Misery Likes Being Alone

I tried to write something several times today, but I can't get past a couple paragraphs. Every time I sit down, I can't think of anything. I can squeeze out a couple lines about some of the mundane details of my life, and that's about it. Because if I go any farther than that, I touch upon what's really bothering me, and I don't want to do that.

I'm sad. I may have spoken too soon about feeling ok even though my period started, but I can't blame it all on that. My unhappiness is based on many factors, none of which I want to contemplate or explain right now. It still consumes me in other ways. Projects go unfinished or not started. I do the chores I usually hate doing (laundry is a perfect example). I go from here to there, never really doing much of anything. If there were some real food in the house, I'd be eating like a horse on top of it all. The only thing I haven't done is watch Oprah.

We didn't have marriage counseling this week, because our counselor is out of town. We go again next week. This isn't all about my marriage, but I'm also not getting any support from it either, and I could really use that right now. In fact, that's about the only place I'd like to get it. My friends do their best to cheer me up, but what I really want is John cheering me up, and he's been particularly distant. It doesn't help my already grey mood. Sometime I just need him. This is one of those times, and he's not there. Now I'm wearing on him with my extended sadness, and he's getting even worse.

The kids and I are going to meet him for dinner tonight at a hole in the wall restaurant near where John grew up. We're going to eat, but the real reason we're going is so he can check out the Addams Family pinball machine I remember seeing there. It seems that particular pinball machine is the most popular one there is, going for well over $1000 a piece. Since pinball is John's latest obsession (no exaggeration), we have to go see it. I wish I never said anything. When will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut and not feed his obsession?

I hate to come here and feel sorry for myself. There are other things gnawing at me, and they are all examples of my sulking. I'm not going to go into them all now. I already feel crappy enough from talking about this much. It's probably best I get it out, but I have to go visit a pinball machine.