Normally on the first of the month I would be posting a boring post about the number of miles I ran and how awesome I am or how I am giant disappointment. I'm not doing that this month because I DON'T CARE.
I. Don't. Care.
I'll outline in bullets.
- I would LOVE for someone, ANYONE, to tell me what my giant personality flaw is that I'm so easy to walk away from. No, really. My ex moved to a different state and I hear from him maybe 10 times a year. A doesn't hear from him either. After 4 years of dating and living together, J walked out the door without a look back. Clearly it is me, not them.
- Related: Being told stupid things like "you'll be fine" and "it's no big deal" and "I don't understand why you're so upset anyway" just makes me ragey and sad.
- I'm lonely. I'm sad. I'm mad.
- There is nothing worse than telling someone you love them and not even getting a response back.
- I'm acting like a crazy person. I hate being on social media. Everyone is so fucking happy it just pisses me off. It isn't fair. I changed my phone number. And the sad thing is... I didn't even need to. I have had ZERO people email/FB/tweet me to say that can't get a hold of me. ZERO. No, it's not just the fact that I had yet another guy walk out on me and A, I don't even have any "friends" that even give a crap to ask me if I'm ok.
- I'm not ok. The last month with A in Texas was awful. At least when she is here I have "responsibility" and something to occupy my time. Other than the few times I ran with Hope, I had ZERO friends that offered to take me out or come over and have a beer. ZERO.
- I'm over it. I'm tired of everything. Nothing is fun. Nothing is interesting. Nothing sounds exciting. I am not looking forward to everything. I hate my job. I hate being broke. I hate my life right now.
Things I assumed would make me happy:
- Losing weight. Nope. Who cares. I doubt my weight loss would be so great if I wasn't too depressed to eat. Nothing sounds good.
- Being able to run again. I guess. I mean out of everything I guess not hating running is a good thing, although now that A is back and I no longer have someone to watch her I am back to running on the fucking treadmill. WHICH I HATE.
So what is even the point of this. Nothing I guess. Other than it has been two months and I feel just as crappy now as I did then.
When I was a kid I automatically assumed I would get married and have a family and live happily ever after. Turns out, not so much. I don't even feel like I have that high of expectations. Having a job, a car, good with A, mutual respect, a little support and a compliment here and there.
Well. Not so much.
What I'm left with is being 35 years old, a single mom with dead-end shit job who lives with her sister. And I get to START OVER again.
I'm tired of it. I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of being disappointed. I'm tired of not being good enough. I'm tired of being desperate and needy and insane. I'm just tired.
Back to blogging hiatus.