It’s so beautiful outside today.
I should be out on the back porch, or taking Mia for a walk, or playing catch with Cheyenne.
I should be cleaning the bathrooms, folding clothes, or vacuuming.
I should really brush my teeth and get dressed.
I don’t think I’ll be doing any of that.
This is a pretty personal thing to write…but I didn’t name my space FIGHTING INSANITY just because it sounded funny. I come from a long, biological line of crazy people, and, sometimes, I truly feel that’s what my brain is constantly doing–fighting off insanity, just trying not to go crazy.
The last several weeks have been hell–on Caleb…and of course, the dogs. (See? There’s a smile!) I can’t shake this funk–and honestly, "funk" is fast becoming an inaccurate description of what I’m going through. I’m not myself. I can’t concentrate. I’m extremely short-tempered. I’m weepy. I’m tired. I’m unmotivated. I’m unsatisfied. I don’t care about anything. I’m mean, and I know it.
I’m sure my poor husband feels like he got a lemon of a wife. I don’t know how to stop…being the way I am being. I’m just so dad-gum sad–for no reason. I have everything to be happy about. Case in point:
Our company has been here for almost a week. So far, they have successfully mended both the cars, bought a whole bunch of cool stuff for everyone, cooked, cleaned, won over the kids, the dogs…We’ve gone for walks in the woods, played in the mud, the list goes on and on. I CAN’T HANDLE PEOPLE. The second night they were here, I had to fake a stomach ache and go to bed early because I was practically hyper-ventilating…Why? I have no clue.
Caleb–that sweet, sweet man–brings home beautiful flowers for me everyweek. He does more than his share of housework. He takes care of the girls. He keeps an eye on the dogs. He even bought me these really great shelves to put my art supplies on. But I am absolutely horrendous to him. No matter what he does, or says, or buys…I find the one, tiny, negative thing in the situation and I hold onto it…tight.
This sort of thing has been happening on and off for the last 2 years or so…never has it been this intense.
I can’t stop crying.
I can’t stop feeling angry.
I can’t stop being tired.
I know there’s a million things I could do to improve my mood. But at this point, I don’t care. I don’t want to. I’m awful.
I thought it would feel better to write about it, but it’s not working.
Mia’s sleeping. I think I’m going to go take a nap.