A ship without a rudder is like a ship without a rudder…
September 25, 2010 :: 10:05 PM
queen’s guard :: buckingham palace, london :: august 31, 2008
I’ve been a complete wreck lately, and I’m amazed that I’ve kept any outward signs to a minimum. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell. I’m an excellent actress.
It’s not just about the boy, even though he is in my thoughts and won’t go away.
It’s about my general dissatisfaction with myself: my financial situation, my weight, my bipolar, you name it.
I want to build the house in Shapleigh so bad, but I’m stressed out over the cash needs. Don’t get me wrong, we’re moving right along, but I’m so impatient. So. Very. Impatient. Short of winning the lottery, or robbing a bank, there’s nothing more I can do. Well, I could sell my car, my dogs, the husband, the house… and then I could be all alone and miserable in a cardboard box while my money earns insane amounts of interest in the bank and grows more quickly. Right. (And yes, I know - I’m a poor baby because I want to build a second house. Bite me. My father’s estate bought me that land. I’m just trying to live the life he wanted for me.)
My knees are bothering me. A lot. To the point where fencing isn’t fun. I baby them a metric shit ton during the week because fencing is so hard on them, but they’re just being cranky. They don’t get to be cranky - not after everything I’ve done to get them healthy. Of course, how do you reduce stress on your knees? You exercise. But, you can’t if they’re being bastards. Catch-22, much?
In related news, I look HAWT in my new bodice. However, my rear doesn’t look as stunning as my front. Part of my booty battle is that I do have a slight curve to my spine that pushes my butt out. The other part is, well, baby got back. Since exercising is on the back burner (HA!), I’m going to invest in some Spanx before I wear garb again. The funny / sad thing is (and I don’t know how I do it) that I normally dress in a way that makes me look like I’m a healthy weight, hides the muffin top, and keeps the booty where it belongs. Of course, that’s a natural talent - I can’t do it under pressure, unless I’m shopping for a little black dress. Any other specialty clothing needs? Forget it.
Last, but certainly not least, is the fucking bipolar. I’m in a depressed part of my cycle. I know what my trigger is. I’m working hard to avoid it. I’m failing miserably. I think I’ve said before that I tend to exist in a mixed state… so, I’m anxious, not sleeping, and all the other fun parts of being manic, in addition to not wanting to move from the bed, to holding back the tears, and all the other parts of being in a deep depression. I don’t know how to describe it… take your highest high and your lowest low, toss ‘em in a blender, shake well before serving? At any rate, it’s driving me crazy. (Yeah, I went there.)
I’m itching for a road trip. We were supposed to go to the Big E this weekend, but the hubby has caught the plague, so we’re staying home. I’ve spent all day today playing the Sims and hating myself for not being productive. (Bipolar mixed state at it’s finest. Depression won this round.) Maybe tomorrow, I’ll give into the mania for a bit. Maybe I’ll just get in the car and drive. Anywhere. Somewhere. Nowhere. I don’t care. Driving with the music loud drowns out the voices in my head and it’s been too long since I’ve had a good road trip. My daily commute just doesn’t cut it. It’s not long enough. (Maybe I should look for a job in Boston: an hour drive + crazy traffic = long ass commute.)
Gah.
The only good thing to come out of this week? I’m one week closer to the start of BU’s hockey season. w00t!
