I hate to do this.
I hate to write another entry about my moodiness and my inability to control it.
Last night was the worst. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think–yet my thoughts were racing…at a pace so fast I couldn’t focus in on any particular one. This morning I have an incredible headache from attempting to process the things that flew through my brain…I finally drifted off around 3:00 a.m…and I’m surprisingly not a bit sleepy now, 4 hours later. Just tense as hell.
It is literally a fight for me to stay calm these days. I would say 80% of the time, I’m struggling–hard–not to fly off the handle…not to show my anger, sometimes my rage, my pessimism…but I know that it manages to seep through my happy face. I just don’t know if the kids notice. Lord know the dogs do.
Caleb is out of town for now. I’m glad. He needs a break from me. I dread the thought of him coming back tonight and seeing me like this…or rather, experiencing me like this.
Last night, Cheyenne had a game. I didn’t go–her coach took her. I had the baby as my excuse–we wouldn’t have gotten back until 11:00, and Mia couldn’t possibly make it that late, right? The truth is, I still can’t stand being around people…especially lots of people that I don’t know. I was practically choking thinking about everyone that would be at that field. I don’t want to go to the store. I don’t want to leave the house.
And I certainly don’t want to go to the doctor tomorrow–the mean, old man who will ask me all kinds of questions that will make my head spin and my eyes tear up, who will look at me funny, yet treat me with fake sympathy, while in his head I’m sure will think I’m either a serious nut job, or a serious liar. He’ll notice the humongous zit on my face and laugh on the inside at me.
And then he will tell me that it’s not wise for a wacko like me to have anymore kids, that I would surely loose it, and that he wants me to take some kind of medication that will turn me into a robot…he’ll tell me there’s no possible way I can get through this without it. He’ll ignore my theory of a hormone problem, or even a thyroid problem, and send me straight to a psychologist who will look at me the same, disapproving way, and who will charge me a whole lot more money.
So why bother?
Thank God that Caleb is supposed to come with me, otherwise, I probably would skip it, and end up driving around the city for an hour so Caleb would think that I did go. The thought has crossed my mind to ask him to stay home so I could do just that.
I feel like this right now. Perhaps in half an hour, I will have totally changed my mind, and I will be happy and positive and bright and shining and ready for the new day and all it has to offer.
Or, I might come crashing down entirely and sob loudly on the couch for the rest of the day, or until I fall asleep. That’s highly likely, too.
AAAUUUUGGGHHH! I can’t stand myself right now.