07.08.22

I feel a bit sad. Just, everything piling up inside and it has nowhere to go. I want to sleep for a thousand years.  

I've had a lovely time seeing mum and Rick for a belated birthday get together. I love to see them, and I love them both so very much. But I always seem to come away feeling, well, like this. And it isn't really sadness. Maybe, confusion? I'm not sure I can put it into words. There's a lot going on there. I want to stay with them forever and yet I feel tired by them and look forward to being in my own space once again. Which then makes me feel tremendous guilt.

I also feel sad and deflated by the idea of starting another week at a place I don't want to be. I know I've bided my time at lots of jobs in the past which I hope will give me the strength to keep going. A little over a month shouldn't feel like an eternity but I really don't like the thought at all.

I usually feel like this when Sunday rolls around. The start of the working week is never a fun realisation. I'm sure once it begins it won't be as bad as I think.

Baby is moving about lots this evening, which is lovely. He's keeping me company, I don't feel as though I'm doing it alone. He's giving me a reason.