Weathering the storm.

This post is going to be absolute shit. I promise.
As I am drunk. I'm broken, and I'm drunk.
It's been a tough summer so far. I went into this summer knowing that I would not be doing the camp that I have dedicated the last 22 summers of my life to, due to politics with the new priests in that community. My decision to not be affiliated with the camp this year was an incredibly difficult one to make. I do not care for, nor agree with, the direction the new priests are taking with the camp, and will not put my name on it. But in taking a stand against what I believe to be wrong, it also means that I have had to give up my kids. I love these kids, more than they will ever know. And I have to trust that they will have the strength and knowledge to know what is right and what may need a second opinion on the new lessons that are coming their way. I was offered the director position for a camp nearby, and while it did manage to fill a huge area of my empty heart, there is still the absence of the camp that has been my home over the years.
Right before the summer started, already mourning the loss of my camp, I also lost my job of the last five years. Though I had been burned out the last year, I had truly loved my job, and the company I worked for. I used to be the favorite, even though it seemed that the gild had been off this lily for several months, though I don't believe my performance had faltered. I was terminated because I made a stupid mistake on a technicality two months before that I had no knowledge of, and isn't listed anywhere. While I understand the termination in some ways, in many ways it has left me baffled. I had never had so much as a single write up, and the stupid mistake really does not seem to have been enough to where they could never deal with me again. Did it make me that horrible of a person? The month after I was gone, the store I had been managing did horrible numbers in comparison to what I had brought in. It still seems weird to me that an honest ridiculous mistake should make everyone suffer. What good did it do? I still have a hard time waking up knowing that the company I loved so much doesn't want me. That they don't view me as being the best person to work with my crew or the clientele that I brought in. And the fact that I have been having an incredibly difficult time finding a new job just rubs salt into the wound. Two months later, and I've only had a handful of interviews, only one of which is promising, and I can't even afford to take it. Too little money, too far away, too close to the open wound.
When I got home from the camp I directed, my mom informed me that they are putting my childhood home up for sale. Two weeks from now. While I understand the reasoning, and respect their needs, I'm not going to say that it is an easy pill to swallow. I've had a way of life that I have been very used to, and in three months time, much of it has been ripped out from under me. And even with all of it, while devastated, I've been putting on a calm, good face, and coping as best I can.
Until today.
Today I lost it.
Today I went to my parents to help with things, and my mom ridiculed me in front of her neighbor and the girl that she has clean her house. My mom had asked me to come help yesterday, and I spoke with her telling her I would come today. I had horrible cramps yesterday (at times I get them to where they annihilate anything I would consider doing with my body, like sitting up or standing), and I was on muscle relaxers because of them. Apparently my mom didn't hear what I said, because when I got there today, she humiliated me, and basically told me to leave. This is extremely upsetting because my mother rarely listens to what I have to say. Whenever I try and tell her a story, she'll cut me off and start into something else completely. My sisters notice it often. When I got back from camp, I was so excited to tell her that I had been given a youth director position at the church. Hoping she would be proud of me, and that she would want to hear about what I had the kids do at camp. Instead, she spent our time telling me about her bills, and informed me that they would be selling the house in two weeks. I did not leave my parents house knowing I had made my mother proud, instead I left my parents house that day with a broken heart. My mom couldn't care less about what I had done with the kids at camp. So today, when my mom had treated me so horribly, simply because she, once again, didn't listen to me, it broke the dam. All the sadness, loss, upset, and devastation that I had been holding at bay surfaced. I sat in my car, on the way home, in tears, screaming at whatever cars decided to pass me or get in my way. For the first time since I had been coping with all of this, I did something completely irresponsible. I went to the store and bought a crap ton of alcohol and a loaf of French bread with money I didn't have. Then I went home and drank a bottle of wine and ate the loaf of bread. And sat down to write in my dating blog about everything that doesn't have anything to do with dating (believe me, that's not going well, either).
But hey. At least I went to the gym today, before it all went to hell. At least there's that.