It's been a shitty week. I really thought that if I could get over March 9th, that I'd start getting better. I stayed home sick Friday, slept most of the day. When I wasn't sleeping, my thoughts were consumed with Nick. Of memories, of regrets, of the fact that I really don't know how I will ever possibly love anyone that much ever again. Last weekend I really didn't do much. Slept a lot, bathed the dogs, washed the car on Saturday. Slept a lot, did laundry, watched SATC and groomed Chelsea and Toby (a friend's dog) on Sunday. Monday was a doozie. I had a major breakdown Monday night. Like, crying so hard I had to pull off the road. Thank God for Meredith. I don't know that I would have made it home without her talking me through it. I said a lot of things that I didn't mean that night. I'm noticing more and more that I do that when I get frustrated and angry, and I know that I have got to stop. I know I do. The rest of the week hasn't been much better. I just feel, for lack of a better word, BLAH. I don't get excited about anything really. Most of the things I do after work and on the weekends, I only do because I feel like they are expected of me. Honestly, I would rather just stay home and hang out with Chelsea and Bear, read, watch TV, just "be". This week was week three of the Lexapro. I think it's pretty obvious this is not the drug for me. I go in Monday for a med check and I am sure Korman will know just by looking at me. He just has that ability.
So, tonight I was actually "okay". I was going to meet an old friend for a quiet dinner and talked to my mother on the way to meet Amy. First she's bitching at me to change the call back tone on my phone (my thoughts-you don't like it, don't call), then she starts giving me a hard time because I hadn't committed to going sailing. I have things I have to get done around the house, you know, like normal people do on the weekends? But see, she's had a maid for, oh, I guess the last 30 something years. If it wasn't my sister or me, it was someone else. Just not her. She thinks that everyone should just be able to go and do as she does. There's a reason her boat is named "Planet Janet". She literally lives on her own planet, and thinks everyone else's lives should revolve around hers. So, she gets pissed off at me because I really wasn't in the mood to be given a hard time about ANYTHING, and spouts off some shit like, "Well, you just have a bad attitude, so..." That's when I hung up the phone. Now, I don't usually hang up on people, but I knew EXACTLY how she was going to finish that sentence. Something along the lines of, "...I'm just going to let you go." Well, I beat her to it. I'm just so sick of her lack of empathy. She has made no effort at trying to understand why I am the way I am right now. I really think that she thinks I should be over it already. That life should be back to normal, whatever normal is or was, and that I should be done grieving and that I have no right to still be upset. How do I make her understand? And that's a rhetorical question, because I know that's impossible.
And people wonder WHY I've secluded myself and limit what, where and who I spend time with.
Well, enough rambling. Just had to vent, I suppose.
