Day 81

21 Mar

Lately, I feel like my entire day consists of being screamed at by one or both babies.  Although it is usually only for about 30-60 minutes of my day total probably.  Something about being screamed at, in your face, while being kicked and pushed… it is really… draining?  Horrible?  Infuriating?

It’s hard to feel like I’m being treated poorly.  By the very beings that I carried and nurtured and fed with my own body.  I mean, seriously.  And my labors have not been short.  But they can’t fully communicate or be reasoned with yet.  And sometimes it must be so frustrating for them to not be able to tell me exactly what they want or feel or think about something.

Strangely, I think I feel the way they do some days.  Unable to adequately say what I mean, I thrash about hitting whomever is nearest to me.  (Usually Joe.  Let’s get real here.)  A lot of times I don’t fully say what I want because I’m scared of what I really mean.  Like what’re  you going to think of me?  Did I say the right or wrong thing?  Did I hurt your feelings on accident and you’ll never tell me and we’ll stop being friends and I’ll never understand why and I’ll just think I’m unlovable and a failure?

I suppose this is the week I talk mostly about being scared of things in an attempt to give up those things that haunt me for no real reasons.  Speaking my mind in a real way that doesn’t also hurt others is something I want to do.  It just sounds hard, but I want to be there one day.  

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