That’s kind of how my week has gone. The thing that scares me the most about this is, they all seem to go this way. Week after week, another one goes down the toilet…along with hundreds and hundreds of dollars of food. Way too much of my life revolves around the toilet, quite frankly. I need to get out more.
But it’s Friday, which is good. Soon it will be Friday afternoon and that will be even better. Followed by Saturday, which is a big relief. Then Sunday, when I gear up to do it all over again. Monday is horrid; I can barely force myself to face it. Tuesday is still really depressing and difficult. Wednesday is more drudgery, but I’m becoming numb to it. Thursday, there is hope of a break; some rest if I can just hang on a little bit longer. Which brings me to Friday once more, thankful it’s almost the weekend when the demands of performing are reduced. Do you get the feeling I am dragging and clawing myself through the week, just…barely…hanging…on…until…the…weekend?
Weekends are a big relief. I can get up whenever I wake up and I can take a nap if I get tired. I can even take two naps if I’m feeling exhausted. Sometimes, if things are especially not going well, I might not get dressed if I’m too depressed. I can fail and not beat myself up so badly. I don’t have to fight and struggle like I do during the week. I play with the dog. I play on the computer. I run a few errands. I try to do a few chores. Yes, I’m always pushing myself, but on the weekends, I don’t push nearly as hard. I cut myself some slack. I give myself some time to breathe and to crash and burn. If I don’t perform at an adequate level, I’m not going to utterly hate and despise myself for it. Not as much, anyway. On the weekends, I can be who I am, even though who I am is not acceptable.
I wonder what life would be like if I didn’t hate myself. I get the feeling most people DON’T – hate themselves, that is. I can’t honestly imagine how that must feel. But I would think it would be kind of nice to actually enjoy your own company and not be completely disgusted with yourself. Maybe, if a person likes who they are, they don’t simply endure the day…day after day after day. Flushing them all away down the toilet as fast as possible as they try to make it to another weekend when they get another short reprieve. Maybe, when they like themselves, they actually find some enjoyment in every day…even in a MONDAY. Maybe, if you like who you are, you can like your world too. It’s just speculation on my part, because, honestly, I can’t fathom what this would actually feel like. I still have my head in the toilet. Watching the food as it’s flushed away, along with my emotions and sorrow. Watching the days go around and around and down the drain, never to be experienced again. Watching my life disappear minute by minute, day by day, week by week, year by year. Watching it all whirl around and vanish. And I can never, ever, ever get it back…