It is 11:50am. I feel like I am completely spent for the day. I have a whole day ahead of me. Not to mention tomorrow is Monday which means back to job possibilities and such so I’m already anxious about that. Oh, and this reminds me . . . I realized why I like writing so much. . . It forces me to give my focus to one specific narrative and follow one train of thought instead of sitting lost in the middle of a busy station.
I’m sorry, my brain is still all over the place and I am having trouble focusing enough to write. So, I’m just going to start with what I feel right now. Well, careful what you wish for I suppose, I just felt cold wet dog.
And now I am returning from getting my dog a treat. You know, because I am such a rockstar at focusing.
So, now that the wet dog is gone, I am feeling heaviness. I think it is one of those things you can only truly grasp if you have felt it before. Everything feels weighted. It takes more effort to move each muscle. And doing anything beyond existing requires a conscious effort.
My head aches. I wouldn’t say I have a headache. But it’s like the non-stop motion in my brain is making the muscle ache. Tension is held in my forehead, temples, neck, and shoulders. It’s so embedded I’ve forgotten what relaxed feels like.
Emotionally I am raw. Many thoughts lead to watery eyes recently, though I’ve done well to conceal them. I know that there are plenty of extreme examples of horrible moms so when I say I feel like the worst mother ever, I don’t truly literally mean it. You may think that sounds obvious, trust me, it isn’t to everyone.
I feel like I am so inept at being a human let alone a mother right now. How am I supposed to be there for my daughters when I am crumbling as I go? And how do I explain? I’m sorry your mother sucks and I’m doing the best I can, and I know that the best I can is not enough and you deserve so much more but this is what you got stuck with.
And the millions of thoughts of ways I’ve failed run like a slideshow through my head. And the anxiety builds in my chest. And I want to bic so desperately right now. Not because I deserve it because of the horrible waste of a life I am, but because I’d rather focus on the ritualistic relief no matter how brief, from the yearning to curl up in a ball and disappear.
I long to have someone near me but I’m firstly too ashamed to admit I’m scared and I don’t know if I can keep on doing this and second also not wanting to “people”. It’s complicated.
Everything is complicated.
I’m simultaneously pissed at myself for giving in to the urge and desperate to keep myself from doing it again.
And it all just makes me feel like such a freak.
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