several nights now, i've lied in bed craving escape, craving the wooliness of benzodiazapines or chemical fuzziness of anything else because i'm unhappy with the colour of the world. there's something off, just ever so slightly, that makes me wish for vaseline on the camera lens. i'm not sure what it is, but there it is: a new flavour of unhappiness. i hesitate before i even write that last word because it's not as serious as all that: unhappiness has a deep portentous sound, and having been there before i can honestly say i'm not there now - this is different, lighter and temporary feeling and very very odd.
i'm fine during the day. my mom's two week visit is drawing to a close and aside from a heated argument at its very beginning it's gone well. exhausting, but well - we've gone in and out of home improvement stores, IKEA, other home improvement stores, IKEA again, still more home improvement stores, tile shops, IKEA, plumbing supplies, and IKEA. we put together a whole IKEA kitchen by ourselves, and washed and re-washed freshly laid, and then again, freshly grouted tiles. we've bought paint, carried boxes, organized the removal of old appliances, and shopped for new ones. each evening we come home, sit on the couch and sigh with exhaustion. then each night i go to bed and find myself dissatisfied with the colour of the world i'm in.
wine doesn't seem to help nor do i want it. i am not drawn to it, and so i pass for the most part. and each night i am unhappy because...well, why? i can't quite pinpoint it, but when i look at the evidence (and i should look at the evidence, being a fan of evidence-based decision-making in politics at least), i think it could be something simple. it could be something as simple as leaving my hidden introverted half utterly starved of late. a guest with whom i spend all day, family dropping in, babysitting children, weekends in the mountains with family, more family dropping in... the constant and relentless pressure, on top of a summer that felt particularly overwhelming socially for some reason, is bound to have some effect, isn't it? and the effect it seems to be having is making me dislike the colour of the world late at night, and looking for some chemical way to change it back to normal.
right now, i feel weighed down by guilt for not wanting to spend more time with the kids, for not wanting to spend more time with anyone, for not wanting little people to jump on my couch or touch my stuff, for not inviting the family over more often, for not being a perfect hostess, for not keeping the bathroom shiny for my guest, for not wanting to chat in the morning at all but to be left alone to read the news. i feel like all i want is to be alone. i feel too tired of being a daughter to be a good daughter. i feel too tired of being a wife to be a good wife. i feel too tired of being a human being who owes other human beings parts of herself to be a good human being. if i'm alone, i don't owe anybody anything.