First, let me say that there was nothing terrible in my day. “First world problems,” my daughter calls them.
I woke up depressed. I cried in the shower. I cried on the way to work. I cried at work.
That’s really embarrassing because I’m the receptionist. No office or cubicle to hide in. I don’t think anyone noticed, though. I kept my face down, focusing on paperwork when someone walked by.
I kept making all kinds of stupid mistakes today. In the scheme of things, no big deal. But today, I just could not deal with it. I felt so wretched. I wanted to die.
Really. I did. I saw/see no point in my life.
My job is so meaningless. I feel like I am wasting my life.
In Toastmasters today, I signed up to be an Evaluator. I stumbled all over the place. Way too many “ums.” I felt so stupid. I wasn’t really embarrassed because it is a great club and everyone is supportive. But I felt awful about the job I did. But I won the “Best Evaluator” award for the meeting, anyway.
I went to the gym. Of course. That and blogging are basically the only ways I stay even part way sane. Today, though, all day, I felt thoroughly insane.
I wish I had a switch and could turn off my thoughts. Still keep functioning and do what I have to do, but not think. And not feel. Definitely not feel.
I went to WordPress to write this post, hoping I would feel better after I wrote, and I saw the most recent post on the blog, “my life in pajamas.” (Read post here.)
She writes about the lack of sex in a marriage to a PA man. The pain of a sexless marriage is unbearable. I think that is the thing I hate most about being married to him. That, and that my daughters don’t have a daddy.
I was going to write about that – the lack of sex – too, but if I do, I will start crying again and I need to not cry.
I am so worn out.
I keep thinking about a blog that I was recently introduced to. This lady has moved, with her soulmate, into a 12×12 writer’s cottage. (See blog here.)
I’m jealous that she was able to downsize that much. I don’t think I can ever go down to that, but I do seriously wish I did not have so much stuff.
I’m jealous that she lives a magical, blissful life as a poet and philosopher, that she seems to have built what she wants for her life, that she is striving to live an authentic life.
And I am jealous that she is with her soulmate.
At the moment, I can’t even come up with a vision for my own life, let along make any progress towards it. Even though I am jealous of her, I wish her well in her new adventure.
Maybe tomorrow will be a better day for me.