wow, i’m bloo.
i’ll blame my uterus today, but i’m fairly assured the overarching reasons are valid and as soul-crushing as they feel at this moment. i’m just not usually flooded with hormones and cramps enough to let them get to me this way.
i tried to explain to a co-worker my desire to void my life of all my stuff, only to build it back up in a more mindful manner. she didn’t get it. she kept saying things like “that would cost a lot of money” or “couldn’t you keep your nice couch? maybe put it in a different spot?” uh, no. that’s not really the point.
although, the point seems to be a bit of a moving target in my head right now.
as i type this, i want it all gone. all of it. bare walls, bare floors, empty shelves, empty closets, nothing but me sitting in the middle of my living room floor staring up at the rippled ceiling. then a coat of blisteringly white paint over everything. after that…
and it’s gone.
right now, i want to go to bed with a cat on either side of me and not come out unless there’s pizza or a sack of money enough to keep me in the manner to which i’ve become accustomed.
i wish i wasn’t smart. if i were stupid, maybe i wouldn’t realize i’m not living up to my potential and i wouldn’t be so damn disappointed in myself. maybe i’d be happy with my dreary day-to-day and unable to see that there could be so much more, of only i hadn’t done X, Y or Z in my past to limit my options today.
it’s times like these i really wish i liked to drink or do recreational drugs. it sometimes feels like an acceptable coping method. but, i don’t. and that makes me feel even more pathetic.
blah. just ignore me. that’s kind of what i want right now, anyway.
*hugs*
This sounds like you’re an anti-hoarder (i.e. the diametric opposite of a hoarder, that is, not that you’re against hoarders, though you probably are and that’s not a bad thing). Maybe you need to come over to your hoarder friends’ houses and clear them out. Don’t try it with me, though, or I will start screaming.
You and I are in a similar space, sounds like. It’s been hitting me like a ton of bricks that I am not happy. That I could, and should, be doing something different with my life. Painted into a corner, mostly due to financial constraints, but still blinded by the fact that I hate my job, I hate getting up for it every morning, I hate knowing that not only am I not living up to my potential, but I am nowhere near doing something that feeds me, my spirit, my creativity…
Yeah. If I lived closer I’d ask you to share a cat.
Also, booze & drugs are merely a brief respite, and then it all comes back, but worse, because those things are (or can be) emotionally depleting.
Okay, now I’ll ignore you. *hug*
Hugs, just hugs.
You are loved!