Every once in a while, I go into this serious downward spiral of negative thinking and self-bashing, usually on my way to work that puts me into a funk for the entire day. ((And no, I don’t think I’m depressed. Having struggled with depression in the past, I feel confident in my ability to say that these are temporary funks that are usually directly related to how much sleep and exercise I’m getting, how much (or how little) alcohol I’m consuming, and how “clean” my eating habits have been.))
The litany usually goes something like this:
-I need to come up with a new blog post. I’ve had the same blog post on for days now without updating it…. Actually, who am I kidding? No one reads the damn thing. I’m not actually funny, even if people do read it. Why can’t my blog be more like I Like Beer and Babies? Or Rants from Mommyland? I don’t know who I was fooling when I started this thing back in January… Maybe I should just give up on the blog.
-I need to email Schmiddie/Elise/(Insert Long-Lost Friend Here). It’s been forever since I’ve written them. Eh, that’s a lot of effort. And they probably don’t care anyway. Maybe I’ll do it next week. Yeah, next week. I’ll feel like it then.
-Look at my hair/face/outfit. I’m such a schlub. I don’t know why I try to look nice when I always look the same. ((Not that I really put a lot of effort into it. My beauty routine consists of leave-in conditioner and tinted moisturizer. )) I should get my eyebrows waxed. I should go buy some makeup. Eh, who am I kidding? It’d just sit in the drawer and be a waste of money.
-Speaking of money, why do I not have more money? Remember in college, when I spent all that money on (insert stupid experience or possession here)? Why was I so stupid with my money when I was younger? I should have saved more. God, I’m a shitty money manager. We’re never going to be able to afford another kid and it’s all my fault.
-Why didn’t any of my friends text me to check on LB when she was sick? Are they just pretending to be my friends because they don’t have the guts to cut me out of the gang? I text them when they or their kids are sick. Most of the time. Acutally I don’t. I’m a crap friend. I wonder if and why they even like me….
-You know, the Littlest Brewster didn’t even care when I dropped her off at daycare this morning. I don’t think she even noticed I was gone. I think she really only likes the DreadBrewer. I think Ethan’s the only one in the house who really, truly loves me.
And so on and so forth, for the entire 45 minute drive to work until I’m in such a black cloud of gloom that the entire day is just ruined. And usually the evening, too. ((These are the nights I tell DB to just leave me alone with my bubble bath and my book. Which usually helps. Unless I’m reading a trashy romance novel, in which case I then become upset because obviously the DreadBrewer doesn’t love me like Brandon loves Heather in The Flame and the Flower. Which is ridiculous because, as anyone who’s read the book knows, their marriage was based on his raping her and getting her pregnant. I much prefer my marriage based on love and mutual trust.))
And it’s ridiculous.
I mean, I wouldn’t say any of this shit to my friends. Heck, I wouldn’t even say this to my enemies. Why on earth do I think it’s okay to say it to myself? Why do we treat ourselves more horribly than we would ever treat another person?
Ugh. At least it’s only a day of funk.