It’s been a rough month, I do think. I didn’t think the year would start off like this. I had goals and planned sunshine. I still have goals, but my sun has effectively gone on strike – either that or I was horribly disillusioned or confused and planned my sunshine on a fading matchstick. Match — sun — whatever, close enough. I burn from both.

And this is where I get personal and gross, and Mom don’t worry about all this, it’s just me smooshing and getting it out. Things aren’t right. I keep getting this feeling that something is horribly wrong or disasterously out of place. I’ve had this feeling twice in the last year — the first was the day before Matt’s birthday (when I slaved in that kitchen all day for that unbelievably fucked up asshole.). I knew something was amiss, felt it in my gut — and sure as shit — it fell apart. The other time … two days before I took Miss Yuna to the vet. And I’m feeling a little freaky deaky about the gut.

I think what I did too Yuna has put me off a bit (well, more than I already was). I’m not quite the same as before, distracted by shiny objects and cake. Seriously tho … even tho I know what I did was the right decision for her — I feel like a terrible person for making the choice to take someone’s life. And I refer to Yuna as someone because … well, she was a better companion than any boyfriend. (Mind you, she was stuck with me by force – so. heh).

Yah, I’m doing the Lamcital, and it keeps me stable, or at least mutes the crazies. But I know things aren’t right. You know how some people, when they get depressed or stressed out, or emotionally fatigued — they’ll like freak out and binge like there’s no tomorrow — or go and spend all their money on clothes, or max out their credit cards — well — I have somethign I do as well. It’s not necessarily destructive, but I see the pattern when I’m fairly distressed.
I turn to musicals.

And shut up all of you who just laughed (and I know who you are, bitches.) (Quit laughing.) When I was a missionary and oh-so-terribly depressed, miserable, and neck deep in dispair, I turned to musicals for relief. I’m sure it was just because I could escape to somewhere else, feel someone else’s feelings, listen to someone else’s words and experiences.

And … I’ve found myself doing it again. Within the last week, I’ve broken out Sunset Blvd (with Fatty LuPone even! *gasp*!), Jekyll & Hyde, Aida, and now … the sign that there is really something wrong — Aspects of Love. *le sigh*

I have an appointment with a therapist on Friday to start getting this shit sorted out before I really become crazy.

*sigh* And now I just made a loaf (shut up, David) of Banana Bread — and it’s quite anti-climactic. So bland.

Ya know, there’s gotta be something so much more than this. I kind’a miss the days when I was a kid and my mom would come and read to me in bed and about the Princess and the Jelly Beans. Actually, I really miss just laying in bed and being read to or cuddled (not curdled) and rocked and stuff.

But tomorrow’s another day filled with more fun and exciting programming and musicals and sad banana bread (hmm… one of these things is not like the others.) I just am ready to be out of this. Ya know?