So my fall decorations are still sitting in their box, glaring at me reproachfully. I haven’t done one productive thing today. Not one. And there is much to do. The kitchen is a disaster. The laundry needs to be started. Our bedroom & bathroom is littered with half-unpacked suitcases. The guest bedroom is a health hazard — boxes of books that don’t have a home, random pieces of uncompleted projects, all covered with a thick layer of plaster dust from the repair of the Great Crash of 2010. I’ve been keeping the guest bedroom door closed in an attempt to ignore it, but I know what’s in there. The backyard is embarrassing. I haven’t been back there in, oh, about 3 months. Nope, not lying… after Daddy’s retirement party, I’ve maybe been in my own backyard once. Ok, twice. Oh, & the box of fall decorations, just sitting there waiting. Let’s not forget those.
And yet here I sit on the sofa in my pajamas with coffee, laptop, & tv remote. I’m just tired. I don’t know why.
Actually, I do kind of know why.
- I’ve been eating nothing but crap for months. I fell off the WeightWatchers wagon & the damn thing ran over me. Every time I see the Jennifer Hudson “I can” commercial, I feel a mixture of shame (because I suck) & pissiness (because Jennifer Hudson doesn’t). I hate it when people take pictures of me because I’m afraid of what I’ll see. And I know that the fat girl I’m seeing in that picture? Yeah, that’s the fat girl that everybody else sees ALL the time. I don’t want to be this girl. But I don’t know if I care enough to do something about it.
- I haven’t been taking my vitamins. You see, I have this daily vitamin regimen that I’m supposed to take that consists of a prenatal, massive amounts of folic acid, & low-dose aspirin. If I take these every day & get pregnant & have another miscarriage, that’s one less thing that I can blame myself for. I know this makes very little sense to anyone but me. But there’s a guilt that comes with skipping my pills, like maybe I WANT to never have kids. But I do want kids. I do. Ugh.
- No physical movement whatsoever. Oh, I’m on my feet pretty much all day at work, but when I’m home, my ass is planted on the sofa. Intellectually, I know that I would feel better if I took a walk outside or on our dusty treadmill. Just like I know intellectually that eating better & taking my antibabydeath vitamins is good for me. But does that mean I do it? Um, that would be a no.
I suck. I don’t know why. I’m not sad or upset. I’m just exhausted. Sluggish. I don’t want to see anybody, or talk to anyone who requires even a modicum of effort. At work, or when I have obligations that take me out of the house, I’m ok — I smile, & nod, & chat. But then I come home & assume the position — curled up on the sofa with a blanket. I don’t know what my deal is. Am I just lazy? Sometimes I wonder if my zoloft is working the way it should. Or am I just expecting too much from it?