Feeling rather: Detached from the world...
09:51 - 2008-04-24
Feeling rather: Detached from the world...
09:51 - 2008-04-24
I really am feeling depressed. I went home, and Hombre was sleeping on the couch. There were dirty dishes everywhere, and I just went straight to the bathroom, changed into some comfortable clothes, went into BabyGirl's bedroom, l lay down and switched the TV to Oprah, and proceeded to cry. I didn't even know what the hell I was crying about!
I lay there and tried to pinpoint what the hell my problem was. I was talking to God, asking him to help me figure out what is wrong with me, what am I missing. I think I know the answer. I need to start going to church. I pray to God, but in spurts. And not just when I need something. Normally, thinking about someone I know prompts these spontaneous prayers. Then I add on blessings for my kids, and my sisters and their families. Then I ask for strength and wisdom to do the right thing, and help make things better. Finally, I thank God for giving me another day with my family, and friends. For having a home and a job. For keeping all those I love safe and healthy.
I lay there and cried by myself for about twenty minutes. Then I kinda fell asleep. When I really started to get into a good sleep, Hombre woke up, and was making all kinds of noise. I became irritated because I had the feeling that he was doing that shit on purpose. So I just lay there with my eyes closed, and he peeped his head in the room (I heard him open the bi-fold door). I pretended I was sleeping. I did not feel like dealing with him. He stood there for what seemed like forever, but it was probably really only a few seconds. Finally, I heard the door close, and I realized I had been holding my breath.
Is this normal? Why all the anxiety? Why try to avoid dealing with him? I know he has his faults, but I think this has to do with me. Something is not right in my heart, in my soul, in ME!
I had a dream last night that I was super skinny...like before I had kids. In high school, I weighed 98 pounds. My bra size was 36A when I was a junior (remember I got pregnant during that year). Well, in my dream that was what I looked like. What stands so strongly in my mind is not the way I looked, but how I felt. I felt happy. I felt powerful and in control. People responded to me, and seemed to like being around me. So maybe all this emotional shit is really my disappointment in myself, and how I look. Did I tell ya'll that the other day a couple of my coworkers told me that I look like I'm losing weight? So my happy ass bounces down to the womens locker room to weigh myself. OMG! That was the first time I ever went over 200 pounds. The scale said 203!
Talk about bursting my bubble...it was a fucking explosion! Of course, Ruby Red had just come into town, so that could account for the extra three pounds. But I also think that Mr. Man's lack of communication after my text photo has me thinking that he was disappointed with my appearance. I know...I KNOW I should not be letting that affect me. It's all in me...in my head. And how I perceive myself. My clothes are fitting loser, and my measurements in my waist and my thighs have gone down almost an inch in each. I have started walking to work again, and it feels good to have that fifteen minutes of me time.
Later on, I did drink a couple of beers, and watched Big Brother. Then I went to bed. I didn't do the dishes, I didn't cook dinner, but there's no food in the house anyway. Hombre went to his cousins house and came home around 11:30. I went to bed, and we didn't say a word to each other. I think he's getting tired of this shit, too. Who knows?
OK...I'll snap myself out of this. I will. Take care, ya'll. I'll be back soon...