I almost wasn’t going to make this an actual blog post, because I wasn’t sure where this would go… But, frankly, this isn’t like other blogs & this crap has been hanging out in my chaotic, crazy brain for far too long. Maybe vomiting it out into my corner of the Web will help me make some sense of it or give me an epiphany or confirm my fears or SOMETHING …
I have been going to bed most nights lately with tears in my eyes. It is all I can do to keep the tears streaming down my face from turning into full-on SOBS.
She used to be a confidant, a drinking partner, a shoulder to cry on — one of my best friends.
Now, I look at her & roll my eyes because all I can see is her selfishness, evident in the way she blatantly bulldozed through boundaries I had clearly set, (& by the carefully constructed social media updates, designed to evoke sympathy or envy or understanding, despite being only a small fraction of the actual truth).
So, today, I woke up, got dressed, & hit the grocery store. Getting up & getting going, first thing, without trying to do something else or “ease my way into it” is kind of a big deal for me. When I try to “ease my way into it,” I wind up never quite getting going. The couch is my best friend. I kid you not.
So, I was patting myself on the back, walking around the grocery store, basket on one arm & my Starbucks grande, triple shot, three-pump hazelnut, two-pump mocha with soy & light whip in my other hand. I had already been through the produce section & was looking for some hot dogs in natural casing, when I heard my name from a few steps away. It was one of my friends that I haven’t seen in several weeks (months? I don’t know; I lose track).
We hugged & said our hellos. . . Then she asked the question that made me cry instantly. In public. Ugh. Embarrassing much?
Now that Christmas is pretty much over, I am on to thinking about the new year. . . In one week, on January 1, it will mark two years since the birth of Calculated Chaos. Craziness! It has been light & dark. . . A post-a-day to nothing for months. . . My online journal of sorts. It has to be odd to actually be a follower of this craziness. . . But, for those of you that have found me in my little corner of the cyber world, I thank you for sticking around. . .
It’s been highly therapeutic for me. . . Not only in the form of having an outlet for the craziness that takes over my brain, but also for the friends that I have made or become closer to as a result of this blog. . . Continue reading “New Year Anniversary”→
I crave routine, but I’ll grow bored with it after a short while. . .
I want to go back to work — to contribute to our household, financially — but I have very little desire to go back to retail (what I have the most experience in), now that I have had over a year away from it.
I want to write (blog) more frequently, but I get so stuck in my own head that I can’t find the proper words to share.
I want to write a TToT post — each of the two weeks I’ve missed since my last TToT post, I thought about it more than once — It’s just that I feel like it is the same TToT post damn near every single week. . .
I am sad. I am bored. I have no reason to feel either. The handsome husband wants me to see someone (i.e. some kind of therapist), but I just can’t bring myself to start that tedious search. . . & I am frightened that it’d mean trying medication. (Been there, done that — YEARS ago — & it wasnt pretty.)
Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Just put in the motions & see what happens. Same ol’, same ol’. Day after day.
Run to class, wait for it to get over because it’s something boring that could have been done in half the time if instructors didn’t insist on hand-holding. . . Rush home & get food made, just to feel the let down when it’s time for the handsome husband to jet off to work.
Boring, lonely evenings at home. With the dog. Who isn’t enough company, no matter what people try to say about the joy of dogs. . . It might all be true, but he’s still a dog.
The handsome husband finally gets home, but as I am waking up, he is needing to go to sleep. Again, I am by myself. He might be home, but he is unavailable. . . Not able to really be present.
Then, he is waking up, but I am too tired to stay up with him. So, I go to bed by myself, cursing that I am tired because he is awake. Then, again, I wake up as he is going to sleep. . .
It’s a vicious cycle. . . I’m sick of it. It’s no one’s fault, necessarily. But I am just done.
I’ve cried entirely too many tears over loneliness. It’s ridiculous.
I know I write about things that are sad or depressing. . . Probably more often than I’d like. It is a good outlet, though, to be able to write about it. Some things really shouldn’t take up space in your head for too terribly long; it’s just not healthy. Blogging helps me get my thoughts in order & purge my brain of things that maybe shouldn’t dwell there forever. (Thankful #1) It’s a beautiful thing.
With that said, I want to put some clarification out into the blogosphere, (see, now, Lizzi? This word has caught on with me, apparently. Consider it stolen!). . .