I just want back in your head
What a freaking week.
I survived yet another birthday. Shocking, I know, and let me tell you, I narrowly escaped the bush this go. I worked on my birthday, which I normally don’t do. Not because I don’t think I should have to because it’s a magical time to celebrate the day my mom essentially shat me out of her front butt (you’re very welcome for the imagery – also, I’m a fibber because I do totally think that). More like I get weird(er) around my birthday, and the randos shouldn’t have to be subjected to me. I typically keep to myself, fill myself up on sushi, and call it a day. I’m not sure why I didn’t request it off. I guess I just wasn’t feeling it this year? In truth it kind of snuck up on me. Before I knew it, it was three days away. After work I had dinner with Squish and my mom because the husband, again, couldn’t be bothered to request off that night. He apologized, and I said, “Why? You don’t usually ask it off. I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” Mhmmm I know. Fucking ugly. That’s not who I want to be. I’m wrestling with her. Then of course my mom couldn’t help but bring up my dad, even though I’ve asked her not to repeatedly. Especially now. It hasn’t been lost on me I’m living parallel to my dad’s story right now. I’m not at all thrilled about it. But she can’t help herself. It makes me so sad because he’s an asshole, and I’m convinced he hasn’t thought about her.
That’s about when I made shit weird. I spiraled. Hard. I have a really bad habit of thinking too much. I found myself looking at her and thinking “Is this to be my future?” I’m not really sure how to explain where I went from there, but let’s just say I called in sick to work the next day. I slept ALL day. I may have mentioned I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately. Yeah, I slept until 3 or 4 in the afternoon. I got up feeling totally useless, did my workout for the challenge, smoked, took a shower, and took stock. I’m not my mom. I’m not my dad. I’m me because that’s all that suites me. And all was right with the world again. Until Friday. I spent Friday sporadically crying because life is hard sometimes. Friday was one of those days where I just wanted to run away. Just get in my car and go somewhere else. Anywhere else.
It doesn’t help that work is an absolute shit show right now, or that they use the worst accounting system ever. I’ve worked overtime almost every week since I started two years ago. I’m tired, worn out, and sometimes I don’t want to do any of this shit anymore because what’s the point? Why can’t someone else carry the eggs for a while? Life’s not easy being a “natural born leader” who hates to lead.
Monday, my cycle started. Oh-ho, a clue Sherlock 🧐 which would also explain why I was hormonal and super horny. Like ugh I can’t stand myself right now, but FUCK I gotta fuck me. That’s logic 🙄 In related news, I’ve taken to singing “Being a girl is gross” around the house. The fams is just as pleased with this turn of events as I am.
All that aside, so much has been getting done. I went through my books, I got my financial stuff sorted, cleaned out my closet. I’m kind of ahead of schedule. Half of my to do list is done already. I missed only one day of the challenge, and it was only because we moved a bunch of heavy furniture and my back was sore. Picked up where I left off the next day though. I’m slacking on reading, but I’m not going to beat myself up over it. Too much anyway. Ambiguity.
I took a long hard look at my thoughts and discovered I think a lot about myself. Not to be confused with caring. Because I show care for others far more than I do for myself, and I think maybe that’s part of the problem. I should care more for myself. Stop thinking, analyzing, give myself a break. I guess that’s what I’m working on the most. Apparently, I’m also too nice. Who would have thought? Out of nowhere bestie told me when I leave I can’t harbor guilt for whatever he goes through because he’s definitely going to struggle. I was just trying to figure out how to explain that I’m wrestling with exactly that. It’s not that I don’t want to have the conversation (I mean I don’t WANT to, but you know). I don’t want to hurt him. How do you look someone you love in the eye and tell them you don’t want to be with them anymore? How do you bear watching the realization cross their face? How do you look on as you destroy someone’s world and just be okay with that? He’s been part of my identity for half of my life. How can I just stop caring about that? Then I try to remember he has no problem doing it.
I’m in no way saying I don’t have blame in this. I’m doing a lot of finger pointing. I could have been more open. I could have bitched every time he hurt my feelings, instead of bottling it up until I couldn’t keep the cork on it anymore because I was afraid of being a nag. It would have sped up the process and maybe it would have saved us both some time. I’m working on that too. But it hasn’t all been bad, and there for a while, it was mostly really good. I just hope he remembers that.
This is all really painful and also glorious…but mostly painful.