Happiness

I'm suffering under such extreme PSM today that I'm convinced I'm not happy, I've never been happy and I never will be.  I'm just not very good at being content.  Writing this makes me worry somehow that it will be truer.  I live in fantasy land. The tall blonde gorgeous man fantasy. The American man fantasy.  The travel fantasy. I need to start enjoying my life now! I need to stop worrying about keeping up with the Jonses and start just doing what makes me happy.  I don't even know what that is though.  I can't commit to even liking anything since it might 'say something about' me.  Is that even true? I'm not sure if I actually think that.  Can I not commit to anything? sure I can't comit to any paintings or other decor in my room but that's cause I don't want to feel settled here. I want to move home SOON.  Most people bug me or I find dull or I figure are too cool to be interested in me. aarrgh. I've eaten my whole week's supply of weight watchers chocolate bars and my next meeting (yes it is like AA) is not for another 5 days.  I'd better get my period tomorrow or things are going to be difficult.

The Housewife Fantasy

I'm presently consumed by what I'm going to call the housewife fantasy.

 

What fun to get to spend the day with my beautiful imaginary infant, teaching it and watching it develop while I bake innumerable goodies which await my imaginary husband's return from work when we'd play with the baby for a while, put him to bed and have wild sex in the kitchen!  We'd have a lovely clean house and everything would be perfectly taken care of.  I'd find the role of wife and mother so relaxing compared to the stresses of working life.  I’d have time for all my hobbies, sewing and gardening and reading.  At weekends, we’d entertain friends from ‘playgroup’ and discuss our children’s development.

 

Blah.  I can’t hold that thought any longer it’s beginning to make me sick.  So I’m broody.  Really broody but the idea of (eugh) entertaining play dates just for their own sake? Damn.  I’d need my own life and my own friends that I liked just for my own fun.  And sure I’m insanely jealous of my friends with kids but there is a part of me that wonders – aren’t you horribly bored of spending all your time with someone who can’t even talk?