I’m having one of those over-thoughtful nights, and I hope that by writing I can get some of it off my chest and move on to something productive.
I don’t feel well today. I’ve got a raging headcold, and my defenses just feel shot to hell. I took a two hour nap this afternoon. I think I should have been doing something, anything, but nope. A nap it was. Ever since, I’ve been kind of comatose on the couch watching movies I’ve already seen a dozen times (Underworld, two Resident Evil movies and part of Fellowship of the Ring all on TNT) and looking blankly at my computer. Today’s a day where I don’t feel interested in anything at all, and that bugs me to no end. I feel like a complete waste of space when my brain’s functioning at such a low level.
At the moment, little snippets of thought are drifting here and there, but nothing’s sticking to the walls of my brain. Some of the stuff I’m thinking of: I need to change my eating habits because I don’t think I know how to eat right anymore. I mean, I know what I should eat, but I don’t do it. This makes me mad at myself.
I could have cleaned my house today, or taken down the outdoor lights. I didn’t.
I worry sometimes if I do enough with Hurley. He can seem so bored sometimes, on days like this when I’m sitting around like a schlub. Yesterday was OK, because I took him to a park near our house that we haven’t been to before, and we walked the whole thing. This park has a mini-amusement park for kids, including a carousel, a tiny Ferris wheel and a train; Hurley was kind of scared of the carousel when we walked past it. He kept averting his eyes and banging into my legs, trying to “hide” from it. Definitely amusing.
Tonight we went on our nightly walk and it was OK, but is it enough for him? I changed it up by taking a new route we haven’t done yet, so that was something. Still. I don’t want to be one of these pet owners who never spends quality time with their pets. I want their quality of life to be really great. I’m sure I’m thinking too much about this.
I’m also thinking way too much about my appearance. I feel so bloated, average and frumpy. I know I’m not dressing all that well these days, because I think I look so bad, I think I figure: why try? But then I think about how I’m getting older all the time and I’m not going to look any better with every passing day; I might as well make the most of what I do have now, rather than think back on it someday with regret. I already do that about my 20s. I wasted those with low self-esteem and low expectations… and four years into my 30s, I see I am still doing exactly the same thing. The only difference is that now I am much fatter than I ever was, and no one ever gives me a second glance anymore.
I might have written about this before, but it’s a sobering day when you realize that no one is checking you out anymore. I can walk every single night with Hurley, and countless cars will pass us, and no one pays us any attention. I know this, because when I was younger, I would walk my dog and every once in awhile someone would honk, or lean out the window and yell something lame like “wooo!” as they went by. I hated that stuff, I really did. But when you stop and realize that no one does it at all anymore, it’s so strange. I feel old.
It can’t just be my weight gain. I know some women who are heavier than I am, that look really great and seem so content in who they are. I’ve admired the radiance oozing from these kind of people for awhile now, but lately I’m taking little mental notes about what the specific traits are that they have, and I don’t. And to no one’s surprise, of course, I know what the big thing is: CONFIDENCE. They’re embracing their femininity, and their personalities, and having fun. Do I do this? No. I don’t.
I’m going back to counseling. I don’t know what my problem is, what’s stopping me all the time from just going over the threshold of happiness. Sometimes I’m so close. Now that it’s 2010, and I’m intent on making this a great year (at least, MUCH BETTER than 2009 was), I definitely need to stop wasting time and get to the heart of the problem. If I waste any more time, I’m just going to get older and go deeper and deeper into a life of mehhhh. I’ve wasted more than enough of my life as it is.
By the way: I haven’t written anything for my book. I had such plans to write this past week while I was off of work, and I DIDN’T FUCKING DO IT.
I couldn’t be more angry at myself for this. I’ve had time. I could have made time when there were moments I was doing nothing of importance. I didn’t. I have my reasons… and they’re all tied to lack of confidence in what I’m doing, damn it anyway. See what I mean? I have to believe in what I’m doing, who I am. I have to do this, in order to succeed in being me this year. Otherwise, it’ll just be another beige, milquetoast kind of year all over again.
This is just not an option.