I haven’t been sleeping well. I hate my huge empty bed. I hate that I’m curled into a single corner every night, pressed up against pillows in the fetal position, my back against the wall.
I’ve started to realize there’s never going to be a permanent male fixture in my bed. I should sell this Queen and go back to my childhood Twin.
I stare at the ceiling every night, my mind playing tricks on me. Sometimes I swear I hear someone walking through the house, doors opening, walls thumping. I know the weather is getting colder and I’m just getting readjusted to my noisy heater, and the creaky response of this house, but I haven’t been able to shake it lately.
I feel alone, and not in the good way I used to rave about. I feel isolated. I feel cold. I feel scared. I feel weak. And I fucking KNEW this would happen when I started bringing men back into my life.
Why the hell did I do it?
I can’t sleep anymore. I cry at night. I’ve stopped blogging (as you can see). I haven’t worked on my screenplay. I look at my Wii Fit and I can’t find the motivation to climb onto the balance board. I get home from work, put my pajamas on, make dinner for LB, and go through the bedtime routine.
After she’s asleep, I sit on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. Sometimes I drink tea. Sometimes I read. Mostly I just stare at the TV until I force myself to go lay down. Do I sleep once I’m in bed? No.
Work has been getting consistently worse. The impending doom of everyone’s job is obviously chiseling away at the office’s morale. Ironically, more job duties have been passed my way. More responsibilities, bigger workload, more cross-training, more requests, more projects…you get the picture. I’m busy all day, chatting with Chivman and Facebooking is the only reprieve I get. I know social networking on the clock is a big “No No”, but honestly, in the face of massive layoffs, no one gives a shit anymore.
I need an attitude adjustment NOW. I find myself saying f***ed up things like “This is where that imaginary husband would come in handy” MORE and MORE often. I don’t like that longing in my life. What happened to my complete satisfaction with self-sufficiency? Did I forget that I’ve been taking care of myself AND my daughter for the last 3 years? Why am I whining?
Maybe I’m just going through that 10% of the time I don’t like being alone, and praying it doesn’t get to be 20%. I don’t have the energy to pine away the rest of my life. And oh how the Damsel in Distress Pisces would love that.
In an attempt to ward this off, I’ve been playing this song over and over. I may be crazy, but dance music is kinda like my non-narcotic antidepressant.