That is how I feel right now. It beats the awful mood I was in all day at work though. I think I am PMS’ing. I must be. A colleague visiting from another location was bragging that his wife is 33 weeks pregnant but measuring 38 weeks. The visitors were laughing with him. His glee and their laughter and good wishes got right under my skin…right under it. I could not bear it this morning. I thought of informing him of a million ways in which life could inexplicably snatch that happiness away. I thought about it. And then I thought about what was really getting me angry, and I realized that I was jealous of his abililty to be happy. Not of the baby really, but about the fact that they were all just happy. I don’t like happy people much these days and their stupid optmism and their ability to make future plans with babies not yet born. Sometimes, I just downright hate all happy people.
I’m eating my weight in food at the moment. I nourish my body and hope that somehow my soul will benefit and feel better. It’s not helping. When I breathe in, I feel knots in my stomach. I feel so gutted. I don’t want this life, I just want my girls. I am so tired of coming home from work to an empty home (my husband is working crazy hours again). I am so fucking tired of wishing and hoping for things to be different…so tired of listing the blessing in my life and how things could be worst. I am tired of lying to myself and forcing myself through this life of mine. The truth is things could be better – much better- and I can think of two ways…Emi and Daniella.
I’m going to take a nice long shower now and sedate myself with a margarita. Hopefully that should do it – because I’m all out of prayers, happy thoughts and positive thinking – alcohol is the only amo I have right now – and beleive you me – my bar is loaded.