A wise person suggested I keep a private journal for some of what’s in my head. I pointed out that I already have a place for all my secret thoughts, and it lies between my ears. I spend a lot of time in my head. Too much time, frankly.
Do I write about the most personal side of me because I need feedback? Do I write it so that other people know that they aren’t alone? Do I write it because it’s some form of exhibitionism? Do I write it because I’m a little fucked up in the head and don’t know when to be quiet? I have a feeling the answer is yes to all of those.
Something is wrong with me. Something different. Something that has crept up on me, and while I guess I could blame it on the grief, I don’t want to do that. Not everything is about that. Is it?
I just don’t care.
Ok, let me clarify. I care about my children. I care about being a good mother to them. I care about keeping them alive.
I don’t care about me. I eat crap that I don’t really want to eat simply because it’s there. This isn’t even emotional eating. I get no temporary thrill from it; it provides no comfort, not even for a few seconds. I haven’t worked out in days, which is nothing to many. Exercise was always a form of therapy, a way to clear my mind. I don’t care. I just don’t fucking care.
I’m scared. Not caring is scary. I’m the badass who lost 90 lbs with no drugs, no supplements, no help. Just me, myself, and doing it because I cared, because it mattered to me. I’m the badass who puts her mind to shit and gets it done. The only thing I want to get done is the day so I can hide in my bed. I’m a goddamned lump.
I look around at my life these days and I don’t recognize myself. I’m tougher than fucking nails. I’m strong. I stand tall. I put my mind to shit and do it, even when it’s hard, especially when it’s hard. I get a sense of satisfaction out of doing things that other people say is too hard to do. What the fuck is my problem?
I feel like I’m whining. There are people who have real problems, real grief, real sadness. There are people who would kill to have my life (poor things, they really don’t know any better, do they?). I’m faking my way through it. I’m playing the part again, and I hate it. And it scares me. Because I couldn’t tell you what would fix it. I don’t know. I don’t care, and it doesn’t matter.
Except it must matter or I wouldn’t spend time and energy writing about it, would I? Fuck, what is my problem?
Don’t answer that, please. I know what my problems are. I’m very aware.
I’m feeling sorry for myself, and I can’t make myself stop. I’m waiting for someone to swoop in and rescue me, and that’s never going to happen. It was never going to happen. I’m bemoaning a situation that is extremely common and I really should stop fucking whining. I’m losing myself to something stronger than I am, and I don’t know how to stop it. I’m not sure I care enough to stop it. Just let it fucking happen. Whatever it is.
Fuck. I just want to feel like myself again – whoever the fuck I am.
I think almost every honest person on the planet has felt what you are feeling. I have. Pain….hurts. Give yourself a set time to ALLOW yourself to hurt without comparing your pain to other things – yes, maybe there are people out there hurting more….but that doesn’t make your hurt less. When that time has elapsed, then make yourself resume life even if it is kicking a screaming 🙂
I admire your authenticity. Real people have pain, and real people don’t always handle it like some sort of hero. I like real people.
I guess I’m definitely a real person. Thank you for that…I promptly fell asleep after posting that…there’s a chance I needed sleep more than anything…
Hey, you have it SO bad about that damn box of Lego.
Now…take deep breaths…you can beat this!
I love that you joke at my pain…that is why we’re friends. 🙂
Deep breathing, I promise…sounds like I’m about to hyperventilate but I’m breathing…
I always hated when people told me that there are others with worse situations. Of course, yes, I know that, but it doesn’t make me feel better about my own situation. I think it’s okay to talk about what’s bothering you. It loses it’s power over you when you open up about it, but that’s just how my mind works maybe.
Maybe talking about it will force you to woman up and make the changes? It’s gotta stop being talk at some point, right? You’re stronger than you think though. 🙂
I hate that too…like my feelings are less because someone else has it worse…
And you’re right, I do need to woman up…I guess I’m just not there yet…I’m sure I’ll get there…
I believe it is absolutely ESSENTIAL to say what we feel. Sometimes I want to say F.U. to anyone who tries to tell me that someone else has it worse than I do. My feelings, my pain, is just a valid, just as real, as the pain of any other human on this earth. I already have a tendency to devalue my own needs and feelings; I don’t need someone else doing that for me.
I am supposed to start classes on Monday and get back in to doing my thesis research and I JUST DON’T GIVE A DAMN. I have never *ever* not loved school. Ever. Right now, I wish I could take the month, the semester, the year, off. I don’t know why THIS is happening but it’s happening at a damn inconvenient time. So, yeah, I know how you feel. You still love your kids. You still get up and get through your day. And it just doesn’t mean anything.
Let us both be in our heads until we aren’t anymore. Let us hurt until the hurt is over. Let us love in our way passionate, needy, over-the-top way and know that we are perfect just how we are.
Ok, damn it, you’re making me cry…which is better than feeling nothing…
I think I need to be ok with just feeling sad. I don’t like it, so I try not to feel that way and when it comes back, it feels worse because I’ve kept everything at bay…/sigh…
Patience sucks, but I guess that’s what I have to have in order to get through this…
And WE will get through this…
You both sound depressed. And you both sound to be wonderful, smart, thinking people. The sort that get depression the worst. Yes, you will get through it. And you BOTH need to value yourselves more than just in terms of the bad things thrust upon you by other people that bring you down. You need to live by ‘I will survive’ which may be on this link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tth-8wA3PdY
Now, both of you get out and DO! No more moping!
And here are some hugs to take with you to fend off that cold winter rain.
You are a wonderful, wonderful man. 🙂
My advice: get out with a friend. You might blow off steam for the first 15 minutes, and then afterward you’re talking about something else entirely different and getting in some good laughs. It works for me. I do it about once a week.
When I find that friend, I’ll be happy to…I have a couple (that aren’t online)…but I’ve been on vacay this week, and they’ve been at work…and yes, while I’m out with them, I forget it all…I come home and I get sucked into it again…and no, I don’t know how to make that stop…
Screw secret…. I am not allowed to keep secrets (thankfully). My Sir wants to know what I think regardless of whether or not he will like it.
When I had a Sir, there were no secrets…now that I’m alone, I’m in my head more often than not…