…but because I realized I’m gonna be all right without you.

    Fuckin’ A, the melodrama recently. I’d like to have some more inspirational things going, but, sadly, that’s not the frame of mind I’ve been in of late. I’m trying to dissect the last two months of my life into something understandable and manageable.

    Here’s a breakdown: August 22, 2011, the slated Mrs. Jones and I go on a “trial separation”, on recommendation from my therapist. September 6, she gets it in her head that I’m lying about something and breaks up with me. September 8, I have an episodic reaction to one of my meds and end up in the Nevada desert with no recollection of how I got there. September 11, My brakes fail and I crash into a couple just moving into town. September 12, ex-almost Mrs. Jones decides to go make food while leaving my son in a bathtub with flowing water, subsequently causing a near drowning episode. September 13, Child Protective Services awards her custody because she will be living with her mother and I’m active duty military. Also, I get stuck with his medical bills.

    Following all of this, I don’t remember the dates, I get forcibly moved back into the barracks, I lose my apartment, my insurance won’t cover the entire cost of my accident, leaving me sans vehicle, and I still have not received a replacement for my sleeping meds.

    A subsequent side effect to being unable to sleep? I’ve slept, maybe, a total of 16 hours in the past month.

    Moral of the story? Don’t complain, you mother fuckers.