I’m having a bad week.
There, I said it.
You wouldn’t know it by hanging out with me because I’m a really good faker. (Ask my ex)
I keep this part of me very well hidden. It’s probably not a good idea.
I want to know when this will all be over. I feel so selfish because all I can think about right now is how nice it would be to lock myself into my own room and not have someone knock on the door .5 seconds later.
I want to be alone.
At times like this I know that would be the worst thing for me, but it’s what I keep migrating to. I want to shut down. I want to push them all away. I want to be alone.
I want to be done trying to save the world. I don’t want to be the one people look to for answers. I want to be alone.
The lump in my throat is growing, and has been on a steady course for the past few days. I felt attacked at work this week, which didn’t help. I feel overwhelmed financially, which didn’t help. I’m in self deprecating mode with my weight, which didn’t help. I just want to be alone.
I miss my friends. I miss my cats. I miss the fuzzy blanket I packed away into storage. I miss my forks (How random and lame is that)
This has to get better, right? Everyone has bad weeks, right?
Why do I feel so lame and like this is the end of the world? Last week I was excited about the new beginning, now the same prospect makes me feel like shit – I don’t get it.
I need for everything to be OK. There is no plan B. I need for everything to be fixed, and I need for it to be fixed sooner rather than later.
I can usually bring myself out of something like this by thinking of something good. Right now I cannot find that good. That’s not to say it isn’t there. I know it’s there. For right now I am pity partying. I guess that’s pretty pathetic, huh? I’m voluntarily willing myself into a funk.
It will be over soon, and then I will kick myself for being such a baby. But for now I think I need this funk. I think I’m entitled to feel sorry for myself, even if it’s just for a little bit.
This cloud has a silver lining; they all do. This is not going to kill me.
I really just want to be alone, though. For that I feel ungrateful. My brother and his family have sacrificed their own alone time in favor of helping my family. How dare I be selfish and act like they haven’t sacrificed. There isn’t a place in their house we aren’t “allowed” to go. They have no alone time either. What if they want to be alone, too?
Alright. I’m grabbing my hankie and blowing my nose and getting over myself. Just not yet. I’m going to do laundry and I’m going to try to make it another hour without snapping at one of the kids. I’m sure they are stressed out too. I’m taking them out tomorrow and we will be gone all day. Maybe that’s what we need…
The next time you hear from me I will have a better attitude, hopefully. Even if I do need this funk, I can’t let it beat me.