Tuesday, March 10, 2009


I don't know why every night when I start home I get sick to my stomach. I just do. The whole drive home I am nauseous. I feel as if I am going to throw up and the thought of food is horrible. Every day.Mike is here each evening waiting for me and stays until about 9 p.m. so I am not alone then.

When I leave the house for any reason, on my way back I feel this same sickness. I find myself using up my cell minutes to talk to someone while I am driving, something that is a cardinal sin in my view. I never ever talk on the cell and drive. I forbid my sons to drive and talk on the cell with me in the car. I never allow it, ever. Yet now, every time I am in the car on my way home, I call someone to keep me from being sick. But it doesn't really work. I still feel sick.

After work I came home and then, I went and got Sarah and her parents. I took them to the park down the street for a bit and then took them back home. Same reaction. Heading home made me ill.

I don't know why. Dread maybe, of coming home. I don't have anywhere to go and no one to see. This is my home. . . was my home. I sit here looking around and listening. It isn't home anymore. I don't care about it anymore.

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