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Wednesday, April 11, 2007

Brighter Discontent

Is it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the attempted murder I witnessed last month?

Am I my mother's daughter and I'm bi-polar?

Is my heart just permanently broken and I'm destined to be sad?

Am I seriously clinically depressed?

Is it hormones from the pregnancy?

I don't know. One? Some? All of the above?

Whatever the answer, I think I am in deep trouble here. I am crying with whole body sobs for hours every day. I am beginning to feel like being a mother is an obligation that keeps me from being able to kill myself rather than a joy. It's hard to feel joy when I feel like I am not good enough for my daughter.

I've noticed that the new trend is self-esteem. I have decided that no one loves me (other than blood relatives who are 'supposed to') and further I have decided that I don't deserve to be loved - even by them. I'm old, I'm ugly, I'm stupid, I'm irresponsible, I'm lazy, slow, no personality...

I know it's time to call someone for help before this goes too far (or is it too far already?) but I just can't bring myself to pick up the phone.

Who would I call? A friend? I have none. A therapist? I can't afford one...and I mean I REALLY can't afford one.

Who would I call?

911?

I hate my life so much. I take full responsibility for how awful it is, but I can't fix it.

I'm drowning in my own shortcomings, failures, bad decisions and mistakes.

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Brighter Discontent
Artist or band: The Submarines
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Got a brand new roof above my head
All the empty boxes thrown away
I rearranged the place
A hundred times today
But the ordering of objects
Couldn't hide what's missing

All these things should make me happy
Make me happy to be home again
All these things should make me happy
Make me happy to be alone again

Got myself a bottle of red wine
Got a night of nothing else to do
I think I might know
What I really want
But is a brighter discontent
The best that I could hope to find?

Got a big black television set
Now I can watch just what I want
But I'm here staring up
At pictures on the wall
And where are you,
You're still stuck inside them all

All these things should make me happy
Make me happy to be home again
All these things should make me happy
Make me happy to be alone again

But love is not these belongings
That surround me
Though there's meaning
In the memories they hold
A breaking heart in an empty apartment
Was the loudest sound I never heard

Got a desk I'll write myself a note
Pretending that it came from you
On hotel stationary
From the time we first met
Whatever I can do cause
I won't throw my hands up yet

All these things should make me happy
Make me happy to be home again
All these things should make me happy
Make me happy to be alone again

But love is not these belongings
That surround you
Though there's meaning
In the memories they hold
A breaking heart in an empty apartment
Was the loudest sound I never heard

Well I'll be fine ifI dont look around me now
Too much for what's gone
If only I can wait here just a little while
And let time pass in my room

3 comments:

perdido said...

It's all those hormones rearing their ugly head due to the pregnancy. You're not crazy.

Anonymous said...

Christine, are you saying that you were all those things the day BEFORE you met Jeff for the first time? Or are you saying that your affair with Jeff allowed you, for the first time, to see yourself for what you really are? I doubt it.

Its the hormones.

Anonymous said...

being pregnant will do that hun! Hugs n all that.
Carrie