It's all taking it's toll on me - my Dad, the demands my Mom puts on me, the kids, the house. I'm sick, and I do thinks it's my body throwing up it's hands and crying uncle. I'm tired all the time, but I seem to be getting more sleep than I normally do. I don't want to go out, see people, do things. I feel mostly socially inept and cut off from the normal world. And it's not anything that can be helped by a night out with the girls. I don't know what can help. I'm at a loss, I'm out of ideas.
I get in bike rides when I can - usually interrupted by several phone calls from my mother - and average swinging once a week, if I'm lucky. Those usually get interrupted, too. I don't get a lot of time to myself, and I don't feel selfish in wanting an hour here or there. And yet, somehow, it is deemed selfish. And I wonder how long I can go on like this, functioning along, meeting everyone's needs but my own, feeling guilty if I stop for even a moment to think about my life, or what I might want or need. I'm tired, angry, resentful. I'm sick of being bugged about 'when I'm going to update Dad's blog.' And then - my favorite - being told what I can and cannot say in said blog. I'm glad people like to read what I write, and I'm glad people think I'm a good writer, but it's not something I look forward to if I'm being censored and given 'tips' from someone who can't spell pretty much anything.
I didn't mean for this to turn into such a rant. It just came spilling out. I was trying to give a brief explanation of why I haven't been writing and where I've been, and I guess I have done that. Tomorrow is yet another day of the grind, and I hope to be less sick than I have been the last few days. I hope to be able to swing KBs and maybe pick up my house. I hope to be able to shake of the crushing and constant criticism I hear every day. I hope to be able to want to get out of bed. I used to look forward to each day, and lately, not so much. But I still have hope that it will get better.