Maybe this isn’t me…

When I look at my life over the past two months I see a pattern,

I get up, or I flop in my bed wishing I didn’t have to.
I eat breakfast
I get in the car and drive to work
I trudge through my day
I come home and eat dinner
I sit at the house with my husband.

We look for small, affordable houses
We watch TV or something on Netflix
We lament that we never go out and do anything.
We get angry at the dogs because they’re hyper, but we don’t take them to the park because it takes too much effort.

I really don’t have the energy for anything anymore. For the past month I’ve been out of town every weekend because of family drama, a business I’m trying to get off the ground involving my mom, the K, and Mary, or a trip to Michigan, or because my car broke down (f*** you car) — and working 40 hours a week plus overtime. Its taken quite a bit out of me. I’ve started gaining weight again and I feel miserable.

I could have been caught a few weeks ago screaming in my kitchen that my life wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Then there’s this…

I don’t feel like I should be posting on this site talking about my Real Life, when I’d really like to crawl under my couch and hide from my life. I know it has to get better eventually but I’m tired of trudging through something I should enjoy.

I’ve written three or four posts this week and they’ve all been condemned to the Drafts folder for re-working. This one was on its way to being one of them…but I’m going to post it…and tomorrow I’m going to post something else, and the next day something else. I will reclaim my blog.

and I’ll reclaim my life eventually…this is the first step down that road.


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