Crazy

I didn't get too far on my list the other day. I did go run and I did get the pile of clothes folded, but they got replaced by a whole new pile when kiddo cleaned out her bathroom. I made some progress on my horrifying living room, and I did go to Kohl's for new bathroom stuff (shower curtain and a couple of counter thingies. Why do we decorate bathrooms?)

I got my eyebrows waxed yesterday, for those of y'all keeping score at home.

Every time I get my eyebrows waxed, I end up with a GIGANTIC zit right smack-dab in the middle of my forehead. I mean it's a third eye sumbitch, too. I can't decide which is worse, the Bert brows, or the giant cyclops zit.

A long time ago, I resigned myself to the fact that maybe some people are just supposed to be happy and some people aren't and I was one of the ones that wasn't. After about a year I realized that living that way was gradually driving me insane, so I started looking for a way to be happy. I looked in a lot of places, some of them more logical than others, until I finally found myself in a therapist's office.

I started talking to her and I got on anti-depressants and mood stabilizers and I started getting happy.

I got divorced and I got even happier.

The other day I realized that I'm truly, honestly happy for the first time in a long, long time. The last time I remember feeling this way was probably my freshman year in college (1989-90.)

But I still have to take the drugs, and I still have to run 2 or 3 times a week and I still have to stay away from the diet sodas and I still have to make sure I pay attention to certain silly things and I still need to remember to stick up for myself and say what I think (things that should just come naturally, shouldn't they?) and so much, there's so much work to being happy.

There's so much maintenance to being low maintenance. HEH.

As I told Jef - it's not that I'm low maintenance, it's that I'm self-maintenance. The idea of somebody else dealing with and taking care of my crap just mortifies me. I need drugs and regular exercise and fresh air and sunshine and 3 meals a day and lots of water (Jesus, am I woman or a poodle??) in order to function, so the idea of somebody else taking on all of this crap? UGH.

I don't need jewelry or flowers or *stuff* to be happy. I mean - it's nice, don't get me wrong. But, for one thing, I went for 14 years with a husband who didn't give me flowers because he gave them to everybody else so he felt like that de-valued them. Same with jewelry. Don't get me wrong, I'd love to get some fucking jewelry. I am stereotypically female in that I love the shiny stuff. But the Ex had some bizarre notion that he wouldn't get it right, so he didn't get anything.

What the fuck was I saying?? My daughter just came in here, dancing around....Oh...yeah. The idea of asking anybody else to take on my crap. Just, no. If we define "high-maintenance" as needing lots of material shit, then no. Y'know, presents are nice, but no. If we define "high maintenance" as needing lots of actual maintenance in order to function in reality? Well yeah. That's me. But I do it myself. I work really hard to keep it separate from everything else too.

Maybe too hard.

Hi Jef - baby, if you read this one?? I'm nuts, OK? Seriously. I mean - you already know about the meds, but see here's the thing. I run so I don't get fat, but I also run to keep myself sane. If I drink too much Diet Coke, I start to get nutty. I have problems with low blood sugar. I'm afraid I'll get cancer like my dad did, so I'm trying to be healthy, but then I'm convinced I'll get it anyway so sometimes I say "why bother??" I'm petrified of my ex and can't stand up to him at all. I think getting divorced is the smartest and best thing I ever did. I know why I'm with you, but sometimes I wonder why you're with me.

See? NUTS! NUTSNUTSNUTSNUTS.

I just think somewhere along the way I got the idea that I'd be able to sit back and relax, all "aaah, here I am in Happiness U.S.A." and well, so far that hasn't happened. There are times when I know that I'm in the right place at the right time, or I know I'm doing the right thing and I know what "happy" feels like. But most of the time? It eludes me. I wander around, wondering if I'll ever be satisified, if I'll ever go through a whole day without feeling like crying or feeling like there's an oily knot of fear in my chest. One day without feeling like I have to defend everything I do, without worrying that someone will expose all my secrets, will point me out in the crowd for being the moron, the fraud, the dupe the I am. One day of not feeling like I'm pulling the wool over all the normal people's eyes.