Sinking

I must really despise Tennessee. Every time I come here to visit my family, I end up depressed. Thankfully, today is the last day of our visit. I can't wait to get back to our new home in Virginia.

I love my family and enjoy seeing intimate friends, but every time I come out here, I realize just how much farther I've grown from the people I know. And then I realize that I was never "here" to begin with. All my efforts in high school and college were strategically calculated to eventually take me far away from this place--or at least to encourage others to get out. A weak soul could die in a place like this, and often does. There's little here but abandoned dreams.

I feel so detached, like my real self is out hovering over a lake somewhere while my body sits dumb and empty like a dry husk. What can I say about myself? That the thought of becoming a mother in the next two months scares the hell out of me? That I feel alone in every thought and emotion? That the sight of my husband scarfing a half-dozen fun-sized Kit Kat bars in one sitting sickens and angers me? In the time I've gained 20 pounds, he's gained 30. I want to scream and tear my hair out, fall to the floor and implore him to not take another bite.

I laid in bed early this morning and wept--wept because I felt trapped between my husband and my unborn son. One drains me physically while the other takes from me emotionally, and no pause button exists for me on the remote control of life. So I just sink like a stone in a silent ocean, as far as I can get into the enclosed, secret places of my being, and shut myself in. I just want to go back to Virginia and absorb my mind in making jewelry again, finding comfort in the work of my hands and the brilliant colors of those small, glass beads.

I recently sold three pieces, so I have money again for new materials--a particularly bright spot in the week for me.