Today started well, but has ended up badly. I slept in, which felt lovely, had coffee and read on the deck, and then worked for 2 and ½ hours on clearing and cleaning up the west side of the house. There is so much debris there – dried leaves and grass growing in the cracks. The dirt part between the flagstone squares and the house has overgrown the squares so that they appear much smaller than they really are. I did well – I cut back all the big tree-bushes with the intention of asking S to dig them all the way out. I thought of maybe getting some small hosta-type plants for that side. I don’t think the tree-bushes are good for the foundation. Money as a worry again – it crops up often, I’ve noticed since my last entry when I figured out what it was.

This is interesting. I finally snapped at S when got home today about always shooting down my ideas. I picked the absolutely worst example and least meaningful moment and I am definitely being punished for it. I am getting the silent treatment – or worse, I’m being casually ignored. I should have picked a better time to tell him. But I was thinking – how self-centered is this – that I should be congratulated for telling him when something he does hurts me. I need to remember it’s probably only me that is aware of and would think to congratulate me for not suppressing dislike. That’s hardly anyone else’s goal. But, his reaction is extreme. What struck me is that I remember having this same issue with AJ. That leads me to two options – either I can’t handle my ideas being rejected, or men just feel free in general to do that. The thing is – I wouldn’t even mind the idea being rejected if it were done in a slightly more thoughtful (and by that I mean full of thought, not sensitive) way. E.g. I see what you mean…what if we did this? Or do you think this might happen? Instead of “No.” and naturally I can’t think of any other examples for S, which he wanted, stating that the burning barrel example “just isn’t going to work” for him. I left the house to go for a drive (this is after he left the bedroom saying that he didn’t have anything else to say, did I? Naturally not.). I thought that I would like for my outsides to match my insides more often. Meaning, I would like for my aspect to be more genuinely a reflection of my thoughts than a mask for the sake of other people. I know women do this often; I know this is how we are trained to interact with people. I hate it. I realize that you can’t always voice your feelings, but more than I do, would be a good goal. I was thinking that it would be nice if my journal didn’t have to be so secret from those near and dear to me. Something to work on.

I just finished rereading “Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight.” I wish there were more pictures in the book of Bobo’s family. I’m a few chapters into Margaret Atwood’s new novel, “Oryx and Crake.” So far it’s very good. Most of her writing is.

Saturdays are my weigh-in days. I didn’t lose any weight this week. I did, however, lose inches. I looked at the cookies that S bought for me this morning – 80 calories each. And I had 3 last night. So, I’m recommitting today. I need something to focus my frustrations on, and eating within calories might as well be it. For short bursts, I really miss smoking and drinking – but not in any kind of “I’m going to drink or smoke right now” kind of way – just in a global, general sense.

My emotions are so extreme – my state of mind and heart fluctuate pretty drastically – but I’m not ever obliviously happy or blindly sad so I don’t feel that the extremes are dangerous. But they are tiring. And now, I’m being punished by S and what could be a fun Saturday night isn’t. He works tomorrow too. And I don’t really even know what would make me feel better.

We got together for coffee on Friday morning – a few PCs. It was fun, but as usual, I had been looking forward to it too much. Only a few people showed up, but they were people I enjoy. I can hardly expect work friends to be my social life too.

I had this thought today – I will just grit my teeth and slog through if there is no point to my life. People have been doing that since time immemorial. I’m no different. And by no point, I don’t mean that there is nothing enjoyable or nothing that I don’t find precious. What I mean is no driving passion beyond just living my life. I don’t necessarily enjoy feeling “pointless”, but I am absolutely not going to look for fillers. No way. I will be pointless if necessary, but I won’t be extraneous. The unexamined life…ignorance might well be bliss.