I finally finished grad school a bit over a week ago. Feels good, if a bit anti-climactic. Everyone at work keeps asking how I plan to celebrate, and honestly, I don’t know. I can’t count on DH to do anything for me, even though he asked half a dozen times throughout the past year what I wanted to do. I said, “No party. Dinner out with family,” and… annnd… Great big NADA. I’ll just treat myself to something nice. New clothes, maybe.

If I had any faith in him, I’d probably be hurt, but I have learned to take most things he says with a grain of salt. Speaking of which, school started the week before last, and he expressed a desire to reserve his drinking for weekends only. I just smiled and said, “Sure, cool. Whatever you think is best.” He’s “quit” drinking more times than I’ve bothered to remember. This one lasted exactly one week. We got a message from DS’s new teacher saying he’s been struggling with behaviors–4 days into school. He’s autistic. It’s going to be a roller coaster every time he faces new changes. DH used that as an excuse to dramatically flip out–like we’re the only parents to EVER get a call home–and run out for a bottle. I was just like, “Whatever you wanna do. Just stop acting like such a bitch and stressing me out”. In my head, of course, because he’d have a Victim-Palooza if he ever heard some of the venom in my brain. Poor, poor Husband/Father-of-the-Year is so abused by his ungrateful harpy of a wife… “I’m not going to overdo it,” DH assured me. “I’m just having a couple”. Yet, he upgraded to 101 proof, like I wouldn’t notice. He’s back to drinking daily. I say nothing because Al-Anon has taught me to let him fuck up.

Anyway, I’ve been struggling with rage, anxiety, depression…everything. It’s been determined that I have reached perimenopause, and now I’m on two new anti-anxiety/anti-depressants, plus hormone replacement therapy. I got off the Celexa, because I was gaining too much weight–30 lbs in he past 2ish years. Now that school is done, I’m trying to get my stress, hormones, and weight back under control. I miss the mom I used to be. I’m going to get her back. I also miss the firm, round little booty I had after my big weight loss. I want that back, too.

I also want one of my co-workers to hurry up and retire (now, instead of next summer) so I can take her job, now that I finally have the credentials to do so. I need my moods to be under control, because my supervisor already told me she and her supervisor want me to take that job. Nothing in writing, of course, so I’m not placing all my eggs in one basket until I see an official offer. Still promising.