Sometimes I wander and wonder around inside my thoughts and occasionally that leads to a bit of an existential quandary that leaves me wanting to hide under my bed with loads of tissue and maybe a bucket of ice-cream. Standard procedure usually is kick-self-out-of-bed-go-walk-dogs-maybe-get-to-the-gym.
Last week, in addition to not being particularly motivated to being alive, I was also suffering from residues of rheumatoid inflammation which has had me practically house-bound.
Add that to the realisation that I may have, once-again, bitten off a load more than I could chew workwise, and the rather unfortunate end of the life of an uncle which naturally brings in relative stress of the family kind.
In short, I ended up in a particularly pitiful emotional funk. It started with innocent time comparisons.
This time last year, says person of genetic affiliation, I had a new baby. Oh, the pregnancy was easy. But man, I should have asked for all the painkillers when labour started.
Awww, she’s so adorable!
They grow so fast! I’m thinking we should start looking for kindergartens soon.
Oh, you should definitely check out xxxxx. My porkie-pie started there this year. It’s a great centre.
“This time last year, I was going through a bit of depressive apathy.” It resounds in my head as they go on and on. You can’t say that Juliet, I remind myself. It is irrelevant now because they are not talking about this time last year. They are talking about babies and kindergartens and hubby’s new job that is taking him away from home so much. Grown-up stuff.
“Right. But wait, if you weren’t a stubborn little b- thing,” not little but definately stubborn, “you might have been talking about babies and grown up stuff this time this year.”
“Oh come on! You’d have killed him by now,” most likely not, but quite possible, “or even worse walked out on him. Can you imagine the scandal? Like why get married when it is absolutely clear that you are on two different pages? Plus there’s the other stuff.”
“What stuff? Lupus? There’s plenty of people living with chronic diseases who are sharing their lives with decent human beings who can handle chronically ill partners. Your problem wasn’t Lupus, never was, never will be. Your problem is that you are a fundamentally flawed human being who must have their own way all the time. You will die alone.”
“All men must die. Valar Morghulis!”
“Seriously? You are going to try and wiggle out of this devastating self-analysis with high Valeryian!”
Hey, cuz, have you heard from you-know-who-you-almost-married lately? We are going to do this family holiday thing with akina nani and we thought he’d be just the perfect guy to hook us up with a good deal for the trip. Does he still do those things he used to do as his business which I could check online but it is more fun to ask you and watch you wiggle uncomfortably?
I’m maybe going to try and get out of this hole of feels and go over and help the bloody moles build a hill over there. Dogs need walking. I most likely won’t get to the gym though. I can’t deal with humans.