Another missed month…
Making huge life changes is hard. Deciding to show up for yourself…very hard.
My biggest challenge at the moment: if you didn’t have a hard and terrible day then you didn’t do what you’re supposed to. You didn’t contribute. You were lazy—obviously. If you didn’t spend your day upset and wishing you were anywhere else…you haven’t done anything correctly.
I fight the guilt of staying home every single day. Guilt like a ton of bricks. I have a hard time picking up a book to read because it feels selfish and I’m not allowed to enjoy myself during the work day. Others are suffering, I don’t deserve to read. Reading for pleasure is a luxury.
I live a life of luxury. I don’t deserve it. I should be bogged down with tiny children if I don’t have a 9-5. That’s the only acceptable reason for not working until you hate yourself.
And the money…OH the money. I’m not bringing any home. I’m a waste of a person. It must be terrible to be married to me. So selfish and lazy. David is surely resentful.
All these thoughts, day after day. It makes me a little queasy to type them all out. And I’m tired. Do I even deserve to say I’m tired? I haven’t even done the dishes. I haven’t exercised in three weeks. I just haven’t wanted to.
That’s right, I get to choose what I want to do every day. Talk about spoiled.
Alright, that’s enough, I’m starting to feel sick.
[Why am I not in bed, cozy, with a movie on?]