For the longest time now I have been dealing with a sense of blah... if that makes any sense. I've had no desire to do anything. No desire to go to work (understandable since it totally sucks right now). No desire to eat. No desire to hang out with my friends or really talk to anyone at all. No desire to listen to music. And no desire to read. Those last few are very strange for me since I love to do them and my day is wrong without them. Be that as it may, there is no desire. I've been wondering what's wrong with me? I recently graduated from college and I have a lot of free time on my hand. I should be excited and ready for the fun I couldn't have while I was cramming my head full of all the useful knowledge. But nope, all I feel is a sense of "blah".
I think part of it is because of my missing my brother. This year has been really hard for me emotionally to deal with the markers that remind me of Billium. And I don't feel as if I can really talk to anyone about it. They all kind of clam up when his name gets mentioned. I tried to get the family together for his birthday this month and everyone had something else they had to do or for some reason (valid though they might be) they couldn't make it. When I did get some of us together with Dad, no one said a word about Bill. I know it hurts but it hurts more to keep it buried inside.
Another part of my blahness may be that I'm heading towards 30 with nothing much to brag about in the accomplishment area. I have no husband and or kids. I have no place of my own. In fact, I have only 1 small bedroom and bathroom but I can't even call that my own because I have to get someone else's opinion on everything I do to that bedroom/bathroom. I was told the minute I moved in not to put anything up on the walls because there were plans for it but it's been over 2 years and nothing has happened and still, nothing on the walls. Small things, I know, but when the only space you can call your own isn't your own... the small things matter.
My sister Jennifer thinks that I should go see a counselor but I can't picture myself spilling my guts out for some stranger to pick apart and analyze. But it's getting harder and harder to maintain the facade that I've put in place between myself and the world. Each smile is more difficult. Each laugh causes another fissure in my armor. And more and more my mind is filled with very disturbing thoughts and my heart grows numb.
I'm hoping that just writing my thoughts down will help me to work things out and to get rid of all the blah in my life. At least now I have something to look back on and compare to tomorrow's blahs.
