Emails and texts have now become a significant source of axiety and continued depression.  So much to the point I avoid my personal email and blocked her on texts. I just now scrolled back to late June emails, to discover what package of expletives awaited me. I’m waking up so my heart rate is nominal and I can take an emtional blow.Typically it’s a grab bag of downloaded thoughts or demands, or shear emotional barrage of whatever. 

I breath a sigh of relief. Nothing. It’s Friday July 29th. Mark the day. 

But my divorce is yet to finish. Next Friday is doomsday. Mediation. The problem with it is that I have personal emotion invested. This makes it harder to negotiate. Unless you’re a Ex Machina, which I love to be. I’m not. I got locked out.

Unlike negotiationing the footing of a 1/4-mile line seawall I built in Malibu with effervescent contractor, which was like fighting a shark who has black eyeys, you know there’s little emotion but just instinct in his fighting.  She has motive, intent, and forethought. Immensely more dangerous to one emotional well being.

Doomsday approaches.