I really miss Zoloft. It was like a fluffy pillow protecting me from life’s jagged edges. I would hit them, but it didn’t really hurt. Now when I hit them, it hurts like hell.
I wonder what the hell I was thinking getting my daughter a cat, as I sit here with my eyes damn near swollen shut and a runny nose and watery eyes…not to mention the demise of everything in my house from a nice rug to the couch to plantation shutters to every dang toothbrush we have. And the cat pees in the bathtub. Ew.
I wish I could see what it’s like, even for just a day, to be a total bitch. I’d really like to just be mean as hell, not give a shit, and have no concept of what it’s like to be a doormat.
I miss being married. Remember, the title of the blog is "Sometimes." Just sometimes.
I start to realize that I will probably never really know what it’s like for someone to be so in love with me, that they couldn’t — wouldn’t — imagine not having me in their life. I have always been, and probably always will be, replaceable. And I realize that much of that is probably my fault. It has to be, or it wouldn’t keep happening.
I think I can cook, and then when I try, I’m reminded that I can’t cook. Even when I follow the recipe.
The reality of the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make comes crashing in on me with such force that I can barely breathe because I’m so terrified of the future.
I laugh out loud at the stupid shit and do and it kind of echoes because I’m usually alone if I’m not with my kids. It’s weird to laugh out loud all alone — at yourself.
I want a glass of wine but realize I will only drink one glass, thus wasting the rest of the bottle because I probably won’t want anymore again for a few days, if not longer. And it feels kind of pathetic to sit here, alone, and drink wine. And more pathetic to waste it.
I think maybe I was meant to be alone. And then other times, I refuse to accept that.
I flip through my Bible in hopes of landing on just the right passage to give me inspiration and guidance on a particular problem. Almost every time, it works. It even happened today.
I try to smell one of my Papa’s old hats I got from his closet after he passed away. The scent reminds me of good memories in my childhood. I’ll be sad when it eventually loses that scent.
I just take a few bits of whatever my kids are having for dinner or maybe grab a handful of chips for dinner because it’s one of the saddest parts of the day for me. It’s the hour I feel like the biggest failure. My kids come home to an over-tired, over-stressed mom who can’t cook and barely has enough time to bathe them and get homework done. They eat typical "kid food" on the go, in the living room, or quickly at the table and run. They should be sitting around the table with their mom and dad, eating something nutritious, and talking about their day and winding down.
I really don’t want to know what’s going to happen next because I’m convinced that based on previous experience, it can’t be good. And then other times, I just can’t wait because I’m convinced it has to get better from here.
I stay up much later than I should….like right now……