You know you’re abusing your cell phone privileges when you call your husband from upstairs to request that he make you a pot of extra-caffeinated coffee so that you can get your ass out of bed.
True story. I’m listening to him grind the coffee beans as I type this from my cell phone in the comfort of our new bed.
Does that make me lazy?
I know I’m supposed to be gushing about how happy and wonderful life is now that I’ve moved to Seattle and I’m living out my dreams and all that crap, but one simple fact remains: I am who I am. I’m that sarcastic snot of a human being who manages to turn snowflakes into shit on a good day. You know, Surprisingly Sane and all that stuff.
I’m not happy. Period. I feel so horribly sick admitting it to myself that I can hardly believe I just typed that out.
Don’t get me wrong. I love this place, and I’m happy that I moved here. I love Washington, the weather, the people, the city, my beautiful house, and the extreme liberalism that surrounds me. I love seeing Lake Washington practically every time I leave my home, and spending half my day outside in the fresh, cool air. It’s wonderful.
I have found my neighbors and the community here just flat-out incredible. I’ve done more in the last two weeks social-wise than I normally did in a month in Tucson, and I’ve just been playing it light. Easing into the whole world of wow, there are things to do here. There are just so many opportunities, so many ways to get involved, and so many really cool, friendly people. Plus, the internet world has been amazingly supportive and warm, and I couldn’t say thank you enough to everyone who has been there for me (especially my HB Mamas… you know who you are… I love my cookbook- thank you!)
For all those reasons and then some, it’s a huge relief to finally be living in a place that I know truly is home.
But dammit, the depression is just really smothering me lately, and the insomnia has been back full-force for days. The extreme stress of moving, trying to unpack and clean nearly the whole damn house myself, and the fact that I lost the ability to sit down at my computer for over a week to blog (thank goodness my internet is finally up and running) have been really tough. I use this blog as ongoing therapy, and not having it as my patient ear, the one that I don’t have to use my voice in order for it to listen, was really difficult for me. More so than I thought it would be.
And my husband, bless his heart, he’s a good guy, but he just can’t understand what I’m going through. He doesn’t see the inner-workings of my fucked up mind, the obssesive-compulsive thoughts that come from the stress and exhaustion, the self-loathing that I can’t just walk away from. On a bad day, I just can’t even hug him, and I can’t explain why.
Lately, that’s starting to become the norm, and I’m feeling a bit panicky about it. I don’t want to end up where I was so many months ago. I don’t want another trip to a crisis center or suicidal thoughts to keep me from living my life.
I’ve been doing really well, all things considered. I have a lot of happy moments, and I am enjoying being here so much more than I can say in a lot of ways. When I’m in the midst of doing something, I feel great. But then there’s that dark cloud hanging over my head. The one that just always follows me like a bad cartoon character.
And I’m so freaking sorry that I haven’t been able to talk to my husband about this. He’s been so happy and excited about life and all the opportunities here that I haven’t had the heart to burst his bubble. He’s no idiot, though, so I know he probably can’t fool himself into thinking I’m doing just peachy.
Ugh.
Shoot me. If this is what I’m like on happy pills, God help us all.
Current Mood:
Sad
Oh yes, you knew I’d get to this one eventually. What’s a good hot topic if you don’t acknowledge its presence?
Loading ...I am allowing voters to choose up to two different options because I know that sometimes you change your mind when you have more than one kid.
Play nice, no attacking other readers for their answers, and I promise to weigh in on my personal beliefs regarding vaccines in the near future.
Current Mood:
Playful
If you’re wondering why I haven’t been leaving comments on your blog and frequenting my usual online forums, it’s because I STILL don’t have Internet.
The cute, pierced and tattooed guy with an accent (I’m a sucker for those) installed it all yesterday, but it stopped working after he left.
To console myself, I did a bit of retail therapy at Ikea and spent WAY too much money. But it was fun… with the exception of two little monsters who tried to rip the store in pieces while screaming at the top of their lungs while we waited FOREVER in the check-out line.
So anyway, here I am, STILL updating my pathetic, boring life from my phone for ya’ll. I have some really great stories to tell, bit I need a full-sized keyboard to recap them effectively.
One has to do with a big-ass motherfuckin’ Ukrainian guy who sat on my curb ready to kill me if I DIDN’T COME BACK WITH THE MONEY I OWED HIM. For real. It was scary, but everyone is okay now. Relatively speaking.
You know what really annoys the crap out of me? When someone asks, “What’s wrong,” and then they proceed to tell me about how they went through the same exact thing only TEN TIMES WORSE THROUGH A BLIZZARD WHILE LAND SHARKS NIPPED AT THEIR BARE TOES before I can spew a cohesive sentence out of my mouth.
Then, as if I didn’t already feel like a selfish shithead for complaining about my silly life in the first place, they decide to tell me THE SAME DAMN SOB STORY fourteen more times, embellishing on the facts a bit more each time they give me the full recap.
Dude, seriously. If you just want to bitch and complain about how horrible your life is, don’t initiate that by pretending you care to hear what’s bothering me.
Just start a blog instead. That’s what I did, for crying out loud.
Sheesh.