So today I took the time to speak to someone.
Because I can't rely on others to fix me. I have to do it.
And write about it.
Obvi.
You see, I loathe myself. I have no faith in my abilities. My ability to parent my kids, which I think I'm shit at and which is kinda why I don't blog anymore because I don't want people to know how bad I am at this parenting gig. Today my son told me that he just wants me to play with him. Heart fucking broken.
My job, my lack of skills, my inability to move forward. I've been doing the same job for 11 years. But it's my fault. I've had no increase in pay. No advancement. Nothing. It's fucking depressing. Every time that I think that I'm good at my job, I question why I'm still there. Why am I still doing the same thing? Maybe I'm just not that good at anything. Not everyone is clever and talented and good at things. Maybe this is exactly where I need to be and this is it. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say but the fact remains that I'm still doing the same thing 11 years later. Speaks for itself really.
The fact that we are broke 99% of the time. Living paycheck to paycheck, barely scraping by and unable to do things on weekends with the kids as we literally can't afford the fuel. Last weekend I used various gift cards that I found in my purse to buy fruit and bread for my kids to eat.
I don't know where I'm going wrong.
I was exercising, I was feeling happy, and then I wasn't. And I started eating junk food all the time and my clothes got too tight and I looked in the mirror and just wanted to vomit. I don't want to have sex with my husband because I don't respect anyone who would be attracted to this. I can't look at myself in the mirror. I feel angry alot. I resent my husband's carefree attitude, my kids getting everything done for them, everyone else for being happy and succeeding in life, buying homes, getting good jobs, having well-behaved children...
Last week I was feeling so bad that I wanted to run away and leave my family and never come back. But I didn't want my kids to be sad. And miss me. And hate me. Because mother's don't leave their kids unless they're awful scum of the earth human beings.
Right?
I was going to apply for a position today that I'm woefully under qualified for, but the thing is, that I could do it!! I could do this job! And I would love it!
But I was sick and scared and I didn't do it.
It closed this afternoon.
Which I guess is why I am where I am today.
Because I'm not willing to take risks and feel even worse about myself when I ultimately fail. The perennial pessimist.
Is it any wonder that I feel as shit as I do?
Yes. I'm working on it.
Yes. I know that this is irrational and I'm obviously having some sort of episode.
Yes. I'm a drama queen for sharing all this on my blog.
No. I'm not going to kill myself. I wouldn't even know where to start. And I'm way too scared to attempt ANYTHING remotely self-harming unless you count eating multiple bags of potato chips and chocolate chip cookies in one sitting...
I just need a stern talking to and to let go of my bullshit. I just don't think I can dig myself out of that on my own at this time. And that's why we should always speak up and talk to someone if shit gets too much.
It's not weakness.
It's ok to not be ok.
