pity party

I just started blogging tonight, and it's opening up a flood gate,
So much emotion.
When I first moved back here, to Staten Island, I was pretty good about crying regularly, and addressing head-on what I was dealing with.  As time goes on, it gets easier to pretend life is normal... Bring J to school, play with R... yadda yadda.
 It's tough to remind myself of the reasons why I'm here. In my parent's house.
Things were bad. Really bad. Like, life threateningly bad.  It's crazy. It's crazy that when your everyday life becomes a scary drama, how quick you can accept that as your reality.
There was  a time, when I had an elaborate escape plan in my mind that was ready to go at a second's notice.
The plan was:  When the bad guys (aka, charlie and his side kicks, which were the mob goons hunting my husband for their money)  .....when they broke in, I would grab the two boys and run down to the basement and use the side exit to escape.  I would throw the baby over the back fence (that's right, throw the baby) and then follow w me and J quickly over the fence and then book on to the police dept who were located right behind our house.....
How ridiculous is that? I actually ahd a getaway plan for when the mob came to get us. Not because I was a crazy paranoid lune.  But because my (ex) put me and my boys in such a position, that I had to think of these things for survival.. and so I could sleep at night..... mind you, I had to have the dogs sleep in mine and J's room so I would know for sure if someone was breaking in.                   good times and bad. sickness and health. meh.