Thursday, March 1, 2012

less and less; more and more

I tried taking some photos yesterday.  I can't seem to load them off my card onto the internet.

There's still more to do and less and less desire to do it.  This morning I could barely get out of bed.  I'm on the couch and can barely stay awake.  I'm so tired I just want to cry but that just takes so much energy.  What I really wish I had right now is a heated tub so that I could get in and stay there all day without the water going cold. Maybe it's a good thing I have no energy because I feel like breaking stuff.  Putting holes in walls, tearing up floors, throwing paint on walls, throwing things in general, tossing all the crap we have out into the driveway.  I only want to keep my things.  Getting rid of all the other shit would give me space to set up and organize my things (that's my craft things).  I really do want to experiment and try new things and play with some of the materials I have.  I don't need more stuff I just needed the motivation, the confidence the SOMETHING to get my ass in gear.

I think that the thing that would make a real difference would be if the kids stepped up and started helping me out - wash the damn pot after you use it, put your damn dishes in the dishwasher, unload the damn dishwasher if the dishes are clean, walk the dog from time to time, put fresh water in their bowls, bring up the clean laundry that got left in the dryer, don't leave you fucking shoes in the hallway - there's a bench they can go under, don't leave you stupid ball caps and sweaters all over the place then bitch that you can't find them, try to be a little quiet when your dad and or I are sleeping, it goes on and on. 

Today is a day that I most certainly would not step out of the way of the speeding bus and how nice would it be if the longer I sat here the further I would sink in between the cushions until I disappeared.  I know I am love and yeah I would be missed but I know at least two peopled who wouldn't really care.  This is not about self-pity here, this is about two kids who I love dearly, who I have done the best for and who only care about what I can and will do for them and who have very little interest in what they can do for me.  Is it wrong for me to want my kids to care about my feelings or is that just something kids just don't do.  Do kids just not give a crap about what their parents want, are they not supposed to care about the emotional health of their parents.  Is my depression my problem and not any concern of theirs.  Is it because they didn't ask to be born and so they have no responsibility to me.  That may not even bother me as much if they actually took some responsibility for themselves.  They have excuses and plans and laters coming out the ying yang but very little ambition or energy to put toward getting what they want.  It seems like they just want everything to come and knock on their door.  How did two people with the work ethic that John and I have, a man who works two jobs and a woman who has struggled to get up and just live for so long produce two kids that are so lazy and with so little foresight.  I just don't get it and I want more than ever to just give up right now, go back to bed and sleep for the day, the week maybe or maybe all the way to December when the world will end anyway.  Who the fuck cares?  NOT ME.  I'm so worn out, so done.  Does not committing suicide count if you give up living or is it the same thing, did I "technically" commit suicide a long time ago when I gave up on going back to work, when I realized that I would never have a close relationship with my kids.  Does it really matter, if you think it does matter why.  I'm done.

1 comment:

  1. Do I note a little negativity in your post ? Try loading those pictures again. Lets all see your stuff so we can comment and ask you lots of questions.
    Onwards and upwards :-)