Why can’t I get myself to post anything here? I can’t tell funny little stories, as if I don’t spend most of the time wanting to smash something. (Not always something small and human.)
There’s nothing to say except about this great ugly misery, and I’m not that miserable. Not really. Or at least not all of the time. Just dreary, I guess.
How can I complain about my life, which is better than pretty much anybody, anywhere, ever, in all of humanity, has had. Right? So shut the fuck up, Sue.
Anyway, once I post it, it’s out there. I’ve only fairly recently started talking about it, kind of making it real. But I don’t want my kids to one day read this (if they live that long! (yes, that was a joke- that’s about as good as the jokes get around here these days,)) and think that they were the reason for me being unhappy. Definitely not them- they’re pretty much perfect, just, you know, motherhood.
It’s going to get so much better, I know that. And if I pretend for now that it’s better than it is, well that’s no fun to write! So for now, it’s just best if I don’t blog.