I wrote this last night, but I needed to wait until this morning to re-read it…..
I never really thought I would be someone who pours their heart out on their blog. But now, when I’m feeling shitty, I just want to write. Maybe I can actually call myself a writer now.
Right now I don’t know whether I’ll ever publish this or if I’m just using writing as my therapy, but I always like to think I’ll publish what I write even if it’s straight from the heart. And then I think I’m a douche and no-one really wants to read this and I don’t really want anyone to read it either. Especially not my family and close friends. Although I know those that I’m really close to me and really care about me won’t mind.
It’s late and I’m tired and I’ve had some wine, plus I forgot to take my anti-depressants today (and also possibly yesterday too) – so the way I’m feeling is all probably because of that. I was alright today. But tonight I’m just feeling really shitty and sad and crying a lot. You know those times when life just seems way too hard? I don’t know how much of it is just tiredness and too much alcohol over a couple of days, and how much of it is just life being hard. But either way I’m feeling very crappy about myself, very overwhelmed with everything and stupidly sad.
I’ve also suddenly realised that although I thought that the six week holidays would really drag on and I wanted it to be over reasonably quickly, there’s actually only a few weeks left, which means that my daughter and I won’t be able to just do what we want every day anymore. It won’t just be me and her for a lot of the week, and that is pretty weird to think about. I’m also dreading it because school starting means the horrible school run twice a day to a place I don’t want to go to, and a school I don’t want my daughter to go to. Being closer to school starting means less time for that incredible letter to come shooting through my letterbox saying that she has finally got a place in the school we want. I know now it’s not going to happen before she starts, and I don’t want to move her once she’s settled (which I know she will be, very quickly – she’s bloody lovely and amazing and sometimes I wonder how I made something so wonderful), but I still rush to the door every day when the post comes. I’m ever hopeful (read: stupidly optimistic) that despite the fact she has only gone up one place on the waiting list in the last three months, that suddenly the five people in front of her will change their plans and our daily lives for the next five years will be how we want them to be.
All of the time that I’m writing this I’m thinking about whether I’ll actually end up publishing it, but I’ve had enough wine to know that I probably will. Isn’t it weird that on something such as a blog, that is entirely our own, to write on it exactly as we want to – we think far too much about what fits with the niche we are in or the community that we are a part of, and whether we should publish our honest feelings. And I also start thinking how no-one else writes things this personal and rambly and maybe I shouldn’t either. Sometimes I really just like writing about the thoughts in my head; but I also feel like an idiot and hope certain people in my family don’t read it and judge me.
I’m having a ‘I’m not good enough for anything moment’, and it’s pretty shitty. But I’ll be ok. If my body and mind will let me sleep properly for a night anytime soon, that is.