Down the rabbit hole
Well I woke up this morning in bed, I tried to hold on to the memory of my dream that was ebbing away as my conciousness took hold, I really wish I could remember what it was about. Failing at the task, I rolled over and stared at him. He looked so strong last night, a fantastic example of masculine. But as he was sleeping, with those features fully relaxed, that too faded with the morning light. He looked young, young and vulnerable. What a deception. I can't believe his eyelashes are longer than mine are, it's really not fair.
I heard the baby crying, and I actually felt resentment. I knew it was my turn to get him, it's always my turn. navigating down the hallway, I stepped on one of Clark's toys. SHIT why does he have such friggin sharp toys? He's a baby for Pete's sake, we must be insane. I finished limping to his room, and turned on the light, the floor in there is covered with toys, and I didn't feel like being impaled again.
He was standing up in his crib, his cheeks all purple from the effort put into screaming bloody murder, his nose running almost worse than his eyes. I picked him up roughly and told him to hush up, but immediately felt bad about it. It's not the baby's fault I feel this way. So incomplete.
We went in the kitchen to get the baby a bottle, and me some coffee. Dillon was already there, reading that stupid book it seems he is always reading. He looked up and asked me to hurry with breakfast, he has to leave for work in 30 minutes. I told him that I would make him breakfast if he would change Clark, and that turned into another fight. Why can't he help me? I thought that I was signing up to be on a team when I said "I do". It seems like it was more of a maid application.
Dillon left in a huff, said I would probably be in bed when he got back because he was going to be working late.
I know who "working late" is and I wish I could wring her skinny blonde neck.
The baby had started bawling again when Dillon slammed the door. I almost yelled at him to shut up, but stopped just in time. That's good, I can't handle any more guilt.
I took Clark to the Wal Mart on Jefferson St., they were having a discount on baby photos. I haven't taken very many pictures of my baby so far, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because he looks so much like Dillon. He's got those same eyelashes goddammit. God, I am a terrible mother. Millie always pesters me about taking more photos of her grandson, probably for the same reason I don't take pictures. He looks like his daddy.
I got 10 wallet sized, 3 8 by 5's and this obscenely large one because it was only 50 cents extra on special. There. I'll give that to Millie and maybe I can get her off my back for five minutes.
I got some groceries too, I'll be making fettuchine alfredo tonight.
When me and Clark arrived home, I looked around and felt like I was in a vice, I could barely breath and I almost dropped the baby. For a moment as I lay on the floor trying to retrieve my missing breath, I actually wondered if I was going to die this time. Janice, my therapist, says panic attacks are normal, and if I just wait calmly for it to pass then everything will be alright. I don't want them to pass. I tried to hold on to it as long as I could, help it to steal the air from me until my lungs break and my heart stops. It didn't work. I picked the now crying baby back up and got a rag to clean up the broken bottle of alfredo sauce.
I wasn't always like this you know. People used to tell me that I was like a little ray of sunshine. I used to be giddy, and my bad moods always went away quickly. Damn I was resiliant. I had these dreams you know? Hopes, wishes, all these plans for what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I can't believe how quickly it ended for me, life, i mean. 15 minutes, a lousy fifteen minutes, I might add, and BAM! I was Pregnant. Why did I go through with all of this? Dillon and I, our relationship is based on lust, then guilt, and pressure. Welcome to dysfunction junction. I don't even know what to call our relationship anymore, now that he's got that Barbie-whats-her-face seceretary.
Men are like that, they get older, they have a bad relationship, women flock to that. Draws them like a mouse to D-con. Women get washed out though, I've thought about having a fling, an affair, but men don't look at me like that anymore. They see Clark, his pudgy, drooly face, and they just look away.
I guess it's time to accept it. This is my life, this is what I chose to do, it's nobody's fault but mine.
I looked out the window as I was washing the dishes, you know, the curvy window? That's a good window, my favorite I think. I watched the sun setting and tried my very best to not panic at the thought of another day.
The dream I had this morning, the one I can't remember, hung over me like a cloud all today. I really wish I could remember it.
I heard the baby crying, and I actually felt resentment. I knew it was my turn to get him, it's always my turn. navigating down the hallway, I stepped on one of Clark's toys. SHIT why does he have such friggin sharp toys? He's a baby for Pete's sake, we must be insane. I finished limping to his room, and turned on the light, the floor in there is covered with toys, and I didn't feel like being impaled again.
He was standing up in his crib, his cheeks all purple from the effort put into screaming bloody murder, his nose running almost worse than his eyes. I picked him up roughly and told him to hush up, but immediately felt bad about it. It's not the baby's fault I feel this way. So incomplete.
We went in the kitchen to get the baby a bottle, and me some coffee. Dillon was already there, reading that stupid book it seems he is always reading. He looked up and asked me to hurry with breakfast, he has to leave for work in 30 minutes. I told him that I would make him breakfast if he would change Clark, and that turned into another fight. Why can't he help me? I thought that I was signing up to be on a team when I said "I do". It seems like it was more of a maid application.
Dillon left in a huff, said I would probably be in bed when he got back because he was going to be working late.
I know who "working late" is and I wish I could wring her skinny blonde neck.
The baby had started bawling again when Dillon slammed the door. I almost yelled at him to shut up, but stopped just in time. That's good, I can't handle any more guilt.
I took Clark to the Wal Mart on Jefferson St., they were having a discount on baby photos. I haven't taken very many pictures of my baby so far, and I don't know why. Maybe it's because he looks so much like Dillon. He's got those same eyelashes goddammit. God, I am a terrible mother. Millie always pesters me about taking more photos of her grandson, probably for the same reason I don't take pictures. He looks like his daddy.
I got 10 wallet sized, 3 8 by 5's and this obscenely large one because it was only 50 cents extra on special. There. I'll give that to Millie and maybe I can get her off my back for five minutes.
I got some groceries too, I'll be making fettuchine alfredo tonight.
When me and Clark arrived home, I looked around and felt like I was in a vice, I could barely breath and I almost dropped the baby. For a moment as I lay on the floor trying to retrieve my missing breath, I actually wondered if I was going to die this time. Janice, my therapist, says panic attacks are normal, and if I just wait calmly for it to pass then everything will be alright. I don't want them to pass. I tried to hold on to it as long as I could, help it to steal the air from me until my lungs break and my heart stops. It didn't work. I picked the now crying baby back up and got a rag to clean up the broken bottle of alfredo sauce.
I wasn't always like this you know. People used to tell me that I was like a little ray of sunshine. I used to be giddy, and my bad moods always went away quickly. Damn I was resiliant. I had these dreams you know? Hopes, wishes, all these plans for what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I can't believe how quickly it ended for me, life, i mean. 15 minutes, a lousy fifteen minutes, I might add, and BAM! I was Pregnant. Why did I go through with all of this? Dillon and I, our relationship is based on lust, then guilt, and pressure. Welcome to dysfunction junction. I don't even know what to call our relationship anymore, now that he's got that Barbie-whats-her-face seceretary.
Men are like that, they get older, they have a bad relationship, women flock to that. Draws them like a mouse to D-con. Women get washed out though, I've thought about having a fling, an affair, but men don't look at me like that anymore. They see Clark, his pudgy, drooly face, and they just look away.
I guess it's time to accept it. This is my life, this is what I chose to do, it's nobody's fault but mine.
I looked out the window as I was washing the dishes, you know, the curvy window? That's a good window, my favorite I think. I watched the sun setting and tried my very best to not panic at the thought of another day.
The dream I had this morning, the one I can't remember, hung over me like a cloud all today. I really wish I could remember it.