I had a Bad Day again….
August 25, 2011 § 7 Comments
I am sitting here typing on the computer…watching North by Northwest. One of my favorite Hitchcock movies & all I want to do is cry.
Cry cause I feel so alone.
cry cause I hate my life.
cry cause I just said that out loud.
cry cause I just want to run away.
cry cause that means I would hafta leave my kids.
cry cause Diva screams so loudly my head hurts so much.
cry cause of freakin crickets!
cry cause I know tonight my husband wont help.
cry cause I’m tired.
cry cause I don’t want to be a mother sometimes.
cry cause people think I’m crazy.
cry cause I have no one to talk to (our insurance sucks).
cry cause my husband isn’t really that supportive.
cry cause no one really understands me right now.
cry cause we have such debt, Mr. Man is forced to work 2 jobs.
cry cause I feel like no one likes me.
cry cause I feel stupid for saying that.
I just wanna cry.
How do people do this? How am I supposed to just grin and bear it? Why is it so wrong for me to cry?
Another thing I want to know – why do people think PPD means something is wrong with someone? It just means I’m tired, and frustrated and sad.
Why can’t I be sad?
Even another thing – why do I care so much what people think of me? I went to church on Sunday for the first time since Diva was born. Everyone kept asking me how I was. I couldn’t bring myself to answer them. I just kept saying: tired.
Why couldn’t I be honest? Why did I hafta say tired? Why couldn’t I say terrible?
I even struggled to tell my best friend Mrs. Awesome. It was like I thought she was gonna judge me. There is one woman at church who does know…besides Mrs. Awesome.
We’ll call her K.
I dreaded seeing her. Like she was gonna give me that pathetic look. You know that look…that aww you are one sick puppy and you can’t even handle being a mom.
The same look I thought Mrs. Awesome was gonna give me. Mrs. Awesome didn’t give me that look but K did. I hate that look so much. I know she didn’t mean to. She suffered from depression as well. She knew what I was going through…ugh. I hate that look.
I have a twitter account … family follows me on it. I don’t want to share this blog on that site because I don’t want them to know what I am going through.
Why? Cause they’ll treat me differently.
God why do I care?
Sigh….I better go diva is about to get up for her bottle. And Lord knows I am the only one that can feed her.
God, I hate my life sometimes. It’s so boring. So predictable.