Monday, April 29, 2013

Ugh..Just, ugh.

I guess one of the overarching themes of this blog is a sense of dissatisfaction with my life.  I try really hard to not fall into the trap of negative thinking. It's not magical thinking or some The Secret-inspired nonsense, just a deep abiding belief that life is more good than bad, on the whole. But I seem to be in a multi-year downward swing, with only little ups if I look at things as a whole, so obviously I'm falling into the negativity trap.

I'm reminded of Borepatch's comments about life talking in its outside voice, and..yeah.  I've been prone to periods of depression probably my whole life, some longer than others, and I am finally starting to pull out of one but it's clinging like tar to my heels.

It is not, I want to be clear, postpartum depression, or even the baby blues. On the contrary, Doug, Marie, and the older girls have been the shining light in all of this.  There is, still, nothing I like to do more than cuddle one of my children close and smell the top of their head. I am certain it will always be so, though there will probably be some wrestling to accomplish this once they're in their thirties. I'll have to get a cudgel to whack 'em on the backs of their knees.

But anyway...

There are conversations I need to have, like those deep meaningful ones that move mountains and such, but I suck balls when it comes to being tactful. I'm edging closer and closer to the point where I don't give a flying fuck about it, though.  Which is going to be bad, and probably just as useless as every other conversation I've had with grownups lately.

I am also sitting here a lot second-guessing myself. I have never pretended to be anything other than a judgmental bitch when it comes down to it.  I know that hobbies are one of those things that should really be all good so long as they're not harmful, but I'm partial to those that produce something tangible. And while God knows I get obsessive preoccupations, there comes a point when that obsession needs to be turned elsewhere because if it's not outright hurting your relationships it's at least causing stagnation in your life when you need to move forward.

But then maybe I'm just being completely fucking shallow and trying to assign deeper meaning to something that is simply standing on my last nerve.  And maybe it's actually okay to object based upon that, but I don't know.;

Oh, also, I'm once again trying to blog more frequently, so you get brain vomit.  I'll go back to bitching about politics and music soon, promise.


Borepatch said...

There is, still, nothing I like to do more than cuddle one of my children close and smell the top of their head.

I sure miss this - my boys are basically all grown up. It was hard giving up that part of my life.

That said, I think that I'm a lot deeper than I was 5 years ago (scary as that may be to think on). It's not the years, it's the miles - especially the ones over unpaved roads.

Dave said...

Sabra, I won't presume to know the source of your discontent but I do know that one of your hobbies is demonstrates a serious talent. I've said it before and I'll repeat it again about your writing. You have such talent backed with an ability to research and get to the real point of things. You could easily grace the op-ed page of any large city paper. Given the resources, I suspect you could scoop and of the local investigative reporters.

I can't even speculate how much free time you could possibly have, given the little ones underfoot but surely there is an hour or two a day that you could give yourself to write an essay or two, a compilation of which would be worth purchasing as a self published, little up-front cash involved, venture.

I have a former co-worker who has self-published 4 or 5 books now in order to supplement his income as a security guard in a casino. No, he hasn't made enough money to quit his day job, but having attempted to read his nonsense, it was clear he has a lot of spare time and very little talent (or spell check), and still, it has been profitable enough to continue the venture.

Sometimes, bitching is funny (when it isn't at my house), so why not write about it?