Anyone up for a novella?

I have one. My husband told me, "Fuck you, go blog." I did resist for awhile. But I have this insane desire to communicate, to understand and be understood.

So fuck me.

"You are full of shit. Your are wrong." Guess who he spent the last day and a half with. bitch princess. Last night I worked, today pee had a wrestling tournament that started with a drop off time of 600am. My lil king did not get home until after 11:00pm from picking up his piece of royalty. And pee promptly swooped in to rescue that dumb feral cat, who has been quite sweet and was communing with an extremely special cat, my familiar, Ghost, the cat he was set upon killing. Ghost was born in the wild last winter. How he survived in the woods on my farm is unbeknownst to me. Now, if you think about where feralness might come from, it would be from scratching survival as a kitten throughout the winter. Twice last winter my sons and newphews told me of a white kitten in the woods. I sort of did not believe it could be possible.
Then, last spring, he made himself known. I go out and, without wanting to freak anyone out, I gazze upon the moon many nights all night long from spring until the weather becomes too cold for me. The weather is not too cold yet. I spend many nights watching the moon cross the sky from its rise to its set. I know I'm weird, but I am driven to do so by something much larger than myself. Ghost came to my home, came to me. He had never been held by human hands, never been in a house, never eaten cat food or had water from a bowl. My horses have an automatic waterer, so the property is a natural draw for animals.
Ghost is a special cat, uncannily intelligent. He is a cat unafriad of water, curious about water, willing to step into water. Anyone who knows cats knows how rare this is. He and I press our foreheads together, spend long periods of time staring into one another's eyes (Ghost's eyes are pure amber). Most times when I am in need of Ghost and call to him, he comes (he still loves to go outdoors but he loves his indoor comforts, and I feel our craving of one another to be mututal).
Louie has terrified him since he understood that Louie can kick his butt in the blink of an eye. Louie is a pixie bob, 50% bigger than the average cat, princess has spun the lore that he is part bob cat. Now, I know he is not part bob cat. But my goodness, he certainly passes as such.
Louie went in for the declawing. This beast does not seem affected by it in the least, other than a key difference. Louie, seeming to understand his physical difference due to the declawing, used himself to reach out to the other cats socially. Playfully. Made peace with my Himmelyan.

This is Saturday night. Novella continues. Thursday night I rearranged my schedule with clients, which as a therapist YOU DON'T DO. Imagine being a client building yourself up, psyching yourself up for days for the session with your trusted therapist. Then, guess, what, she's not there. I saw all scheduled cliens and made it possible to see pee's first wrestling meet of the year. I whipped ass for over an hour breaking speed limits to get there.
pee ordered me to leave (not in a text to me, one only to his father. Damnnit, if you have a need from me just say it to me, rail it to me, just whisper it to me. Just let know. pee said to his dad, "I looked like a bitch out there." I understand what it means that he needs a mother to prove himself to. All three of them are punishing me to an emotional extreme to that is like He did it via text to his father. His father and I were in the stands completely engrossed in the meet. pee got his varsity ass handed to him by farm boys in retardsville. He comletely flipped out. He looked not worthy to the rest of the team not because he lost but because he sulked and flipped out and made the team look divided becase he sat there as such a sore loser. pee, you gained more than you lost by having your having your ass handed to you by these mutherfucking podunk country bumpkins. They wrestle cattle, throw hay bales and do real work. Did you really think the psuedo stupid status your untried dumb suburban former wrestling team would carry a candle to the raw and honest ability of these farm boys? Fucking think twice, son.
Nevertheless, it cut me to the quick. It was my very first experience attending a sporting event beyond t-ball. I was new and into it, wrestling is an intense one on sport that is full of heart and mental presence. My step son kicked me out. The more a step mother does, the more she is shit upon.
That night, a number of things happened. After I abruptly left the gym in tears, my very first experince of attending and being proud of my (step) son's membership and work within a team had a gross icing to its cake, I had no idea the night was just beginning.
He slammed the doors of my house. My lovingly picked out solid oak doors, the jams hand constructed and installed by my stupid ex husband. His room is the former nursery. Of course, no traces of the nursery exist, nor should they since it became his room. I caution myself, don't think too much. God they had fun ripping down all the nursery themed wallpaper and colors. They ripped them down. I never thought until now what was like for my boys. My boys continue their uniterrupted seeking to become family with his kids. How amazing is that, my children excuse them, retain openness to them, respect the horrible way those two left overs of slime have always treated them, and retain hope. After being dismissed to blog rather than talk, my little honey is asleep. I don't think his big balls are keeping my little king aware. Then princess swoops in yesterday, got home in time to bring pee to practice, they both knew it, knew through conversation that my husband had two hours between sessions to travel on what I think we will come to call swoop day, she's had his balls since. She sat here while my husnad flew to get pee to practice. I know there are members of this site that have lived this, that see this coming, and empathize. Oh god living it though. And I'm at my first real pass. Oh,I've yet to mention, that one thing pee said to me that awful night while totally stoned, is that no one around here does anything for him. Told ya' novella. . . .eeeaaahhhhy).
Ever made the bed for a stoned 16yr old stepson that most of my family thinks has a weird relationsiop with his sister? I am so angry, so upset. I am tired of not just being able to offer caring. Why does caring have to be a . . . doesn't matter.
Which is a messed up lot to be in.
This is really putting it all out for me, my heart wants life, I want ot grab hands and hold on to life. Tonight my partner told me in what I know is a real way to fuck off. I was frightened to do so, but I can. He can't resisit the odor of her. And I will never come between those things. '