3.5 hours of sleep. That’s how much sleep I’ve been getting every night. The only way I get more sleep in 24 hours is if I nap. This has been going on for days.
I feel really overwhelmed with sadness. I don’t belong. I don’t fit. I am not part of a group larger than the nuclear family I am creating and that hurts. I’m not denigrating my family, I’m grateful for them. I’m completely certain I’d be done without them.
I don’t fit in a community. I “know” I have friends. But the fact that most people can bear a few hours per year of my company because I am so terrible…
I don’t see a lot of good in me. I see that I am bad.
I am starting to feel worried about being extremely depressed throughout my pregnancy partially because I am refusing to allow myself to take much pot. That’s so complicated.
I am having a hard time with how much exercise my body is demanding. Yesterday was so hot we barely moved. So by 7pm my legs ached and burned and I finally said, “Let’s go walk through an air conditioned store.” I NEED a level of exercise I don’t usually maintain or everything feels so bad I want to scream and rip my skin off.
I’m having a hard time with the whole “neighborhood friends” thing. People keep moving. It’s hard to keep trying knowing that it will take a whole bunch of energy from me and then people won’t reciprocate because they’ll move.
I feel pointless and stupid. I feel so sad.
My kids are in an intense sibling rivalry stage. Probably the most intense of their lives and I’m struggling to not be an explosive bitch.
I’m struggling with the fact that most of the people I know don’t want to spend time together unless you are out doing something expensive together. I have this visceral feeling that spending money all the time on entertainment is toxic. So I opt out of things that we could technically be invited to and then I feel alienated and alone. Because I opt out. Because people really don’t want to spend time together without a separate distraction/focus very often.
I miss my mother.
I miss Claudia.
I’m worried about my cat.
My mama could make a good time last all day and only spend $5.
I feel like who and what I am is inherently bad and nothing I can do will change that.
I feel like I am most interesting when I want to be abused and when I don’t then I’m just too much fucking work.
I’m not eating that many calories either. I’m not hungry. Tracking on the fitbit makes me crazy. But I know I’m going to have to argue over whether or not I deserve to have food while overweight so I need data.
I feel like I have an extreme form of cabin fever. But I don’t really want to go anywhere or talk to anyone because I feel like I am a terrible piece of shit who should not inflict my horrible presence on anyone.
The kids and I negotiated that they will go to the part time charter school operated through the district next year. We need a little more space. It’s only a few hours a week (under 10) and I feel like that’s a wise transition for my children with ants in their pants.
Someone recently told me to just send them to school and make them adjust. I think Stanford was right when they said that my kids would have severe emotional and behavioral difficulties if forced into a standard classroom right now. They are so distractible. They have so much energy they can’t stop moving.
All of us do a lot of flapping/stimming. I think it is kind of funny. No one shames anyone in this house for having weird tension outlets. I don’t really want to send them to school so they can find out how “weird” they are.
Why do I feel so ashamed of myself I want to curl up into a ball and cry for years?
I don’t fit anywhere. I don’t belong anywhere. I’m not good at making Noah feel loved and that’s one of my main jobs in this life. I can’t seem to figure out how to convince my Future Middle Child that their life isn’t a shit sandwich that must be reviled. Your life may not be 100% perfect, but I struggle to see how it is that bad.
I can’t imagine being them and having what they have. I’ve never in my life been loved and cosseted the way my kids are and it still isn’t enough. What I have to give is not enough. I am not enough.
Maybe I know a little bit about how my mom felt. She was never enough either. Lately I feel really ashamed of myself and I wonder if I was as ridiculous as my child is. Was I similarly demanding about how nothing was good enough no matter how good?
I wanted a home and to live with my mother and my siblings full time. I wanted to go to the same school for more than a year in a row. I wanted to have people in my life I knew for longer than a few months.
My mom couldn’t provide any of that. It wasn’t her fault.
I feel like it is all my fault my child isn’t going to have a more consistent set of people in their life forever. I chase people off. Folks can only stand me for so long before they wear out. Because I am bad.
I’m only 5.5 fucking weeks pregnant and I’m already having a hard time wearing some clothes. They are too tight in the waist and they hurt. I’m not going to be able to wear most of my pants-that-fasten past 7 weeks. I can tell. I haven’t gained any weight at all. Things are just shifting. Like they do.
I’m going to go walk before I talk to Jenny.