The Defeatist

I am one of those people who analyzes everything, and more often than not my analyzing borders more on over-analyzing than anything normal. If you're still with me, thanks. So today is one of those days when I should feel happy and chilled out. The sun is out, it's not too hot and not TOO cold. My wife has put down the computer and taken up the landscaping job I started over the last few weeks. We actually have progress in the area, and have put in two little bushes. It's her mom's birthday. And I don't want to do anything. I don't want to be productive, I don't want to go in public, I don't want to talk to anyone, and I feel like a fat, lazy, ugly, slob. My face keeps breaking out and I've gained weight.

I know what to do to stop it--to reverse it (well, the weight thing. The acne thing is 9/10 a mystery), but I can't bring myself to do it. I don't. Want. To move. I'm tired, I'm convinced people hate me because of things I've said or done, and I can't find any clothes to wear. I just want to go back to the bedroom, lie in bed for a week watching television and speaking to no one, and when I come out it will be wonderful spring/summer weather outside, I'll be rested and have magically dropped thirty pounds, my friends will all be clamoring to speak to me, and my face will no longer resemble a twelve-year-old's. And I'll have a British accent. I think that might make me feel better, too.

Today Was a Bad Day

I just got home from the store. I sat in the car and considered spending the night there. It seemed like a good idea, especially since I couldn't get the key out of the ignition. Oh, I could take the key out, but I most definitely didn't have the emotional strength to do it. And then I thought of the Butterfinger ice cream I just bought. It motivated me to get out of the car and climb in the snow drifts surrounding my driveway (I'm parked at the way back since there are three cars ahead of me in the driveway this week) and get into the backseat for the few bags of groceries. The first bag I picked up contained the orange juice, which was 50% of the reason I was even at the store to begin with (since after the Super Bowl I picked a fight with Julie and left the OJ on the kitchen table all night instead of putting it away). The bag sliced open and the juice dropped out. I almost shut the door and left everything in there. But no... the ice cream. Also, Heather is on her way over in a few minutes, and then I'd look like a jackass because she'd insist on helping me with the groceries once I told her where they were. But I didn't. I brought everything in. And now it's waiting on the kitchen floor for me to put it away, which I won't do until Heather gets here and sees that I haven't done it and I feel guilty enough to do it. I fed the cats, because I can't look at their poor meowy faces too long when I know Julie won't come home and do it.

I had a breakdown today. A complete and total sob session within full view of a lot of people. Heather offered to come over to be with me so I won't be alone tonight. I can't do this anymore. I can't do it. I can't feel like this. I can't let every little thing hit me like an emotional mack truck and let it run me over. Repeatedly. I'm not excited about anything. And then I am, totally gleeful. And then I'm not again. It's been going on for a while, and I've been trying to be "me," the me I'm supposed to be. But this is a me no one wants to be. And people are beginning to notice. I suppose this says it best, this excerpt from an email I wrote tonight. In order to understand it, you should know that I've been slowly attempting to wean myself off my medication because... well I guess I'm stupid and thought I could. I thought that, in a controlled way, not just cold turkey, I could "be like normal people." There was another, more significant reason, but I'm not ready to discuss it. Here's the excerpt, minus a few personal remarks:

"I'm going to see the doctor. The more I think about this situation, I think a lot of it has to deal with me being chemically imbalanced. That doesn't go away, like regular depression, and I've been fooling myself thinking I was just plain depressed, when I knew the doctor said (in 2003) I had a chemical imbalance. I need to find out if I can continue taking my medication... Up until I find out, I'm going back to doing the dose I've been on for a year. I've been sitting here having some seriously dark thoughts like being just fine with not waking up tomorrow, and all of the sudden I thought, "wait... wait... I remember this conversation with myself... the last time I had it, I was in college and having horrible life problems like... not making good choices, saying stupid things and regretting them, hurting friends, and crying at everything. EVERYTHING. Well, except for when I was fighting with people. Oh........ JUST LIKE NOW." ...it is ridiculously unhealthy to attempt to live like this."


So here I go to the cabinet, to give myself a dose of anti-depressant, and to the kitchen floor, to get out my Butterfinger ice cream. Because I deserve it, damnit.

Bah.

Do you ever get so caught up in living your own life that you forget to think about how your closest friends are living theirs? I mean, you know what's going on but you don't do the right thing? Or you don't even know what the right thing is to do it?

Today I was walking on a mountain path with a couple friends and my wife. I was so busy talking to my wife that when my friend fell I saw it happen but thought she just tripped. I yelled back, "Let me know if you need anything..." Really she fell off the edge, but luckily another friend was there to catch her.

