Shut your lip, bitch.

Aaaaah, so fucking sick of humans. They have a way of tearing me down to bring themselves up. Not cool, assholes. Not cool. Just everyone, try leaving me alone and letting me be myself. Without all your snide, selfish, petty, pseudo-intellectual, hipster, pretentious, hateful and self-absorbed MOTHER FUCKING BULLSHIT.

Tunes. I like them.

I'm floating above myself as I run on my treadmill. I drive to and from work in another world. When I shower, I do so in a karaoke bar. Know why? Music. Because I'm either blasting it or singing, I am not inside my skin anymore. Or I am all skin, a ball of nerve endings and breath. I simply exist in the ether, connected to everything.  Sometimes I don't know what the fuck is happening afterward. I inject the audio and trip balls. Of course I didn't hear you, my headphones were making sweet, sweet love to my ears. I'm not driving unless the bass is vibrating my bones, stirring me up, mimicking my soul (or vice versa). It drowns out the thoughts of others. I am not me, I am anyone, I am the color red or a wild animal.

But...but...I wanna go too.

I need to get out. My brother is taking Dave to a death metal show in Luray this weekend and it seems probable I'll have to stay home with Lucy. Dammit. I love my daughter, but sometimes I just need out. When Dave was little, I just brought him with me to parties and such (nothing too wild, and he always had proper supervision, I'm not a terrible mother) and I was so free. It felt delicious. I'm pretty goddamn stuck lately.

Sending up my Bat Signal

I hate those nights where I feel like I'm the only one alive. The only one aware and listening. Only one with human emotions. In overdrive. Like...now. Somebody?

Looking up

I should be kept away from blogger when I'm feeling down. The stupidest shit gets written. I cringe at how angry and pathetic I sound sometimes. Today is a nice day. It's warm. I went outside barefoot and blew bubbles with Lucy, which felt good (aside from the apparent wasp problem we have around our front door, that's rather shitty). I'm losing weight. Lots of it, actually. I'm finally starting to feel good in my own skin. I just need to drop a little more weight and BOOM, I will finally fit into my Mr Bubble pajama pants, and that will be glorious, my friends.

My mom's been in and out of the hospital. I was seriously worried for awhile, because she had to undergo three operations (she had to have her gallbladder removed, then had some sort of nasty bile leakage that needed to be fixed after that) and then still had to go back after all that with pancreatitis. It had me a little crazy, I guess, because I'm very close with my mom. But now it looks like she's in the clear and will probably go home tomorrow. Whew.

I've been getting my stomach aches again. Every morning. Sometimes at night now. Fuck, I think this has been an issue now since at least high school, but it's been just about daily the last 12 years or so, since the birth of my oldest. I don't think I'll see the doctor about it, because I've done that and the medication they had me on made me too drowsy to drive. Fuck that, man. Both doctors I'd seen attributed it to stress. I thought maybe it was IBS. Thought maybe drinking was making it worse, too, but I stopped drinking for awhile and there was no change. Still have no idea, also can't afford a doctor visit. No damn insurance.

But anyway, bitches, I'm feeling happy today.

High / Low

My highs and lows are becoming unpredictable. One minute I want to throw things, scream, sometimes I feel like curling up and dying, and then I'll be so happy that my face hurts from smiling (random RHPS reference, "Even smiling makes my face ache!") and all's I want to do is robot dance. When there is none of these extremes, there is numb. I hope that getting regular exercise and eating better helps my moods, but they seem to be getting worse these past few months. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

Right now I'm in a shitty angry mood. I was fine while I was running the treadmill, I could just daydream and think and listen to my music and everyone left me the fuck alone. I need a punching bag. I need to hibernate. I need time for myself where I don't have to be mom for awhile. I want to fucking be ME sometimes, not what everyone else needs me to be. AAAUGH, HULK SMASH!

Just not my night.

I can't form a fucking thought with this kid constantly talking and jumping around. I just want some time to myself where I don't have to listen to a four year old's stream of thought or have someone bugging me to look at this, look at this, looooooook. My patience is wearing VERY FUCKING THIN.

I just need time to think. I get time to do that on the treadmill, which is why I treasure my time on it. That or in the shower or car -- no one interrupting my thoughts. I feel selfish. I'm a mom, I'm supposed to put my kids before myself.

I just want my writing back. I write a little, but not nearly everything that I need to. When I have something like a feeling/poem that needs to get out, but I'm not in a situation where I feel like I can write, it's like being constipated.  I can't write until everyone in this family is in bed, I'm just completely uninspired until then. I need to drink to get all this tension out, all this anger I have about...life.

I thought I would quit drinking (it's hell for trying to lose weight), but I can't. When I'm sober, I feel that sort of numb, much like when I was on Celexa but none of the calm. I couldn't write then, either. I want to cry and scream and throw things and curl up into a ball and escape from the world.

time passes...

Nevermind. Kids in bed, amazing smiles now. Drink is good. Laughs to be had. Whooda thunk. It's turning into a better night.