I’m slipping. Someone show me how to stay upright. I feel grumpy and frumpy and fat and full of debt and grudges. I had gotten to a place where I felt real good on the good days and basically OK on the bad ones. And now I’ve gone to OK on the good days and bad on the bad days. I have grievances:
Apartment. I hate the apartment. I hate neighbors above our heads and people who pull all nighters outside in the hot tub. I hate that my girls are basically living in student housing without other kids with a whole bunch of other grownups who don’t care when you yell out your window THAT YOU HAVE BABIES TRYING TO SLEEP OVER THEIR PARTYING DAMMIT.
I know better than to say “I’ll be happy when…” but the day our contract is up here is a bright shiny star loaded with hope and all good things, and I’m looking forward to touching it.
Weight. We are both too fat and too short, so since we can’t do anything about the short thing, we’ve got to really buckle down on the fat thing. I know all bodies are different (“and so are all brains”–Big Words–one of my favorite kids’ books–uh…tangent), and we should just be happy in the skin we’re in, but I’m not happy with my body (or my skin for that matter).
For some reason it was so easy to eat clean when we did that. We felt so much better and I was super self-righteous and judgmental about other people’s eating habits. I had a lot of issues, but food issues and weight issues weren’t a thing then. I’d like those things to not be things now.
People. I look back on the past and realize that I had a lot more friends back then (back when? back whenever–any other time), and I’m wondering what I can do differently. I’m not sure why the loss. I’m not sure why I can’t hang on, or why people can’t hang on. I don’t know which it is.
I just feel like I need some friends, but I’m too late. People in their 30s don’t make friends, do they? What do they do? Complain about things? Stare at each other while their unruly kids run around and hit each other and fight? I don’t know what friendship looks like anymore, I guess. I’m not a good friend, maybe.
Debt. Yeah, so we have some debt. We have a ton of debt. Probably not as much as some people and lots more than others, but we have it and I hate it. We have jobs and we are paying it off, but it’s there and it’s always dangling there, showing me things that other people have, making me mad.
I get mad when I see all the things people have and things that they are doing that I might never do or see because of this creature. It’s on my back, teeth lodged firmly in my backside, chewing away at night, keeping me up, obsessing over a spreadsheet budget–my precious–but never offering relief.
And somehow, weirdly, I feel books are the solution to these things. Audiobooks while I run, books to fill the empty spaces in my life that would typically be filled by eating. Books to give me something to occupy my time and help me feel more productive. Books even help me look at people better. I’ve read a lot more but after a couple books in as many weeks, it was hard to keep up that pace for too long. But books are the answer, I can feel it.
Send me something to read. Come read with me. Let’s get rid of grudges. Let’s help each other stay upright.