Survey says...

 So, today I am having an emotional breakdown. It's not bad enough to be a meltdown, but worse than a Hallmark movie. I feel no motivation and only a little hope for the future.

My achilles tendon injury is healing just about as slowly as humanly possible. The doctor said wear the boot as long as possible for 6 more weeks. That's over on February 3rd. I think I'm mentally done with the boot and the injury and life. I just can't take any more!

I got food poisoning or dehydrated last night (not sure which) and am having a rough time trying to get my body working correctly again. I'm tired of whining at the people I live with and I have no one else to talk to. I just feel like things are wearing thin and my options are limited right now.

Perhaps it's time to be done. Perhaps I'm ready to cash out of life.

When do things get better?

How often am I going to strain to get through each day? I'm tired. I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of winter and the dreary days with little sun and no outdoors. I'm freaking sick of this pandemic and the changes it has forced us all into.

I used to be able to go walking for a couple miles each day to get out of the house. Instead, I tore my achiles tendon eight months ago and it's still painful. No extended walking and what walking I can do is extra-super-slow. I feel beaten and abused and abandoned by life.

Which is uber funny because I've been talking with my therapist lately about my piece-of-crap self esteem. I thought it was getting better. If I'm doing so much better, why do I still have days when I'm depressed and fatalistic? And why on earth is this blog not helping me feel better?!

Perhaps it has something to do with not publicly posting most of my rants. I wrote them down, but then never make them public. I think therapists are terrorists. They torture people, emotionally drain them, and then charge a ton of money for the experience.

I hate my life...

Today brings to mind a quote from Muppet Treasure Island. Gonzo, Rizzo, and Jim are talking. Jim starts off "I hate my life." Gonzo responds "I hate your life, too." Rizzo finishes "If I had a life, I'd hate it."

Today I agree with Rizzo. Yesterday I agreed with Gonzo. I like retirement, don't misunderstand. But that's my current job. That's not who I am. Retirement is not my life. I babysit and I cook and I clean and I garden and I enjoy those things. Mostly.

But I hate that I feel empty inside. I hate that something deep inside my soul is screaming for release and freedom and I'm afraid to give it voice. I hate myself. I hate my life. I hate that I live with people who expect me to listen carefully to every word they say and yet they haven't heard a thing I've said in nearly two years now.

I hate that I can't sit and talk to mom about it anymore.

I've spent my entire life collecting mothers. And now I'm down to one. One with alzheimer's who has no idea who I am anymore. It's bad enough that she won't even leave her house if I am outside in my own yard. I think she's terrified of me. Now how am I supposed to not be offended at that realization? Am I supposed to be enjoying this life that leads me?

Who in the ...

Funny how much we find life picking at our souls some days. Just when I thought things were going better and that I was gonna make it ... Life exploded in my face.

It's almost offensive how something simple can derail us when we think we're finally there. I graduated with a new BS and gathered my contacts together and applied for jobs left and right. And what did I get?

You aren't qualified. We're looking for someone else. You're over-qualified. You're just not what we're after.

What do I hear?

We want someone prettier.

It's almost sad how we get our hopes up because we're finally doing everything right. It's our turn to win and be somebody. It's our turn to not get screwed. Oh. I'm sorry. It wasn't really my turn after all. 

... Or High Water

I am so tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally. Not spiritually - that's my big renewal. But the rest, yeah they're weighing on me a lot.

I'm tired of being ignored and avoided. I'm tired of being expected to sit and listen quietly until my presence is requested. I'm tired of playing by the rules - rules that only I appear to be following. Why does someone else get to decide how I MUST live my own life and then go about their life in whatever manner they choose.

That brings me to the big question. Why am I letting people treat me this way? What makes it ok for them to do this and not for me to? When did I become such a sucker that I allowed this to become my normal?

My Last Nerve

Isn't it sad when people think they can bother you and make requests? Then (as if that wasn't enough) they get cranky when you tell them to back off and leave you alone.

What? It's like you don't even care about me?

No, I don't care. Thank you for asking.

Quite honestly, I have enough problems of my own. I have freaking nerve damage in my back and legs. I don't have any extra nerves for these people to dance on and whine on. Sure, maybe that makes me angry and "socially-unstable". What do I care. Does no one understand this?

I'M IN PAIN! I don't care about your petty little problems!

But of course you can't just say that to people - let alone family. Nope. You're expected to smile and pretend that everything is fine and you're happy and thrilled to be alive. Sure.

Bite me!

Mother's Day

Of all the stupid days in the world, this is one that I hate the most. Don't misunderstand me. I love my mother. I had a decent mother.

But the world celebrates women who have used their uterus to host a child. That, quite honestly, has nothing whatsoever to do with being a mother. What about those women who didn't give birth but have mothered and nurtured us anyway. 

Why can't we celebrate all those who nurture - regardless of gender, parentage, and ability! I have loved 3 mothers in my life so far. They all understand that they have mothered me. They nurtured and taught me equally. They are my mother. 

The second thing I hate is that I'm not supposed to celebrate this day because I have never given birth. Do the 7 children I raised not count? I did everything except give birth to them. I feel like their mother. They call me mom. What about that makes me less than women who give birth and then fail to nurture or raise their children?

Mother's Day sucks.