Cloudy Days are getting me down
What the hell happened? It went from 90 degree weather to this relentless cold and constant rain. It’s been a week. And I’m suffocating! My shoe selection has diminished by at least 70%, and if you know me, that’s a BFD. Gone are the days of tank tops and heels. We flat-out skipped an entire season! The high yesterday was 48. So here I sit, grieving, pissed, and catching myself on Day 5 with some other strange feelings…
I was sitting around my house yesterday, staring at the mini-messes that had piled up over the last few days. Evidence of not just my husband being out of town and the kids’ usual packed schedules, but something else. I was officially in a funk. Do you ever stare at everything you have to do and just… want to crawl into a hole? That was me. I didn’t want to clean up, get up, drive anywhere, step outside, talk to anyone, or even change my shitty attitude. I even wracked my brain trying to think of something to be depressed about so I could go full-on with this comfortable isolation I was settling into.
MAJOR DANGER. I can’t afford to do this anymore. This is the type of thinking that starts the ball rolling. I think I have to clean the entire house by the end of the day. I have to go buy two weeks of groceries with a meal plan prepared because (allegedly) that’s what A+ moms do. I need to be grateful for the rain because of drought and crops and shit. I need be managing better in general and not be sniffing socks in the laundry basket to find a “clean” pair for my 7 yr old and not be scrambling for random items to throw into lunch boxes five minutes before we’re out the door. I need to be a better wife. I’m probably a bad writer. Nobody cares. I need to call my mom more.
By then, for made-up reasons, I think I’m the worst, and I’m completely overwhelmed. And since I’m already irrational as hell, I think a drink will settle me down, and without a second thought I do it.
GRATEFULLY, I’m free from that today. But only because I took the time in recovery to figure my crazy-ass out. To tell on myself. To be honest with myself and others about what’s really going on. Maybe some people can afford to fake it and stuff their feelings until the storm passes. I learned the hard way I’m not one of them. I’m grateful for that, too! It’s given me an amazing life.