Why is embarrassment so hard for me to deal with, and why can I not even spell it? I blame (not the right word, but yes it sort of is) my Father, who puts image before everything, his own physical well being, and mine. I was raised to look nothing less than perfect, never limp even if you only have one leg.
My ex, the real one, really fucked me up. There are some things that I can blame on him, and some things I can’t, but as I try to schedule a time into my day to bring the final papers to my notary and for the last time let him siphon another $75 (exactly .01% of what he previously stole, ironically) from me, I realize how I have turned away from monitoring my money because I didn’t want to acknowledge how much he stole. It sickens me that I can be so blind.
These were my thoughts as I looked down the steep sandy embankment towards the gathering waves… We were doomed, If not with the next wave, then the one after that. Or the one after that. Or we could run back, to where there was no water and we were doomed anyway.