Conversations in my brain

I have my next counselling session this Saturday, and I haven’t done my homework.

I was meant to have a discussion with my partner about how I feel about our relationship. How I dream about being free. How I think separation might be the best thing for both of us.

But I haven’t. The right moment hasn’t arisen. We still stick to our own individual routinea and spaces each night, bith of us avoiding conversation with one another. Of course an opportunity isn’t going to arise like that. I could probably give him the “We need to talk” routine, but that would immediately get his back up. He’d be on the defensive and it would just become an argument, and I don’t want that.

I imagine myself having the conversation with him and him being in complete agreement. We agree to figure things out over the next year, and I move out at the beginning of 2016. During the school holidays, so the kids can get settled. We agree that it doesn’t have to be bitter and acrimonious and the kids are our priority. I imagine myself struggling on my single income, but still happily single. I have rented a 3-bedroom villa in the next suburb. He has started a relationship with a longterm friend of his. She’d be perfect for him: outdoorsy and horse-faced and relentlessly independent. She would want companionship and sex, and someone to travel with, rather than a relationship.

Maybe it could all be happily ever after, after all.

Compulsion

It’s the silly season, and my mind is playing games with me. Dabbling with thoughts of drinking. “Just a champagne at the Christmas party. Just while you’re with your co-workers. Just don’t bring it home.”

There’s a part of me that think this seems reasonable, and another part that thinks I’m an idiot.

Meanwhile, I’m shopping on eBay like there’s no tomorrow, heedless of the fact that I’m going to be without an income for 4 weeks over Christmas. I haven’t been at my job for long enough to receive annual leave, so I’m taking it as leave without pay.

Luckily we had put aside the majority of my bonus from my previous job, so that will pay for Christmas. I’m selling a bunch of stuff on eBay as well, so that should bring in a few hundred as well.

But still, I’m searching for that perfect item that will bring me complete happiness. My excuse is I need to rebuild my work wardrobe for my new job, which is partly true, but I just can’t seem to help myself. It’s that momentary surge of exhilaration when you find something prety, something that fits, something that looks just perfect. But of course it’s short-lived, and then I’m off in search of my next hit.

I don’t know how to break this cycle.

Uncomfortable

I am overweight.

When I had my eldest child, my weight ballooned as I comfort ate to help deal with the overwhelming depression I was experiencing. After about a year, I took myself in hand and started exercising and watching what I ate, and I lost around 25kg. I wasn’t skinny, but I was a comfortable, easily maintainable weight, but most importantly I was fit and healthy. I put in a few kg again after my second, but nothing out of the ordinary. After my third, I comfort ate and drank again, and my weight got to the highest it has ever been. I have lost 10kg since then, but for the past 5 years, my weight has been more or less stable.

I have been okay with this. I dress quite well, and look after my skin, and generally take a lot of care about my appearance. I’m still an attractive woman, despite the excess weight.

I’ve tried to enthuse myself into a fitness regime from time to time over the years, but it has never seem to stick. And, frankly, I didn’t care enough before.

Something’s changed though. I’m noticing I look flabbier than I did before. I am noticing I’m puffing more than I did before. I have a bad hip and back, and I’m sure it’s due to excess weight. When I bend over, it’s uncomfortable.

I think being fat is no longer comfortable for me. Or maybe it’s just that now I’m working part-time, the pace of my life has slowed enough for me to notice.

Time for some changes, I think.

“I hate this life”

I sent that in a text to my partner the other day, when I was on the train to work.  And I do.  I just don’t know what I hate about it.  He didn’t respond, but that evening he said to me, “You need to figure out what it is that you hate about it and start fixing it.”

And I resented that.  Because I know that already.  I resented the fact that he can’t see that I have been desperately trying to “fix” it for the past god-knows-how-many years, but I go nowhere.  I still feel lost and directionless.

I don’t even know what it is that I hate, really.  Well, I hate having to go out to work, that’s for sure.  I hate being one of the people in suits and heels trundling along the platform and jostling for the best position in the train of a morning/afternoon.  My job is okay, I guess, but I hate the need for it.  I hate being one of thousands of people all doing the same thing.  I hate making meetings for people so that they can set agendas for other meetings.  I hate having to get up at 5.45.  I hate that my weekends are almost always spent at home in front of the tv or  computer once the running around after the kid activities is over with.  I hate that I have no friends that I can catch up with on my days off; that there is no-one that I can even think of to go for a coffee with.  I hate housework.

I hate that I’m just existing and not living.  I hate that I can’t find myself something that brings me true joy, that is just for me, so instead I go shopping to give myself a lift.

Supposed to be happy

This is the first “downer” I’ve had since I commenced medication 6 months ago. On the one hand I kind of think, “Hey! You’re not supposed to feel like this!” But on the other, I guess I’m relieved that I can still “feel”, if you know what I mean.

I don’t really know why. I guess it’s a combo of relationship stuff, and new job stuff and I guess also the dawning realisation that being on medication is not the universal panacea. There is still crap in my life, and unfulfilled dreams, and things I am unhappy about. The good thing, though, is that I’m better placed to deal with them, mentally speaking.

So what can I do to shake off the blues?

1. Exercise (yeah, maybe this afternoon);
2. Go out and do something I enjoy (like op shopping!);
3. Talk to someone (umm … who?);
4. Sing (again, maybe later);
5. Get up and do something, like housework (*whiny voice* you always expect me to do EVERYTHING!!);
6. Read (I’m kind of sick of reading at the moment).

Alternatively, I could just do not much at all and allow myself to feel blue for a while. Just accept that it’s there.

Another dreary Saturday night

My kids are bored. I’m bored.

Our lives have become an endless cycle of nothing again. I’m sitting here at 9.45pm on yet another Saturday night spent doing nothing. This is not the life I envisaged. I wanted a life of happiness; of joy and fun. Instead I’m watching the minutes tick by and wondering if it’s too early to go to bed even though I’m not tired. I’ve flicked throgub Facebook and I’m seeing photos of various friends enjoying themselves with their husbands and wives. And I’m envious.

At my last session with my psychologist, I was assigned the task of addressing our relationship issues with my partner. Because we can’t go on like this. I don’t want this life where I’m holed up in my bedroom on the computer because I don’t want to spend time with the person downstairs. The same life where he sits on his laptop in front of the TV because he can’t be bothered with the person upstairs.

But I haven’t addressed anything with him. Why? Probably because I don’t have the courage. Or the energy. Or because in my heart of hearts, I don’t want to address it; I just want to do my escape thing. And probably because I know how it will go; his distance/lack of interest is all my fault. He doesn’t talk to me because I did x, y or z. There’s always a reason, and it’s always my fault. And I just can’t be bothered with it anymore. And yes, I know it’s my fault as much as his, since one of has to make a positive at some point. I’m just sick of it always being me.

So instead I have to content myself with weekends so boring I want to scream and start throwing stuff at the walls.