It has been an age or more since I last wrote an entry.
Some things have happened since I decided that blogging was important.
Mostly, I fell in love, got engaged, and no longer had that dragging-down darkness of wondering where that missing other half was lurking. It’s odd that I would not have chosen to blog during that early time of our getting together, as it was full of drama and intrigue and oddity. Perhaps it wore me out. I remember getting sick a few times in there. Doesn’t really leave a lot of time for writing.
And here I am, back again.
Despite being in love, I am not loving life.
It’s been a rough time lately.
Money is tight, as it is everywhere. At the moment, with my family’s help, I am safe and warm and contented. I have nothing for which I am wanting. Yet the future is looming, and I am scared.
Neither of us makes enough money to move out, and the wedding is on the horizon. In seven or so months, I will be Mrs. M—– instead of Miss R—–, and I will be expected to move in with my darling and out of the haven of this house.
After all, in spite of the drama and the arguments, this home of mine has always been just that…my home. Regardless of arguments and parental spats, my impatience with my mother and my mini mental breakdowns over the years, this has been my place.
Where will we go if we are flat broke? Without rent to pay, I’m able to put a little bit away each month, but it is truly just a little bit.
It’s hard to think about.
Today I bought a book on becoming more confident. I’m hoping that it will help me.
I’ve been working at the bookstore for more than six years, now. If I made more money, I’d almost be proud to have been somewhere for that long. I have a nice clientele, many of whom I consider friends now. I know my job very well, and I usually enjoy my time there.
But I make peanuts. Peanuts. (Actually, an elephant might even laugh if I offered these peanuts.)
I’m frightened to leave the bookstore. I’m too scared to even try.
In truth, I think that I’m also too lazy. Yet, that could be the depression talking.
Three years ago next week was when I broke down and ditched student teaching. My meltdown was the nail in the coffin of my confidence. Now I edge closer to the darkness every day, and wonder when I’ll finally just fall into the abyss for good.
I write that in the sense of metaphor, but honestly, I’ve been having some scary dreams and bleak thoughts.
I can only write about it right now because I am feeling better. If anyone were to read these words and worry, there would be no reason to. It’s when I don’t write about the fear and the pain, when I say nothing, that there should be real worry.
Last week was most definitely worrisome.
Something has to change soon. I can’t live this way, in complete fear of the future.
(sigh)
Excuse me, but can I be you for a while?
Let’s expand on Tori…can I just be someone else?
