The physical pain of sadness

Today at work I felt so down it made my neck tense. Which sounds like the least important thing in the world, but there are days I get excruciating tension headaches, and it makes it impossible to function. I’ve left work sick twice, both times for headaches. It’s embarrassing. A lot’s embarrassing.

Speaking of things I felt embarrassed at work, today it really hit home how embarrassed I am by the fact that my husband is unemployed, and has really only worked shit, dead-end jobs since he graduated from college (he did not work through college, like I did full time while also taking care of all of our household things). It’s like does this not make you feel like shit? But it’s not like i can ask him that. He’s more defensive than I can even comprehend why.


Okay so between last paragraph and this one I decided it was time to finally discuss my husband’s latest two freak-outs with him. It’s really just the same fucking argument and discussions over and over again. It’s been 7.5 years already. Not of marriage, just the whole relationship.

So at any rate, I’m kind of drained from all that, and my head kind of hurts, so I’m not going to be taking long. That discussion, like most of ours, went for like 30 minutes longer than necessary. And one of us only gets a few hours of free time every day (spoiler : IT’S ME) and maybe don’t want to spend the whole of it in an unpleasant conversation. It’s annoying enough having to take the time to eat in the evening. If I could just not need dinner, life would be a lot easier. But I already have a pot of black coffee for breakfast, I think if I have 6 cans of La Croix for dinner my teeth will rot out/I will die.

Plus I have creative pursuits. The writing I’ve so strongly hinted at before, of course. I need time for those. And after eating/the tired that eating brings, it’s pretty much time for bed. It’s good there’s really no good TV shows in existence anymore because I don’t have time. I don’t have children, most days I think I won’t ever. First of all the idea of being physically pregnant freaks me out and disgusts me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m also not all that impressed by it. You know what takes 0% talent/intelligence? Getting knocked up. Plus like…okay a few things. Of course there’s the global issues, like the state the world/environment will be in when children I’d metaphorically have grew up. The general sense that I don’t want to produce another generation with the mental illnesses that run in our families. The specific sense that I’m too fucked up from my own childhood to raise children correctly and will therefore produce fucking basket cases like my brother and I (don’t let my ‘success’ as a human being fool you, the emotional turmoil and pain I’ve experienced solo is nothing anyone ordinary should trifle with. Plus, it makes you all these awful things that you can’t fucking help. Even when part of you is still capable of love, and you still definitely have feelings and it only took you like 2 decades to figure out you didn’t know how to express them – at all, but especially in a healthy manner).

Then there’s also selfish reasons, like I like my life how it is. I sleep well, and 8 hours a night. I only have to clean up after 1 other adult instead of 1 other adult plus tiny people. Don’t get me wrong, babies are cute and it’s important someone wants to you know propagate the species, but there’s enough breeders out there i don’t feel all that compelled to be one.

Plus I mean monetarily we are in no place to have a kid. We’re renting. And half of that rent is bankrolled by my in-laws. For an IMPOSSIBLY long time they paid all of our rent. I still footed the other bills (except cell phones, my husband’s insurance and any car repairs he might need….GOD I sound like a piece of shit when I list it all out. Especially when I get so annoyed by them. I acknowledge that that’s probably MY problem, like if my parent situation weren’t so fucking fucked i think I could try for a much more normal take on them. Like if I calculate how much money they’ve given us it’s sickening.

Plus like…my family has always been that ODD version of lower middle class where sometimes we have ballin’ things. Like my parents were always leasing cars so they had new(ish) vehicles. My dad charged a laptop for me when my old school computer died when I was 18 or 19. My Grandma bought me a brand new car when I was 19. In all fairness, my brother had been given a brand new car when he was 16, free of charge, then my parents PAID him for that car so he could use that $ for a new one and I could use his old one when I turned 16.

I guess when I say it all like that they don’t sound too bad. I honestly remember a great deal of fondness for my Grandma to be rooted in material gifts and shallow shit. Like her apartment complex had an indoor pool. She was my pool access. That’s really important here when you’re a kid. Plus like I wouldn’t have even gotten homecoming or prom dresses if it weren’t for her.


Ugh I should go, talking about my family after talking about all that with my husband, it’s just way too much. I think calling it a waste of time discouraged him.


I’m the worst. But it was either have this horrid discussion or have another day of my boring ass desk job, stewing about this until it hurt.

Which I guess brings me to that topic. The biggest one is the headaches. I have them under control now, I guess? I think it’s because I stopped drinking every single day. Which I mean gee why would that be? I still smoke weed every day. So there’s that. You can seriously fuck off with your negative opinions pertaining to that topic because you will not break me, square. But I actually only drink when I go out and they have beer I like. That’s my issue, I’m a beer drinker. Which, weight-wise, is no one’s ally. So more because I wanted to cut empty calories and not age as quickly did I quit heavily drinking than you know, having dealt with my emotional problems.And here we are at my anonyblog, (get it?) The headaches are the worst, but the runner up is awful as well. Sometimes, if I’ve been crying for a prolonged period (so 15+ minutes), my bottom eyelids start swelling, from like the profuse squinting and squinching I force them to do as I weep. If I cry a great deal at night, which is typically when it happens except those few times at work (wow I got so embarrassed thinking about that I started talking to myself, I freaking hate it when i do that. It was a habit of my Grandma, and my mom as well) I feel it’s so obvious the next morning. They kind of hurt and burn, like you accidentally got oven cleaner in them. It’s then, when your sadness is literally taking a physical toll on you, you know you need to do something. So I guess this is my something for now. Maybe my other writing endeavors will be fruitful and I can alleviate my student loan debt and go to therapy.




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