Well. While driving around the city with my sister last I was taking some fantastic photos... they started off being steady, but as I reflected on the last two days I ended up with feelings instead of objects.Really what I am saying is that on Saturday the shit hit the fan. I really don't know how to describe it, so I won't. I will say that my dad pushed some of my buttons, and I expressed it, and then he fucking flipped. His flip hit a really deep hidden nerve inside me, and I think I cried for about an hour... in front of them... blabbed a bunch of shit out... kept going... and ended up being blamed for "not keeping the peace"... which prompted more sobbing... the visit hasn't been so good since then.
There are pockets of good moments, and little dips into fucking hell. I feel like my father is bringing on most of the bullshit, but now that I expressed emotion, my mom has joined into the insanity. If I went into the entire story it would be long and boring.
During all of this I have being keeping my eating pretty good. I had a few gingerbread men too many, and have avoided the home situation by eating out a couple of time (with decent choices). It is really hard, and my heart is hurting.
I REALLY REALLY APPRECIATE those of you who have been stopping by, and I hope that when I get home I can catch up with those special people.
Lots of love your way.
