What’s the homeopathic remedy for insomnia + playing morbid tragedy scenarios over and over again in my head? Hint: it’s not coffee cruda.
I wish I could say this is a new thing, but it’s not. I’ve always done it. I think the Isabel thing is kicking my maternal anxiety into high gear.
In other news, my boobs are gi-normous. For those of you who hate me: You’ll be pleased to know that I’ve grown out of all my pants already. Whoops! Did I forget to mention something to the Internet?
Hey, Internet! I’m pregnant! And if you’re reading this with your jockeys in a wad because we didn’t tell you over the phone and you aren’t a parent of one of us, then suck it up. We haven’t had a chance to get on the phone and announce to the world, plus isn’t this so much more fun? If you are one of my siblings and you’re finding out this way it’s because you ALL SUCK at keeping in touch and you never return phone calls or emails. Except you, E. I’m sure you’d return my calls if I ever got my shit together to pick up the phone. Family full of misanthropes = reading about people’s pregnancies on the Internet and lonely Christmases.
Project Sibling, Month 10:
We are running out of money to spend on supplements and grapefruit juice and special teas.
I am running short on optimism.
Homeopathy is like reading a horoscope in 3 different papers. Every link I visit tells me a different solution for the same symptoms.
If I had known this would take so long, I would have started working out in March.
I feel like two people- the fired up Doula/relaxed, patient, present every day, enjoying her child and (lately) her home- and the middle aged woman whose body has failed her.
I almost want to believe in God so that I could mix this up a bit, alternate between accepting God’s Will for me and womdering why God is punishing me.
I have begged for help from at least one person who I had counted as an ally, and have been ignored. I am reaping the consequences of my standoffish nature, and it’s painful.
I trust no one, and therefore have decided the only course of action is to become a Doctor of Homeopathy so that I can treat myself. Don’t laugh, this is similar to what I did when our computer needed repair. See what I do for a living now?
my card for the day is the Eight of Cups-Stagnation. I am advised to go within, to stop over-doing, to cultivate emotional rest. And then this:
Remember, all life comes out of the swamp. So be patient and know that new life is germinating.
offline, off my rocker, off track.
Off to Atlanta
On the road
Over my online life
Under a bad sign
In a weird space
Out of patience and confidence.
I say this without humor: it’s good that my daughter will be on this trip with me. because I have a feeling I’d just keep driving.
Can Progesterone cream be doing this to me, or have I lost my mind or (worse?) can it be that I really am horrifing and neglectful?
I want out. I want not to be getting up in 5.5 hours. I want to go alone and stay in a hotel alone and skip the doula training. I’ll never actually be one, anyway. I want to open a credit account at Ikea and spend irresponsibly. I want to go to a spa alone with a book and have the birthday I wanted.
I want, I want, I want. People everywhere want shoes and some fucking rice and I want like a rich girl. I want like a teenager. Fuck, when I was a teenager I wanted healthy pets and world peace. I want like a 4 year old.
What I want is to appreciate what I have with some fucking regularity. I want to be grateful. Do I have to lose everything to get that?