Seriously, You Might Want To Skip This One...

Introspective Navel-Gazing and Blather Below.

Don't say you weren't warned...

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OK - I've spent far too much of the last week trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me; why I'm in such a droopy, daze-y, deepblue state*.

I mean, seriously? There are so many people in the world who have legitimate things that are wrong in their lives, such monumental things to overcome - and they do so with strength and grace and dignity. And then, here's me, seeming to invent reasons about why "I just don't feel right (whine, whine, whine)"
Peh. I'm ready to get over myself...

But, unfortunately, knowing that I want to get over myself, and being able to actually do it - well, they are two different things. And as much as I've tried to avoid thinking about stuff, and just being sweet to myself in hopes that this will go away? Well, it's not working.

Oh - and I've tried being sweet to myself.
I've tried to stop being so self-critical.
I've made babysteps back into the kitchen (although, nothing new that you've not already seen a dozen times) and with the knitting (I've been knitting up washcloths like you wouldn't believe, since they require no thought.)
I've even blown off stuff that shoulda-oughta been done in favor of taking Schecky to the pool.

Yeah. And in spite of cutting myself some slack, I still feel wrung-out.

The real kicker is that I burned the crap out of myself.
Again.
Sigh.

Just to mix it up, this is a real burn, from an iron. On my arm. Second degree, baby! (remind me again why I even try to be domestic? It obviously doesn't agree with me...)

But anyhow, I know myself well enough that when I start getting too accident-prone, etc. there's something going on. Something that needs to be examined, before something happens.

So...let's take a look at things:

First off, I've got to admit that I've not been wholly honest about something with you all, and I think it's a chunk of what's wrong: I've been on my own for virtually the whole of this year.

Bubba's been working on a big work thing in Albany, NY. And he's gone for two weeks out of every three. And on that third week? The one that's supposed to be mine? Lots of little emergency trips kept popping up. Which has left me essentially on my own for the last four months.
(So, if you've ever wondered "why the hell isn't Bubba helping her with that?" as I document yet another problem at the House That Crazy Built - that's why. Bubba's a good egg, but there's only so much you can do when your not here.)

I've tried to be a good egg about it, too - it's not Bubba's fault, after all. He hates it as much as I do. So I didn't want to whine about it here. Also - it just didn't seem smart to announce to the Internets that "Hey, I'm alone here!" But I think I'd kind of reached the tipping point on that, you know?

Secondly, I think that the always insightful Normanack of Subversive Suburban hit the nail on the head in the comment that she left. Sometimes there is a letdown after a big buildup.
I should know this firsthand. After I was on Jeopardy! a million years ago, I sank into a big old depression. And the it wasn't because I didn't win - it was for the loss of a dream, of a sense of purpose: being on Jeopardy! was something that I had worked on so hard, and dreamed of for so long. And now, I'd done it. So now what...

I think that there is some post-festival loss of goal. I worked really hard on that party, I was so focused on it, it happened, so now what?

Oh - and there's more stupid little stuff.
I'm not sleeping.
I'm not eating right (and I know that this has to be affecting me, even if I don't want to think about it...)
And despite my protestations, I realize that the calendar is just packedpackedpacked with a gazillion end of the year activities.
And even though individually, many of them are things to be excited about, when confronted with them overall - it's like the death of a thousand tiny cuts...

So - that brings me to where I am now. I'm tired of feeling this way. I'm ready to be over it. And ignoring it, and hoping is just goes away isn't helping one little iota.

But I think confronting it - well, I think that's got to help. Instead of free-floating "I don't feel right" - I've got concrete stuff to look at.

• I don't feel right: because I'm tired.

• I don't feel right: because I'm not eating right.

• I don't feel right: because there's too much to do, and I'm not taking the time to enjoy any of it - treating everything as if it were just a task to be checked off a list.

• I don't feel right: because I don't have a goal. something to focus upon.

This is a list that I can do something about. I mean, look at that? That's not all that scary, now is it?
Woo. Hoo.

And as for the final thing - I don't feel right: because I'm tired of being alone?

Well, that's fixed.

Ding-dong, the Albany project is over.

Hear that, Albany? Bubba is mine again, you bitch!

Heh!

And to celebrate his homecoming tonight, I have a date.
With Bubba and with SpiderMan.

Woo. Hoo.

And if that won't cheer a girl up, then how about the fierce hooded towel monster that sometimes still comes to visit? That's pretty good stuff, too**...

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*Deep Blue State of Mind, that is. Because, politically speaking, Georgia is one of your bigger (dumber) redder states. But let's not go there. It'll get me all depressed again...

**'Cause if you stuck around this long? You deserve some sort of picture...