Totally. Freaking. Out. Right now.
So...the apartment complex that I live in has had a cockroach problem for yeeears (my sister used to live in a different building out here, and she had them BAD). When I was signing the lease, the manager warned me about it; she said it makes no difference whether a person's apartment is spotless or a pigsty, the cockroaches will come in. Supposedly the building I live in hadn't ever reported a problem with them- so she told me not to worry about it.
I keep this place pretty stinkin' clean- floors and surfaces are always clean, dishes are done (nearly) every night, trash goes out quick (if it doesn't for some reason, I triple bag it because...diapers...gag).
A little while ago, I went in the kitchen to wash the dinner dishes, and TA-DA!!! Big black beetley bug crawls out from under a pan. I blasted it with scalding water and sent it down the garbage disposal with a large dose of bleach that was unnecessary but made me feel better before I could determine if it was actually a cockroach or just a nasty beetle that came in through the improperly screened window. I've seen cockroaches before; they don't get huge here...but I can't remember exactly what they look like.
I went on a cleaning rampage- threw out barely expired food in the fridge, took out the trash, washed dishes, bleached the whole kitchen and the bathroom, vacuumed even though I just vacuumed this evening...I went crazy. A lot crazy. Didn't come across any other bugs except a moth who's been keeping me company while I watched music videos.
And when I ran out of things to clean, I started bawling. I still can't get it under control. I was already feeling all sad and pathetic, and then this...what kind of mother moves her kids into a place with a cockroach infestation? I just feel...really helpless. I know, it was just a stupid bug, but...what if there are more? I remember what it was like for my sister, it was a constant battle to keep the dang things out, it was horrible for her and she felt like a terrible mom and there wasn't anything much she could DO. I don't want to live like that. I don't want to live HERE.
And I'm angry, LIVID, that it's come to this at all. I had a HOME. I had...a husband, and my babies, and cats, and a vegetable garden and pretty flowers...and now I have...a two bedroom, south-facing, third-floor apartment that smells like the people that used to live here no matter what I do and gets too hot and will probably be crawling with cockroaches soon. It shouldn't BE this way! Why, WHY, could I not just ignore the problems, let words bounce off of me? Why couldn't he have just been...a MAN, and cared for us the way he should have? Why couldn't I just shut my stupid mouth and keep a smile plastered on my face and dealt with it?
I feel...cheated. Like I had found a beautiful, perfect piece of fruit, only to cut it open and find it was full of worms.
Every time I start feeling a little better, a little stronger, I get set back. I get angry or lonely or scared and...it's exhausting. I'm exhausted. I can't...I can't keep fighting so much at once. The anger. The fear. The temptation to just accept someone's offer of company, just to not be so damn alone.
Ugh, I got tears on the inside of my glasses. Bah. BAH!!
