Is it strange that I least look forward to the weekends? Everyone is home but I rarely want anything to do with them. It feels like they're invading on my space and I find myself feeling crowded and panicky. It's sad really. I spend the week feeling lonely and then when there are people I don't know what to do.
I woke up this morning deciding that I was going to do something useful with my day. I coloured my hair and gave myself bangs (whether that was a good decision or not, is yet to be determined). I watched a movie but I couldn't get myself to leave the house. I thought about it. A lot. I got dressed but I haven't done my make up. I argued with myself for a few hours and then I gave up. Clearly going outside is too hard today. Maybe I'll be able to go tomorrow.
I've been thinking about maybe doing some volunteer work so that I have some sort of commitment outside the house. It would be good to get out. Good to meet some other people. But it seems like that's going to be another one of those things I'll just think about for ages and never actually action.
Thinking about how sad my behaviour is makes me feel sad. I feel bad for this person I've become. How did she get this way? Has life really been so terrible? Do any of the disappointments, losses or choices really warrant this level of sad? Has she truly been such a failure? A little part of me likes to think no. Then the rest of me says yes. It's been too much.
Funny how I tend to go through this cycle of thought each Monday. It's not necessarily a dark day but its a low day. A rainy gray type of day, that just brings me down. How nice it would be for these days to be a rarity rather than the norm.
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