My last couple of posts have been quite angry and full of complaints. Part of me is embarrassed, but another part of me, the 12 year-old part, thinks "It's my blog and I can write what I want, so phphphphllllththth!!!!!"
Yes, it IS my bloggie, and I can whine if I want to. But I do apologize if anyone was offended, annoyed, or just plain bored. I'm trying to find healthy ways of venting my anger and frustration, and blogging seems to be one of those ways. I COULD write in my journal, and I DO, but blogging about stuff just feels so...cleansing. Getting it out there into the universe. Ether. Blogiverse. Wherever it goes. It feels like the proverbial weight slipping off of my shoulders.
However, I COMPLETELY understand if you don't particularly want to read those types of posts! I can try and remember to put a warning in the title: something like "Caution: Contains Whining. May Not Be Suitable For Those Who Have Enough Crap Going On In Their Own Lives and Feel No Need To Read About Someone Else's, ThankYouVeryMuch."
Or maybe I could put a code word in the title. Like "WCWMNBSFTWHECGOITOLAFNNTRASETYVM." Which takes almost as long to type.
Hmmm...I'll figure SOMETHING out!
It just all came to a head, y'know? The house, the money issues, the lack of time off, getting sick, subbing a ton of classes, the issues at work, and now the kids' school vacation. Plus, watching and reading stuff that literally makes me insane. The news. The commentary that passes itself off as news. That episode of "Dr. Oz" that was all about Autism but ended up not being helpful AT ALL and just made me more nervous, addled, and hopeless.
The feeling I sometimes get that I am drowning. That I have no control over anything, that my life isn't my own, that if I don't get some time to myself SOON I am going to explode. But there IS no time on the horizon.
I have to MAKE time. Because no one is gonna hand it to me. There's no fairy godmother waiting to wave her magic wand and make time stop for a while so I can get my bearings again. I have to demand it. And if others don't like it, that's their problem, not mine.
I have to stop letting myself get sucked into political discussions on Facebook. They only stress me out and take even more time away.
I need to stop feeling guilty over little things. Like the number of books I've bought over the last few years. If I figure in how much I HAVEN'T spent on things like going to the movies, or out to dinner, or meeting friends for coffee, or going to a spa day (or even a mani-pedi or getting my Bert-from-Sesame-Street-eyebrows waxed), or going on vacation, or shopping anywhere other than the grocery store, then I'm doing OK.
Reading is the only real ME time I get. Yes, I'm spending more time at the library and less at the bookstore these days, but there's no need for me to feel guilty over actually buying some books when 95% of my time and energy is put towards other people.
Besides, I donate A LOT of those books to the library, so I'm sharing the wealth.
So. More lessons learned.
I'm off to finish reading "Emily the Strange: The Lost Days."