I hate the weekends with a passion, the majority of you spend your weeks looking forward to them. Seeing them as a time of relaxation, fun and excitement. I guess it goes back to when I had to spend so called quality time with my vile excuse for a husband, that is purely my view as some may actually like him. I've already mentioned that I've been on my own now for just over two years, me and the kids that is, and still the weekends are nothing to look forward to.
Being broke most of the time doesn't help, plus my inability to actually let go and have a good time without any kids in tow. My working week usually consists of Monday, Tuesday and Thursday so for me the weekend starts on a Friday. Lucky me? I try to get as much done on a Friday as I can, makes sense. Saturday consists of getting up early to do papers with Nath. His Saturday papers are horrendous so we take the car as its just far too many to take on his bike. Next is laundry on, hoover and clean round, then off to Weight Watchers. Its the same old thing every week. Mundane boring tosh!
Sunday's I actually look forward to. Sunday means a lie in until the church bells at 10.15. This time of year the sun pours in and its a real pleasure to lie in. The rest of the day is spent doing nothing apart from ironing school uniform, a complete and utter waste of a day. Sometimes I'd sooner be at work!
Yesterday I stripped my bed. up until yesterday I had a feather bed on top of my mattress. It's years old and a bit of a comfort thing if I'm absolutely honest. The feather bed was inside its own cover because I've not been able to get it cleaned due to its size and bulk. I decided to wash the cover yesterday so took it off, only to be left with a rather large amount of loose feathers and a vile looking feather bed. So into a bin bag it went. Luckily I have a decent mattress on my bed but it does look a shadow of its former self. I didn't sleep at all well last night, a combination of sleeping on a different surface and an overactive mind.
Apart from feeling unwell with a stonker of a headache and my diverticular disease playing up, I've got a muddled head. Several weeks ago now a lovely caring man came into my life, sadly 450 miles separate us, so because of this we've had to conduct a relationship via Twitter, text and the phone. I usually have a weekly clear out of texts so my phone isn't bogged down, but for some reason I've not touched our conversations. I sat and read them back last night...big mistake. For one I now know what a serial texter I am, and for that I apologise, that would really get on my nerves. Anyway, it set me off thinking about the whole situation, not a good thing. I realised how afraid I am of it all, and most of all how afraid I am of meeting up. I spend so much time worrying about what people think that its becoming a huge obstacle. I look at others going off on their weekends away etc and still find myself seeking permission and approval of others before doing anything. No wonder I don't have a social life, I'm 45 on my next birthday surely I'm of an age to just do whatever I want. I can see what I'm doing and that's setting myself up to fail...destroying a relationship before I've even been able to give it a chance all because I've allowed myself to become so afraid of opinion and feelings.
No comments:
Post a Comment