"Missive From The Mrs."

Hello, Folks and Folkettes:

The Mrs. here. The Big Guy didn't post yesterday because he was too depressed. The newspaper article about Lucifer wanting take control of Celestial Services bummed him out. He slept all day Sunday, then woke up grumpy because he missed yet another day of the Law and Order marathon.

I thought I would try my hand at blogging because my therapist, Dr. Pat. suggested I needed a creative outlet. I haven't asked The Big Guy for permission, which is a big step for me in my journey to focus on my own goals and autonomy. This may be hard for you to understand, but I get so frustrated because it seems every time I make a step forward in asserting myself, I feel it's so easy to get pulled back into going along with whatever Big Guy or Son wants even if it conflicts with what I want. A perfect example is when I let Son have my yoga room when he decided to come home. I'm still kicking myself over that.

So, try as I may, I find it very difficult not to get sucked into The Big Guy's depression and moods, so I couldn't muster the energy to post here, either. Frankly, after "The Earth Thing", neither of us has been able to trust that we can ever do anything right again or achieve peace of mind. Magi, Son's anoerexic girlfriend, told me our problem is that we are not "spiritual" enough and advised us to chant a positive mantra every day. Well, The Big Guy's idea of a mantra is staring at the M&M's in the vending machine at work and muttering, "Don't get stuck on the rings again; don't get stuck on the rings again; don't get stuck on the rings again" after he's deposited his money, and mine, directed at Son, is "Get a job; get a job; get a job". Looks like neither of us will be hitting the best seller list with uplifting stories about conquering the dark night of the soul thing anytime soon.

OK. Time for me to get back to The Plague Room to finish my laundry. Later, kids.

The Mrs.