Laughing and crying

We are being attacked by X-rated mosquitoes from hell. If I weren’t so sad I would be laughing hysterically. Every member of this household is walking around scratching their…er…um…genital areas AND their behinds (specifically the fork in the road area). For some insane reason the mosquitoes are zeroing in on these areas of our bodies with such zeal it’s just not NORMAL. The little buggers are practically invisible, you rarely see them and the itch is so intense. Etiquette and "lady-like" behavior took a bus to Timbuktu and we are all walking around the house scratching like animals.

It stopped being funny this morning around 9am when I went to bed and woke up an hour later scratching my arm with great fervor. I took a closer look at my arm and found NINE bites on my forearm alone. I also had several bites on my legs. The itch turned into a wave of fire that wouldn’t let me sleep. My sister suggested I take benadryl, which I did and easily fell asleep less than thirty minutes later. I kept sleeping and sleeping and more sleeping till 12:30 midnight! That amounts to almost 14 hours of sleep. Yuck. The worst part is now I’m so lethargic and I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mac truck.

As for the “crying” half of my subject title, I’ve once again started a cycle of depression. It’s probably more situational than cyclical. My BIL showed up last night (very late) said nothing to my sister and proceeded as if nothing was amiss. He went to bed, woke up this morning and left for work, still saying nothing to my sister. My sister was lying in her bed when I got up at midnight and she was crying. I felt stabbing pains in my chest to see her so defeated. She told me she wanted to die but she couldn’t do that to her daughter. A short time later BIL comes home, slightly stoned, and hands me a letter. It’s the results to a drug test he took the other day and it showed no negative results. Who the heck does he think he’s kidding! First, you can cheat on those tests and secondly, I know when someone is sober or not and he hasn’t been sober in weeks. I am flooded with so many feelings…anger, hate, sadness, betrayal, sympathy, heartache…it’s such a horrible life the addicted live. When my sister said she wanted to die, it’s sad to say my first reaction was one of anger. She REFUSES to admit her culpability in this muddle of muck that her husband and she started. She REFUSES to own up to her own addictions. My BIL will admit his addictions but he blames my sister. Vomit, gag, vomit!

To save myself (that sounds so freaking selfish) my husband and I have decided to move out in January (or sooner), no matter what our finances are. It will be cold enough to sleep in the car if we have to but it’s having an actual date to look forward to that is keeping us from stepping off the ledge of sanity. I feel tears welling up but I can’t cry.