I hate this week.
My brain is wrapped around things that are way too personal to share.
In fact, I have seriously considered calling it quits with the blog and maybe even taking down what I’ve already posted.
I feel like going dark again, you know?
I’m not sure I remember why I started doing this.
I have to go get my son and then drive in it for 40 minutes to his therapy appointment.
I don’t want to.
My son will scream when we stop for red lights.
If we hit slower commute traffic on the way home, he will lose his mind.
My mind is already gone this week. Husband’s too, I think. Seems like we aren’t communicating well enough or something.
All I want to do is sit in the house with a book and a fire. I want to eat soup and drink tea and let my mind empty…or race. But at home, you know? Not in the car. Not out there, where I want sunglasses even when it’s dark.
I’m cold. My hair is up off my neck and it will stay there for the next two months because I impulsively asked my husband to cut off half of it this weekend. I have to wait for it to grow out a bit so that I can get it properly styled. Until then, my neck is cold and I feel kind of stupid and sad because I should have just gone to a salon. Even a bad one.
Husband did fine. He cut it straight across just like I asked. It’s just that I shouldn’t have asked. I never feel like I deserve a good haircut, you know? I’m a fool.
I’m down today. There’s no hiding it, I guess. The hair is just a drop in the bucket.
My kid has escalated his obsessive compulsive behaviors. It’s wearing me out. It’s also making my brain explode as I ponder the whole chicken/egg sort of questions about why it’s happening. Am I losing my mind because he is OC or is he OC because I’m losing my mind? Which came first? I think the reason no one can ever answer that question about chickens and eggs is because you go crazy before you hear it. You can’t answer because you’re already crazy when the question is posed.
That’s how it is in our house. We’re all going nuts because of my son’s obsessive compulsive behaviors. But my son might be obsessive compulsive because we’re all nuts.
Not even sure how finish this post.
I gotta go now.