My emotional state is still far from stable. Today I need to harvest honey from the Austin hives. The Austin hives sit in what is getting harder and harder to think of as the family homestead. Officially I still live there with my husband and my younger son and his family are still welcome there. Officially. In practice, my eldest son (34) and his screeching f-bombs rule. Even my husband's presence is barely tolerated within my son's unpredictable need for --- whatever his whatever of the day is. The boundary he has set for me is simple. I am not allowed to speak. Ever. Not anywhere on the property.

Girl howdy, I could get on that Narcissist bandwagon on his behalf!! But I am resisting the urge to play diagnostician. The simple fact is that the man chooses to remain go it alone... It is not him. It is the world. There is always someone or something else to blame. The family keeps moving ever further from the homestead in self-defense. Bombs away, our f-bombing tyrant. We love you, but...

Normally I would have packed up the harvesting equipment last night so that I could be off on the two hour drive immediately after I battened down the hatches this morning. As it is, my own emotional instability has me unable to focus on anything pragmatic. Last night found me too depressed to get off the couch. The dread of carrying my personal struggles onto the f-bomber range is only the icing on the fecal cake.

Hoping the act of writing it out will help me focus enough to stay on task and do what needs to be done. Prayers welcome.