Thirteen

Today my brain feels empty, I feel empty. I feel like I just want to sit back and do nothing and not take any shit from myself for it. I have days where I force myself to do things- laundry, read, garden- when I am actually hating every minute of it. I don't know why. I don't have to do anything disgusting, except clean cat litter boxes, and even that is part of the joyful duties of rescuing stray cats. I don't have to do anything difficult, I don't have to do anything perverted or creepy or illegal, I really don't have to do anything I don't want to. I am talking about the every day mundane aspects of life, like weeding the flower bed or filling the bird feeders or making the bed or wiping down the stove from last night's dinner or fluffing the pillows on the couch. Oh fuck, I hate all of it today, I hate it, and I have NO REASON TO, and I have no reason to gripe or complain or be such a stupid cow. This is my day, this is my lot in life, to be married to a wonderful man who takes good care of me and loves me- I don't know why he does, but he does. Go figure. Today is one of those days where I just don't want to think about anything, I want to say screw it all, go away, leave me alone. I want to tell A don't come home tonight! But I am alone, there is no one else here but me, and I gripe about being lonely! So what exactly am I wanting out of life, what do I think I would do differently, if I could do it all over again? I don't know. Would I have been a wild child instead of a good girl? Would I have travelled the world, doing whatever or whoever I wanted to? Would I have not had that abortion and instead kicked X out of my life, keeping his baby? Would I have done crack to numb my revulsion for this world, full of idiots, racists, rednecks, morons, zealots, the self-righteous bigots? I hate most people, I really do, because most of the people I've met in my life fall into one of those categories, and maybe that's because I have lived my entire life in the south, where people are generally dumbasses from birth on. Like a woman I knew for years who befriended the black girls in our office, would go out to lunch and shopping with them, coo over their babies, yet called people fuckin' n*ggers behind their backs. See, I can't even type that word anonymously, I hate it so much. The same woman who would drive by Goodwill while they were closed, and steal things people had dropped off out front for donations, yet didn't think there was anything wrong with it- they're just going to sell it anyhow, she justified. The same woman who would go to church every Sunday and talk about what a good Christian she was, when she was just pure white trailer trash and didn't even recognize it. I know so many people like that, it makes me angry at the whole human race. There are decent people out there, I know. Like my parents, or A, whose only flaw is that they love me, unconditionally. They are few and far between. Even my best friend, a sweet and tender woman in her 50's, is such a doormat, is so blind, I want to slap her. She lets her husband, her grown sons, treat her and talk to her the way X used to do me. And for that, she is stupid, as stupid as I used to be. And for such a smart woman, it makes me salivate with anger at her, to stand by and listen to her stories of how her husband drove off and left her at a restaurant, because their to-go order was taking so long and he was tired of waiting in the car for her- and how she had to call one of her sons to come and pick her up, while her husband was already relaxing back at home with his feet up in the recliner. Oh that's just horrifying in so many ways. Not because her husband did that, because I've met him and he's a huge fuckwad and it doesn't surprise me when he acts like that. But because he is STILL her husband, and she is still with him. She was such a gentle woman, I couldn't even offer my advice, because she would fall away into tears at even the merest hint of sympathy from me. But she was also a foolish, dense woman. My life is so simple, wake up, get A off to work, be there when he comes home, hopefully with a smile on my face. I fake my way through it, at least through the parts where he is at home. The rest of the hours are grim, I'm grim, and I have grim thoughts. People may read this blog and say, you're rich, you have no responsibilities, you have no job, you have no worries and nothing to complain about. What the hell does that have to do with how I'm feeling? Just because I have no fear of the power being shut off, that doesn't mean I can't be unhappy. That doesn't mean that I don't have the right to be unhappy, to bitch, to hate my life on certain days. That doesn't mean that I can't find a reason to be pissed off with the world. Who said only poor people, or the struggling, or the abused or homeless, or the sick and diseased or addicted, or the old, have dibs on being miserable? Maybe you can't understand me, or my life, and that's fine because I don't understand it half the time, and I'm not writing this blog for you to understand me, or even like me. Don't resent me because I have material possessions. What's in my brain, in my heart, pumping through my veins- that has nothing to do with what kind of car I drive. I am not taking this out on you, if you are reading this, I don't know you. And since I am posting anonymously, I don't want to know you. I don't care if you want to know me. I am just in a pissy mood today, and I don't know why. Life is good today, it's sunny and beautiful outside, I am preparing to leave on a weekend family getaway, tomorrow I go to my support meeting, next week I leave for a tropical vacation on the beaches of Florida with A. What's to complain about? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know!