I think I’m depressed. I’m back to blah. Sigh. I’m sick of it. It’s a long weekend here next weekend and I thought I might go away to try to break the cycle. I even thought I’d go to one of my favourite places (the one pictured in my header). Alas, the person who normally kitty-sits for me can’t do it next weekend. Sigh. (Totally as an aside, how this person runs a pet minding business when she’s not available most holiday weekends is totally and utterly beyond me.)
Anyway, having binged my way to emotional numbness, I thought I’d try to empty my head. Here goes…
I’ve been “dating” – or trying to. Only no one’s interested. I’ve been doing that online thing. The Wonder Therapist has been encouraging me to try to meet (or at least touch base with) as many men as possible, as a self-esteem booster. So, I contacted (another) eight guys last night. Six have already said they’re not interested. Terrific self-esteem booster, that one. Could this be the first time the Wonder Therapist is wrong about something?
The Wonder Therapist is going on holidays next week. For six weeks. Count them: six. She’s travelling the world to exotic locations. I’ll be seeing the Famous Back up Therapist while she’s away, and even though I know this will be ok (probably more than ok), I’m still panicking about the Wonder Therapist going. I feel childish and pathetic. Sigh.
My own motivation to go to exotic locations has totally evaporated. I don’t know where it’s gone, and I can’t seem to find it. My travel agent is still doing things for me, but really, I don’t know if I can do it.
I had to go to a work retreat this week – an overnighter with a bunch of colleagues I pretty much don’t like, and who pretty much trigger a whole lot of sh1t for me. I went. People are telling me I should be proud of myself for going. I’m not.
I haven’t been totally honest here lately. Well, I have been, but I just haven’t talked about the “real” issues for me at the moment. It’s all tied up with dating, and being rejected, and feeling like a fool. And my deepest, most intimate hopes and dreams. I’m a failure. There, I said it. I’m a failure and the things I want most in life won’t happen, so what is the point of anything?
On top of all this, every time I walk past the refrigerator I put on weight. The new “healthy eating” plan the dietician put me on has been working very well – NOT. It’s so hideous. I can’t stand the sight of myself.
The little pills I fought so hard last year have started calling to me again. I know that sounds crazy and I know I shouldn’t listen. I’m just so tired. So very, very tired.