NOTHING and EVERYTHING

WARNING: This post has NOTHING to do with weight and EVERYTHING about me bitching at the world.
 
Some days I want to run away. Run so far and so fast that the issues could never find me.

It started last night, when I felt like the shittiest mama in the world, because I had actually (GASP) ENJOYED some time away from my kids. But boy, did they let me have it once we all got home. Melt downs, screaming, whining. And the thought crossed my mind:

"I wish they were back at Mimi's (my mom's house). Obviously they like it there better." They had been very, very good at Mimi's. So, I guess they just don't want to be around me.

Yup. Shitty mom central over here.

Today has been an awful, terrible day at work. Now I have to go listen to a professor drone on for 2 hours, and then try desperately to make it to the last 45 minutes of a meeting that I will be lost in, because I have to miss the first 45 minutes.

FML

I've mentioned moving to Seattle before. My brother and his family live there, love it. I miss them. Sometimes picking up and moving sounds so amazingly perfect. A new start. Then, other times it's just terrifying. When the hubs and I first talked about it, we were really excited. Called our realtor and she gave us the bad news: We would never be able to sell our condo without a loss in that market (about 1.5 years ago). There was no way we could afford to take a loss, so we had to settle back down, concentrate on updating the condo, with hopes we could sell it in a year or two.

Except now hubby is NOT excited about it. As a matter of fact, he doesn't want to move at all anymore, unless it's to a house in our current town.

Deflated.

Not that I am totally convinced either, but I was casually checking one of the hospital's in Seattle for job postings, and I saw a job that would be freaking PERFECT for me. It was calling for me. BEGGING for me. I thought it was a sign. But, no. It's no sign. Hubby put a kabash on that right away.

I'm just tired. Tired of my schedule. Tired of working hard for patients who have no respect or courtesy for me what-so-ever. Tired of doing work two and three times, over and over and over. Tired of hoping and wishing and dreaming. Sometimes shit just doesn't go how your dream it's going to.

I'm so done. Yet I can't be done.

I have no more words.