I’m still alive, out here, trying to survive day to day. I feel like I’m in a rut with everything in my life, especially my blog. I want to write, but always think that I don’t have many exciting things to say, or can’t think of a topic upon which I want to expound.
I guess you could say I’m in my cave again.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been very chatty on Twitter. I think it’s because I can send out a message there, and get almost-instant feedback. I feel lonely, and feel like my computer is my main portal into the social world.
It’s just that I’m overwhelmed. My house is still chaotic, a mess of things, and I don’t know where to start. My therapist says that I’m in a self-sabotage mode. I can never think of anything good about myself.
This medicine I’m on makes me sleepy all the time. It gets to the point where I start nodding off while I’m driving. I told my husband this, and he freaked out. So I told him, “gee, which would you rather have- a Michelle-whose-moods-are-stable, or a Michelle-whose-moods-are-out-of-control?” Then he shot back, “I want a Michelle-who-is-not-going-to-have-a-car-accident-because-she’s-falling-asleep-while-driving.”
My therapist says I need to start journalling again; she says I need to start focusing on the good in my life. It’s hard to do that when all you see are piles of stuff everywhere and you want it neat and clean so you can have friends over.
Friends? Oh yeah, those people you like to be around and whom you hope want to be around you. Silly me… I’d have to have those in order to have them over.
Ugh. I might just delete this post. It sounds like the same crap over and over.