It's not you, it's me

I have tried to write this post every day for the last week and just couldn't get the right words to come out. Maybe it's because I don't have any words left. I don't know. I just know I suck at goodbyes.

So how should I do this? The way most guys broke up with me? Silence, ignoring me until I gave up and went away? Nah, not my style. Write something so egregiously depraved that makes all y'all hate me enough to break up with me? Couldn't think of anything that bad that y'all would believe, so that's out. So we'll go with the old tried and true break up line: It's not you, it's me.

I don't know what it is, if it's apathy or exhaustion, but I just can't muster enough of anything to share. Everything online sucks. It's sad, angry, horrible, depressing. And you can access it with better commentary just about anywhere out there. The memes don't even make me giggle anymore. I don't see anything funny to share, and I refuse to share anything that's meh. So, we've just run out of things to say to each other, it happens, yeah?

It's not you, it's me.

I started this blog almost five years ago, come this November to be exact. I was in a much different state of mind, different life, different needs, different dreams. It was started in response to wirecutter's demand that I start one to keep me off of his. He was tired of me hijacking it with my witty comments. As many of you have noted, our back and forth was something to behold. But he's lost interest in backing, so it makes it kind of boring for me to go forth. The friendship is still there, it's just one of those dormant things. But a large part of the fun for me was our give and take. I've missed it for a long time, I'm just now realizing how much a part it was of the life of this blog. Life goes on, but sometimes in a different direction.

It's not you, it's me.

This has been one of the roughest summers for me with Teen Queen. It's taken a heavy toll on me mentally, physically and emotionally. The transition from school to the sheltered workshop hasn't taken place yet, and TQ's anxiety has reached epic levels resulting in some of the most violent meltdowns we've ever experienced. My job with her is to keep her and everyone else safe until she regains control; I can usually do this with minimal damage to either of us. But this summer, she's gotten bigger/faster/stronger and I've gotten older/slower/tireder (I know it's not a word, but dammit, it's a word.) I know if this doesn't work, I'm out of options. I can't care for her with the intensity of the meltdowns she's having. I'm almost 52; in ten years, I'll be 62, she'll be 32. 72 to 42. 82 to 52. One of us will die before then. So that's one of the things draining me.

It's not you, it's me.

Just know that I've enjoyed getting to know y'all over the years, sharing my life with you. Sharing ups and downs and laughs and tears. I do consider you friends and family. But it's time to call it a day. They always say go out on top, yeah? I'll leave it up for the archives, but there won't be any further posts.

I wish good things and a few weird things for all of you. Good things to make you happy, weird things to remind you of me.

Hugs to all,

Angel