Let me just say up front that I know my life is hunky-dorey compared to many of my virtual friends. I really don’t have a D*#M thing to complain about. But here I am, venting in a post after I haven’t written anything for several weeks. I’ll be surprised and happy if anyone even bothers to read this. I know it may sound like I’m feeling sorry for myself, and I’m trying to avoid that cop out. I realize that I am the only one who can change anything about me. I am trying to.
I’m struggling with how to express how I’m feeling right now. Not Good just doesn’t cut it. It’s pissing me off because over the past month, I’ve felt better than I have in over a year or two.
I don’t feel like I fit in with my family (my husband and son.) Maybe that’s a male vs female thing? But what I do know is that my husband shared just how depressed he’s become over the past year or so. Maybe much longer, and I have to feel that me and my crap has played SOME part in that. And my son is repressing feelings from his girlfriend breaking up with him and it’s caused physical problems with exhaustion, weakness and heart palpitations to the point that he’s missed a bunch of school – again. SO, I am trying to be as supportive to them both as I can … yet everything I do seems wrong (at least to me.) I end up pushing my son to talk. I’m f#@king scared of what to say to my husband about anything, even if it’s something like “I’d like to paint the bedroom.” I’m picking on them both (even when I hold the words back, the thoughts are still in my head) about the tiniest sh#t that was asked to be done and/or didn’t get done.
And I’m feeling HORRIBLE about my physical self. I have to sleep using a cpap machine (just call me Darth Vader) or I snore enough to wake up the neighborhood. And I’ve gotten huge! We were being intimate last night and he wanted me to get on top. I told him I couldn’t. I felt like there was no way. I’d had a big supper, way too much. I really wanted to throw up and even went into the bathroom to do so. But I didn’t. I stopped myself, realizing that it would be another form of self harm. And I’ve not done that for a few months now.
I just want to pull off my head and put it on another body … a different body. I guess I’m acting like I’m feeling better … but it’s just repressing and exhibiting in other ways.