I’m backish for now! Hurray.
So let me think, I won’t talk much about the weekend because it was too long ago and not much happened. To summarize: Josh bought a new car because is Vue is not long for this world. It’s funny because he found an awesome deal on a used bmw so we were able to pay cash and everyone is freaking out because we’re alternative(well, he’s alternative I’m just emo-y) teenagers with a classy-ish old people car. I’m just glad it’s got AC. Seriously it’s getting ridiculous outside.
Aside from that I bought a new coffee pot because it’s hard to pour coffee from a pot with no handle, as well as another big bag of Ice-pops freezies popsicle whatevers, you know what I mean, the bag of one hundred in rainbow colors where nobody likes purple and if you eat too many your mouth gets split open like the jokers. Yeh, I’m on my second bag already.
In today news: Josh is home with a migraine, which I’m glad he’s home except I can’t really see him because he’s sleeping and when he’s awake he’s completely miserable. Which makes me feel bad because I want to take care of him and there’s nothing I can really do.
My emotional state right now is pretty weird. My head is actually fine and happy but my emotional heart/physical chest both hurt. This feeling is relatively new but becoming more frequent. I’m okay with it, because I’m happy. It sucks that I’m in pain but I’m glad that I’m not letting it get to me. I just hope it goes away because even if I can manage it’s still not fun to live with constant emotional pain.
Last night I had a baby meltdown. I feel like I controlled it pretty well, I didn’t even cry. It’s just my weight problems trying to get back into my brain. See I set myself a healthy realistic weight range, that way I can eat and gain a bit without feeling like a terrible person every day. A 10 lb range where I try not to go over or under. Which I feel like is important. And for the first time since I set it, I guess I’ve over indulged a bit and am almost at my top limit. *sighs* I know in my head I’m not fat, it’s just really hard to remember that when you here voices in your head 24/7 telling you what a fat cow you are.
My real issue with my weight is this: I have either a decent tummy or decent boobs. The weight at which my tits start to become normal and not pathetic looking, is also the exact weight at which my shorts start to get a bit tight and my tummy is a bit bigger than I’m comfortable with.
I’m forcing myself to eat food today, it’s just hard to remember that I’m allowed and that I’m still pretty and adorable or whatever even if I do weigh more than I’d like.
But I’m actually more focused today on this next bit of shit: I’ve finally figured out my number one biggest fear, because I think all my other fears directly or indirectly come back to this.
I’m afraid of losing myself.
Yup. That’s my biggest fear in life. I feel like it’s actually a fairly rational one too. Both depression and being a stay at home mom are kind of known for stripping you of your identity. It’s weird. Two of my biggest defining characteristics steal part of me.
I wouldn’t be who I am today if I didn’t deal with depression, it’s weird but it really does change your perspective and outlook on life. (I believe there is a correlation between this and the goth culture/lifestyle, but that’s unrelated) I see the world in a different way than most of the people around me, it’s not because I’m special or different, I’ve just been looking at things through a different perspective.
I also wouldn’t be me right now without my Smidget. As much as she drives me crazy, I’m pretty obsessed with her. It’s easy to see how you can get lost in being a mother because MY ENTIRE LIFE revolves around taking care of her. From the moment I wake up to the moment I go to bed, I am a mother, and I’m at work. Not just changing and feeding her, but making her laugh trying to figure out more about her personality, hugging her when she’s being a tired fussy little shit. to put this in perspective a bit, I haven’t spent a single night away from my child since she was born. That’s about fifteen months. Of constant caring for another human with her own sets of wants and needs. I love it, but sometimes I hate how it makes me feel.
Being depressed steals you because it locks you in the dark and tells you lies and makes you believe you and the world be better off if you were dead. Being a mother steals you because it means your entire life isn’t about you anymore, and that you have to put a tiny tyrant who doesn’t speak english above yourself for probably ever.
So I think it makes sense that I’m scared of losing myself. That every free moment I get is spent trying to make myself look the way I want to, to read the things I want to, and to watch the things I want to.
Sometimes I worry if I’m myself or just a vague impression of who I wish I could be.
Also, Why the hell do grown-ups follow my blog? I’m not complaining, I love feeling important. I just wonder if it’s follow-backs or what because why the hell would a grown adult person find the dis-jointed ramblings of a possibly psychotic 18 year old worth reading? I can’t even spell for shit.