Echoes.

My anger is taking over today.
It’s not so much any one thing as it is this never being able to get ahead.
The anchors in my life aren’t so much guides to safe havens as my own personal versions of a metal albatross – each heavier than the last.

I want to scream at various people for various indignities… some more ridiculous, some more deserved, some simply unchangeable.

“The brake fluid and its condition has nothing to do with the condition of your actual brakes.”
Uh huh.  I wonder what the master cylinder would say to that.
But it doesn’t matter, because they have to be replaced and no matter the spiel you give me about how the material of your shoes are better than the material of everyone else’s, both you and I know I’m getting screwed.
You don’t know enough to know HOW I’m getting screwed, but I do – and I know JUST enough to know there’s not much I can do about it.

And Save the Dates?  No.  I don’t have Save the Dates.
I have mini super casual wedding invitations.
Boy, I love how much escapes my notice these days.
The first time around, that part was correct and names and cities were incorrect.
This time, that part was left off entirely.
And while this is more amusing than anything else, it goes on the list of baby albatrosses because it simply IS at this point, because I noticed it AFTER mailing out 150 of the damned things.

And my weight.
Hello inspirational story about a woman who almost died because she weighed too much and finally woke up and got her life together and now weighs 160.
Her too much was 230.
Congrats to her for losing the weight.  Really.  Because for some of us it’s pretty darned hard.
Say – the people who spend 3 months eating lettuce and water, working out 5 days a week and gaining 9 pounds.
Oh, and if I hear one more person tell me it’s muscle weight and I’m losing inches.
Nope.
Same inches.
Different texture, sure.
But considering I can’t fit into any of my clothes and could take down my fiance with a good cannonball, this isn’t such a consolation prize.

And my daughter leaving for the summer.
No custody decisions, nothing.
Leaving to sign up for months of fake influence and happy-go-lucky every day, which makes me look like the overzealous disciplinarian that is out only to ruin her life and make texting after 9 at night much too difficult.
Having to listen to everything I do wrong.
Having to listen to everything Nick does wrong.
Twisting at turning at the hands of two people that want nothing more than to dangle this puppet to their own tune for the next few years.
Not bothering to get to know what’s underneath.
Not bothering to allow her to form her own opinions or to learn her own lessons.
I want so much more for her than that and there’s nothing I can do to stop the assault.

And my neck is cracking under the weight of today and soon I won’t be able to move at all.
Limbs still underneath this giant incapability to save the person I love most or to even control tiny situations.
Like 13 months too long for a 12 month warranty.
Or $300 unrecyclable paper with the wrong wording.
Shoes that are too tight.
Clothes that are too tight.
This rock and that rock having kicked the hard place’s ass and forging a wall around me.

One that I can see and feel and touch and smell today.
I can’t imagine it away today.