There are no words…only blogging memories. I leave you with another photo, showing my happiness!
I did it! I completed NaBloPoMo! This photo, it is old. But I look good and happy. If I’d have taken a new photo, I would have looked tired and cranky because it’s freakin’ 6:00 a.m. here!
…and then NaBloPoMo is done! Done I say! I’m so relieved! I nearly didn’t make it! Thanks to Fussy for the great idea, however! I did have fun!
I’m running out of things to write so I’ll leave you with this:
Dawson is infatuated with Winnie the Pooh. He even picked the design for our Christmas Cards. Right now, he’s watching the Pooh movie for the 80th time. I’m starting to be sick and tired of the bear, but if it makes the Doodlebug happy, it makes me happy, too!
We’re watching this classic on TV right now and Dawson is mesmerized. I am feeling really old. I watched this when I was a kid. I think even my husband watched this when he was a kid 100 years ago.
Nothing like a cartoon to make your stress dissipate!
I’ve been dragging the last few days. I just don’t feel like doing anything. Today, I had errands to run around town and I managed to get all but one completed. I didn’t make it to the post office because I forgot the items I had to mail. I just didn’t feel like going home to get them and backtrack back to the post office.
I feel a little depressed. I really hate admitting this because I don’t want to be portrayed as a weak woman. I have a lot to be happy about. I have a loving husband. Sure, he gets on my nerves quite often the last few weeks, but this is normal. Right? I mean, there is no such thing as a perfect husband and if there was, I wouldn’t want him. The marriage would be miserable, because I myself am no perfect wife. But why do I sometimes want to smother him with a pillow? Internet readers, don’t take that the wrong way. I could never actually kill him. I promise. Does anyone else feel this way?
Another thing to be thankful for is my beautiful son. Dawson is growing, changing and learning so much. Every day he learns a new word. Yesterday’s word du jour was “ice” and today it’s “fart”. I think his father taught him that one. He things saying “fart” is the funniest thing. I believe this is because we laugh hysterically with him when he does it. (Says the word “fart”, not because he actually farts.)
I don’t know if being jobless has caused my recent bout of depression. I recognized some of these symptoms months ago and vowed to get over this mountain of troubles. Financial stress of bills and debts, the stress of not being the perfect wife and mother, and being so afraid of failure really make it difficult for me to get through every day. I am somehow capable of putting on my fake happy face and I think I’m getting away with this facade for the most part. But damnit, it’s really fucking exhausting.
Why is it so hard as women to ask for help? Why is it so hard for us to admit we are drowning? I know not everyone feels what I feel, but please tell me I’m not alone.
Sure, I read about others’ going through this stuff, but it never really sinks in. I always feel like I’m the only woman in the world who can’t crawl out of the hole she dug for herself.
I don’t want to bring everyone down with me with this sappy, wallowing post, but if I can’t express my thoughts and feelings somehow, I’ll burst. I’ll burst that delusional perfect bubble I created to hold me together.
Sometimes I think it’s the stress of the holidays that adds to my funk. But what if these are just excuses? Excuses to help me cope? And if they are excuses to help me cope, is it really wrong to keep using these excuses?
I think the one person helping me to keep my shit together is my little boy. He looks at me so adoringly that I instantly feel like I can’t let him down. I try harder. The more I try the more tired I become. Lately, Dawson has been very clingy to me. I often wonder if he has a bit of ESP. Maybe he knows when I’m feeling blue and instinctively comes to my rescue with extra hugs and kisses for his Mumma. He’s a little miracle. He really is.
I think it may be time to consult a physician about the big “D”. Maybe I need medication. Maybe I don’t. I’ll never know if I don’t do something about it.
So, I ask you, dear blog friends. Pray for me. Even a little one goes a long way.
