I don't want this to be one of those "I've had a rough week" posts. Yeah, the point in this blog is to share what's going on with me, but how many times can I say "I've had a rough week" before I feel like I'm whining? Besides, at this point, I know it's just a rough week, not a rough month or year or life and I'll be fine in the end. Because I always am.
So this week, yeah, I'm not doing as much. I've been kind of laying low. It's a mixture of doubting myself (again), questioning what the hell I'm doing and being tired and not eating enough. I've never been a stress eater, I've always been a stress under-eater. I had a fall-out with a friend which I completely still don't understand, and one of my other friends hurt himself and it's really bothering me. I mean, this is someone I've known perhaps a little over a year and I don't hang out with regularly, but him being hurt is fucking with me. I feel bad, but at the same time I can't mommy-at everyone. I had a friend who lived in my building years ago back in Chicago. He was a recovering drug addict, but he was much younger than me and I treated him like a hurt puppy. He was appreciative because he lived far away from his family, but even now if I don't hear from him for a while I text him to make sure he's okay. But perhaps that's just being a caring friend, I don't know. He checked up on me when we had all of these earthquakes last month.
Sometimes I feel excluded from things because people assume I'm busy or have a full life because of the husband and kids. When Bry gets home from work, he usually takes over. Not because I ask him to, but because he wants to. He's like "I haven't seen my girls all day, I'm going to get them ready for bed". So I give him his time to help them brush their teeth, read them a story, blah blah blah. I'm bored a lot, you guys. After 5, 6 o'clock at night, I'm bored. As shit. I cook dinner, then go in the room to call my aunt. We talk for like an hour. Not every day, perhaps once or twice a week. We usually talk about everything and nothing and then talk over one another and laugh about it. She gives me advice, a lot, because I ask for it.
And yeah, I've been talking to my mom again and that's strange, as I mentioned before. We've been estranged for over a year. I'm not getting into specifics, but if you know me, you know the deal. I'm a very sensitive person, perhaps too sensitive for Hollywood, truly. I'm not depressed, because trust me, I've been down that road. I have hope and aspirations and all that good mucky muck. I have a show next week that I'm very excited for. I think really I just need a therapist. I need to talk to someone who I can vent to that's not Bry, who I guess tries to understand, but truly doesn't. He doesn't understand why I put so much pressure on myself and feel like I should be doing more. He doesn't understand the anxiety and the fear of driving. He drives all over L.A. for his work and describes the driving as "annoying" instead of "scary".
So yeah, I guess in order to survive this industry and being a mom and having a shitty upbringing, I guess I have to see a therapist or whatever. I picture some old white dude with glasses asking me "and how did that make you feel?" and over time telling me "I've had enough of your whining! I'll refund your money if you just get the hell outta here and never come back!" Haha! That's both hilarious and sad at the same time!