Yep, they’re back. Despite the lessening of work stress, and the improvement of my relationship with my daughter, it would appear that the increase in money related stress is more than my demon addled brain can deal with. I’m not sleeping. Last night, I cried myself to sleep. This has coincided with what I like to call the curse, so I am blaming hormones.
But this particular bout is different from the others. When I was a teenager, I self harmed. Not seriously, but enough to scar. This past week or so, I’ve had an urge to repeat that. And on Monday, I had such a low opinion of myself that I couldn’t see the point in being here at all. Clearly, as I am still here typing this, I did nothing except ponder on it. But I can’t deny the fact that I am low.
And I feel angry about it. I’m trying really hard not to be a victim, but my natural inclination when I feel like this is to withdraw and become a hermit. Not easy with a 5 year old. The people I generally turn to have enough going on in their lives without me adding to it. I don’t want to burden anyone. I just can’t seem to beat it. The only time I feel genuinely happy is when I am out in the fresh air with the dogs and/or the horses. Which then makes me feel guilty that I don’t get that same feeling when I’m with my daughter. I should, shouldn’t I? I mean, my child is supposed to be the thing that makes me happiest. Not the straw that has the potential to break my back so to speak. Gah.
I feel out of control. Work is not great, and I’m kind of stuck for the time being. Less said about money the better. My eating is out of control. My house is a tip. And I’m a rubbish parent. I mean, the reason my child has got to the age of five only deigning to eat hot food consisting of a combination of soft boiled eggs, fish fingers, baked beans/tinned spaghetti must be down to my crap parenting. Or the rubbish example I am setting her. I long for the day she will eat something I have cooked. A month ago, she made pizza at school. And ate it. Encouraged by this, we decided to make pizza at home. FROM SCRATCH!!! She made a shopping list for toppings. We went to the supermarket and bought them. We then made the sodding pizza. FROM SCRATCH!!! No pre-bought bases in this house… She chose which toppings went where on the pizza, and supervised its cooking. When it was ready, did she eat it? Did she hell. She didn’t even try it. And I don’t know how to crack this. Please don’t misunderstand. She’s not skinny. She’s a happy, healthy girl, who eats a good range of fruit and yoghurt and cheese. But hot food? No way.
But I digress. Or do I? Are my demons linked with how I perceive others to view me? Christ. That does make me a victim. Out of control. But how do I get control back??? And banish the sodding things…
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