That didn't really happen. Not like that. The mountain path was emotional. But do you get what I mean? I hate it when stuff like this happens.

I feel like a scuzzbucket sometimes.

Dreamstate

I had a dream this morning, just before I woke up. I don't think I'll share it, but it made me realize that one of my fears about being a mother is stronger than I thought. My cousin is giving birth today and I checked her status last night before I went to bed, so I can only assume that's why I dreamed what I did (which actually had nothing to do with her but it was awful). I have dreamed the same thing in variations for a little while now, and there's a tiny part of me that worries... if you dream something often enough.... is it because it's going to come true? God has worked through dreams countless times. Why should I be any different? I can only hope that's not what's really going on.

Another Language

Every time I watch the movie Avatar there's a scene that speaks to me. It's where this guy Jake is learning about the Na'vi culture and language and he's told that there is a phrase, "I see you," that means something more than just the words. It means, "I see you, I see into you, I see who you are, and I accept you. I love you." I wish there were a word or phrase for that concept in the English language. Sometimes I read blog or facebook posts where I don't really have anything to contribute, and if I post a comment it will just be empty words.

I wish there were something I could say that meant, "I read this, and while I read it, every heartbeat was dedicated to you. I will think about this far longer than it took me to read it, and I will think about it again later today--maybe even tonight, tomorrow, or a month from now. I think about you a lot. I read this and acknowledge your pain/love/sentiment. I was here. You are a part of me and I understand what you are saying. I see who you are--your inner thoughts--and I love you. I just have nothing to contribute at the moment. But I was here."

I suppose I could just go with "I see you," but would that make me something of an Avatar geek?

Speaking of babies.....

We want one. We want some. We want children badly. For those of you who think we don't deserve one because we'll instill bad values--with all due respect, go jump off a dock. You can have your beliefs and your prejudices, but they are wrong. I am going to be a great mother, and Julie is going to be a great mother, and we will both be mothers. There won't be a "mom" and an "aunt." We are going to have children of our own, and it will be soon. I won't be telling you right away, since it's something that I don't want you to have any part of ruining. There are some of you who ruin everything for me by telling me I'm doing it wrong, by telling me I'll mess things up, by telling me God sees me and is unhappy. Don't pretend you know what goes on in God's omniscient head.

Have you ever watched me or Julie with children? Have you ever seen the love in our eyes? Do you have any idea how much effort we will put into raising the most tender-hearted, educated, humor-appreciating, God-fearing children who will ever walk the planet? It's not like we intend to just "go get knocked up." We're doing this the right way. This child or children will have mothers who love them, and yes! FATHERS who love them! I want our children to have fathers. I know that might blow your mind, but I'm not some man-hating lesbian who thinks that men only ruin things. I think fathers are incredibly important and every child at some point will want to know who had a part in creating them--and I want our children to be able to know and love all of their parents.

So when I call you to tell you we're expecting, if you answer with anything other than "Congratulations!".... if you answer with a sigh, if you answer with a sarcastic "Well, that's great," ... if you answer with tears of unhappiness, you cannot reasonably expect to be a large part of our children's lives--because I don't want them to have to dread coming to see you, knowing how you judge our family. I don't want to drop them off to stay with you only to hear later the lies you've put into their heads. I can promise you that the first time you hurt them by telling them that their family is not a real family will be the last time you see them.

So, speaking of babies... we're going to have them, we're going to love them, and we're going to be prouder of them than anything else we've ever done in our lives.

Officially Annoying.

It seems that suddenly there are a lot of things in my life that need to be officially done. We needed to officially get our marriage application notarized. We needed to drive over to Iowa to get officially married. We got our official marriage certificate but now need certified copies of our birth certificates (which I might have to have the application notarized, since I don't have the original one) and to send our official marriage certificate with it to the social security office so they can send us our new official social security cards. But I'm not sure if I should just drive it down there so that I can hand it to them in person. But I would have to take a whole day off to do that. Then we have to take our official social security cards, after waiting two weeks to get them, and take them to the DMV and hope and pray that the official office will agree to give us new official driver's licenses. Why is this so hard? Why can't Social Security team up with the states and automatically send out new cards when the name change is indicated on the marriage certificate?!? After all that, I have to contact a ton more people to get my name changed, like utilities, credit cards, not to mention my employer, because I need a new name plate—and do I change my email or not? I've been using that one a long time... It's all very frustrating, and the more I think about it, the more irritated I get. I don't have time to get a ton of things notarized, and why the heck don't we have a social security office closer than an hour away? It's not like this town is THAT small!! Oh, big whoop, so we have someone here on the second Wednesday of every month from 9:30am-noon. Seriously? Once a month, there's someone here for two and a half hours!? SERIOUSLY?!?