The Motorcycle

My party was right around the corner.  The kids were leaving for the summer in just ten days and my party was shortly after that.  I was making plans for my party, working on the menu, and figuring out where everyone was going to sleep.  It was a happy day for me because I was making plans to see old and new friends alike.  Some of the women coming to my party were people who had provided real life support to me during the dark days of the divorce.  Other women were people I’d known only online who had provided virtual support and many prayers during those days.  I was so excited to be getting closer to my party that I was actually making concrete plans.  Then the children had their Skype visit with Bubba.

The kids are having their Saturday morning Skype call with Bubba.  I heard Shane say, “I have to go tell Mom!”  He comes running out to the living room and says, “Dad got a motorcycle!!!”  He was so excited about it.  It was a sucker punch to my gut.  To get confirmation that Bubba bought his precious motorcycle is just not something I needed today.  I was in a good mood.  It seems that every time I am in a ridiculously good mood, Bubba finds a way to fuck it up.  It is like he has radar.

Bubba fought so long and so hard to get all the money and to only give me the bare minimum of child support and then he goes out and buys a motorcycle!!!!  What an asshat!  This is just one more thing that goes to show he will NEVER change.  He will never stop being the immature, selfish abusing asshole that he is.

I’ve given myself an hour to be bitter about this.  There are so many big feelings that I need to work through and all I can feel is Fluffy.  He is in my throat and he is desperately trying to claw his way out.  His hot breath mingles with mine and I so very want to give him his day.  I can sit here and imagine taking that sledgehammer to that rock.  I can picture it and I can imagine the sweet release we are both going to feel when I allow Fluffy to rage.  

Yet, I’m still terrified that I’m going to lose myself in him.  I’m afraid if I unleash him and allow him to start destroying things, he’ll never shrink, never be caged again.  Freedom will taste as divine to Fluffy as it does to me.  I can’t allow him to get drunk on freedom the way I have.  Yet, I can’t contain him forever.  He is so close to the surface and I don’t know if I can keep him at bay for another 10 days.  He needs to be contained until the kids are gone.  I don’t want them to experience Fluffy in any form.  I allow them to see my healthy anger, the kind I express with words.  But Fluffy is another story.

Fluffy is bone-crushing aggression.  He is death and destruction.  He is rage so pure and so strong that, given free reign, he will be a spectacular sight to behold.  He wants out and he wants out NOW.

What Fluffy actually wants right now is to take a sledgehammer to that damned motorcycle. 

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