Lately I've been feeling self-conscious, transparent, overwhelmed, inadequate. No one particular straw has broken this camel's back, but somedays I feel a steady crumbling inside.
I think it all started with stupid, ridiculous FB. I read a quote, somewhere, that the Internet is "both my lifeline and the plastic bag over my head." So true these days for me. Days when I'm feeling especially low, FB can really send me into a spiral of despair. Seeing other people's fabulous pictures and reading about adventures makes me feel like a lump. Realizing someone de-friended me triggers the beginning of an anxiety-riddled afternoon. No matter I haven't seen or spoken to this person since college, it still makes me question every status update and picture--did I do something wrong? It's the old seventh-grade mentality bubbling to my brain's surface.
And then I think about comments I post on other people's blogs. Am I too self-centered? Do I even make sense? Does anyone even care what I have to say? I should just read, and lurk, and shut the hell up, that's what I should do.
But then it leads to my own blog. Do I sound like a whiny, ungrateful turd? Probably. I am ever so grateful to be pregnant, but am scared shitless 99.9% of every waking moment. My grief glasses taint everything I see, I worry constantly about this baby and my two year old. I can't get to a point in this pregnancy where I can ever relax and "enjoy" it. But still I feel like my words read like a spoiled brat.
And then the minutiae of life starts creeping in around the edges: cleaning my house, dealing with my neurotic dog, toilet training, making dinner, making sure everyone's eating the right food . . . all the little things that are in everyone's life. When something starts to go kerflooey I feel my emotional house of cards start to wobble. And then I'm a real treat to have around.
I am lucky. I have a great life. My husband is wonderful and supportive and caring and great with our son. E is about the best kid a mother could hope for--despite his 2-year-old power grabs, his boundless energy compared with my waning vim, his volume (read: louder than you can imagine, always). I love that little boy with every molecule in my being. I am fortunate enough to be growing this new little boy inside me, and everything, so far, looks good.
But somedays, when I overindulge in the coffee, my head starts to spin and my self-esteem funnels away, leaving me feeling like a complete loser.