Monday, November 28, 2011
I was at home for four days and while it was restful and all that I discovered something. I'm bored with life. I get that the mundane things add up to what life is all about but it doesn't mean that I have to like it.
I am ashamed to admit this.
I have a husband whom I've been with for fourteen years who is about to finish school and embark on a new journey in the workforce.
I have three wonderful sons.
We rent a decent sized home.
We have cars.
We have clothing on our backs and food in our guts.
But I'm bored.
I'm also too lazy to make any changes not that I'd even know where to start.
I haven't gone for a run in over a week.
There's no pill out there to fix this.
I am going to see my psychiatrist this afternoon. Not that he's a magician or anything because he's not. He's just a guy who sits behind a desk and asks me what I need. Well you know what? I don't fucking know what I need or want anymore. I want to feel something but at the same time I want to be numb and comatose. I'm all over the place, I know this.
I'm not in a good place right now. I can feel the depression making its comeback. I'm too tired to fight it this time. I'm going to let it swoop in and swallow me whole. Just because. Because I don't know what else to do anymore.