I feel like this blog has become my diary and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I always feel like I have to apologize for talking about my personal life which makes absolutely no sense I know. Ironically these are the posts that get read the most so maybe I should worry less and write more.
As I settle into my new life with Ryan out of the house I've learned two very important things about myself. One, I somehow manage to turn every creak into a murdering psycho who's on his way to kill me. Two, it's really hard having only a five year old to talk to.
Any stay at home parents will relate to this, but Holden is driving me a little crazy. You'd think I'd be used to it since I don't work, but it's ten times worse now that I don't have a grown up to talk to every evening or someone to take over listening-to-random-kid-thoughts duty. And then when Holden is gone on Saturdays with Ryan, I feel an embarrassing amount of loneliness. Like I don't even know what to do with myself. This has basically lead to the harassment of some of my friends. I'm counting down to the days I move just so I can rest easy knowing other people are in the house. How people live alone I'll never understand. I need to have people around me. Maybe it's because I've always lived with a lot of people, but an empty home doesn't feel like a home to me at all. It just feels like a box where I keep my stuff.
I guess that's the hardest part about this whole mess: the loneliness. It's already lead me to make some questionable decisions. I don't deal well with being by myself. This is something I've always known and I'm trying my hardest to be a little more level headed this time around. Yet, as always, I throw myself into situations I know are bad for me. But even knowing so, I jump headfirst and without any hesitation. Sometimes I wonder if the reason I hold nothing back is so I can feel vindicated when everything burns down around me. Like I can't be touched by the ugliness of blame because I know I gave it my all. It's just impossible to know how I feel about anything anymore. Everything is all tangled up in a mess of rejection and the hope for something better. I tell myself all the things I know I should (like "it's too soon" and "don't over think it") and yet my stubbornness refuses to let go of my inevitable disappointment.
So I retreat back into my world of lists and plans. I'm moving in with my friend and Ryan's brother and we're still trying to find a place. You'd think I'd be keeping busy with school, but I'm having a hard time focusing on anything actually productive. Every time I get caught up in one class I feel like I'm drowning in another. I'm just trying to get through this semester so I can start over in January. It's like I'm stuck in this in-between place where little matters and yet everything means so much more.