

And I’m working a Double. FML.

Just want to go home and pass out.