I've only left the house twice this week; once when a friend called to see if I'd be up for a quick excursion and once to go to the store for my son's Halloween costume materials. Pathetic and lame, I know.
With one part of my mind, I don't want to withdraw because I know that being around others will likely help lift my mood. But the other part seizes any opportunity to not get out so I know I'm trying to withdraw into myself. It takes a monumental effort to get dressed, let alone leave the house, and I've been clinging to any excuse to stay home.
I should be at a super-awesome playdate right now. My son loves this venue and I was actually looking forward to it all week because a bunch of my favorite people (not all though) were going. The kiddo and I woke up a little late, but I figured we could still make it and have plenty of time to have fun. So why am I at home blogging and not at the playdate?
I couldn't get my printer to work to print out a BOGO coupon to the venue. I wasn't even planning to use a coupon since I didn't know it existed until shortly before we were going to leave. Then I started to rationalize that I shouldn't go unless I had the stupid fucking coupon. Again, a coupon I didn't even know about until this very morning. See what I mean about clinging to any excuse to stay home?
I think my husband is concerned because he nags me to get out every day with our son. I don't think he understands just how hard it is for me right now. My MIL has been nagging me to go to therapy to help process my feelings and grief. I tried to explain to her that I just want to be alone and I don't think she understood. I've been nagging myself that I might as well go back to work if I'm going to be such a lazy slob because my son deserves better, he deserves to have me the way I was before.
I tell myself that I just need some alone time, but that is in such short supply these days. When my best friend and my grandmother died within three weeks of each other, I threw myself into my work. But I also made good use of my commute to and from the office. I screamed. I yelled my head off. If no one was around me at stop lights, I would throw my head back and howl out my pain with little regard to the tears coursing down my cheeks. Sometimes I would pull over in an industrial area I drove through and alternately scream and cry.
Some people heal with quiet meditation, but I'm a screamer. I think that primal screaming is a psychotherapuetic relic of 70s and 80s, but I find that having the freedom to shout leaves me feeling refreshed. It drains away tension and somehow quiets my mind.
So one stupid thing has wrecked my entire day. . .and all I want to do is scream out my pain and frustration.