Shards

 Everything lately has sharp edges.

I'm doing hard things, which would be enough on its own, but that I'm doing it while depressed and suffering bouts of PTSD is something miraculous.

The problem, though, is that this particular broken toy is simply running out. Of energy. Of patience.

Of time. 

I'm stripped of the network that kept me afloat the last 15 or so months. It's not anyone's fault. Well, it kind of is, but things happen for a reason, and maybe I was too comfortable, anyway. And I'm finding that no one would really get the *why* behind what I'm feeling.  I find lately it's easy to just blame myself and my insanity and call it a day. 

The struggle is real. 

I don't even know where to start. 

Maybe with the asshole down the street. Who said "There goes the retarded dog and its owner." Same dad to the kid who was in the car who said the same thing about the mom and her two retards.

Ten years ago. 

Last week. 

It's all of a piece to me because the visceral response is the same. 

One of many reasons I take the provisional quadruped out of the neighborhood to walk. But I still have to run a gauntlet to get out of the neighborhood. 

My whole life I have been accused by different people at different times that I invite the trouble, that I did something to deserve it/provoke it/make it happen, when all I'm trying to do is live my life and mind my own business. 

That it's still happening....and that I even *care*... is chewing away at me. 

I'm a breaker of things, a maker of relationships, a taker of chances, but really all I want to do right now is to hide under my weighted blanket and stay there. 

Everything weighs on me. 

Especially my kids. 

Also the dog. 

Who needs a new home.