no, this is the beginning.

ok. i stopped bitching and whining. i took a good look at myself two weeks ago, and shored up every resource i had, and made some changes. i don't know where all the optimism came from, but it was there, all of a sudden. crystal clear and magnificent.

and this voice in my head: "you have the strength for this. if you have the strength for your mother, you have the strength for this."

why shouldn't i be happy? i deserve it!

perhaps this is the deep end.

i came to admit some truths to myself this week, after returning from visiting with my brother and his fiance. and while none of this is a revelation, i am stunningly clear on the fact that i am clawing my way out of yet another depression.

i am able to say outloud:

1 - that i am dreadfully unhappy with my personal life

2 - that i lead two lives: the happy professional, and the miserable hermit

3 - that i am disappointed that my brother doesn't need me anymore

4 - that i am still unable to shut my mother's influence out completely

5 - that i spend most of my day completely hating myself.

i don't know how to fix all this. i mean, i DO know how to fix it. but i am unable to start the process. unable, or unwilling? probably the latter.

when did i get so lazy when it came to changing myself? this was always such an easy thing to start. fire myself up, and get out there and try it. now, i just want to sleep, and sit, and watch cartoons so that i don't have to do the dishes, or plan, or exercise, or make decisions. i hide in this cozy little apartment until i am FORCED to take action. when the dishes are overflowing, and i have no clean spoons. when i am out of socks.

i don't care.

i don't care about any of it.

i just want to stay in this curled up little ball, and stop moving. stop going to work. stop caring about anything.

my brain, however, is fighting this desire, but only to a point. my sad little heart is winning. and i can't help but wonder if all the dreams about my mother this week have something to do with the weight on my heart.

no, no. this is me. this is about me. i truly hate so many things about myself, that i cannot see how anyone else would ever value them. i know intellectually that this must start with my own self-image. but frankly, i think i'm going to just go to bed. have a shot of jameson. and ignore the incredible beast of guilt gnawing on my conscience.

who could ever love a fat girl?

mother's day hurts

this month has been hard. particularly hard. my job is still interfering with my life, and my general state of mind. i can't seem to get from one day to the next without crying at some point. this is not good. i am not ok.

with all the unhappiness at work, it's now becoming increasingly obvious to me that i am so very, very unhappy in life. i told my group of ladies last night that i felt like i was stagnant, running in circles, and too lazy to change anything. i said, "i wish i was in the mood for healing." because honestly, my entire week means surviving from one weekend to the next.

and in the middle of all this, "woe is me," fucking mother's day is coming. this is mother's day #4 without a mother. usually, this holiday would revolve around seeing my grandmother. she spent so much time as my substitute that i know in my heart she is part mother to me as well. but i am working on mother's day. seeing mothers and kids together. and i'm going to lose it a little bit.

sunday will be the kind of day that i want to curl into a ball and drink a bottle of jameson. i'd like to forget all about it. and yes, i know it's a made-up, hallmark holiday, but it still hurts. a dull, slow pain in my heart.

even now, i feel like crying.

something's gotta give.