Is It Monday Yet?

The way Friday started out, I should have taken that as an indicator the weekend probably wouldn't go much better. I am ready to just skip over the rest of the weekend and start over with Monday. I was reading a blog today (by now, it was yesterday) about taking "mommy time". Forget the mommy time, I am in need of some serious "me time". Some time to just escape from reality, even if it is just for a few hours. A few hours where I don't have to think about anything what so ever. I don't want to find myself, I want to lose myself for a few hours or even a few days would be nice. I am in no way mocking the blog, it was a very good post and I enjoyed reading it. I just found it funny, that later in the day I would be thinking the same thing. The only difference is, I don't want to think about who I am or what I want. I don't want to think at all.

I guess that's why I am up drinking a glass of wine and blogging at 3 o'clock in the morning. According to Dr. Oz, I should be drinking a glass a warm milk when I can't sleep. But, I still prefer a nice glass of wine and my laptop to relax me. I can't do milk period, especially warm milk at that. At least blogging and a glass of wine relaxes me a little bit. I guess it makes me feel better knowing that there are other bloggers out there that understand where I am coming from and release their tensions in the same way.

Writing was always therapeutic for me in a way. When I was a teenager, I used to have a book of poems that I would write in when I felt down or frustrated. Unfortunately, my mother found my book and threw it away, because she felt the poems were too dark. Some of them may have been dark, but I don't think she quite understood them or why I would write them or even what it would do for me to write. I stopped writing poetry after that, because I was afraid she would find them and get angry with me for writing them and throw them away again. Instead I would just think about the words in my head, but it wasn't the same as putting them down on paper. Putting them down on paper was like releasing the feelings inside of me. I couldn't write poems about the flowers and the trees, they didn't come to me when I was happy. I wrote poetry when I was sad, that was how I expressed myself and she didn't understand it. I don't blame her completely. Being a parent now, I can understand how finding dark poetry by your daughter could possibly be a little disturbing. But, sometimes I do think about what if I hadn't stopped writing, maybe I could have done something with it. It took years until I discovered blogging and I started writing again.

From time to time, I think about writing a book. I have wanted to write a book, but just didn't have the time to devote to writing as much as I would like sometimes. I started writing last summer, then deleted everything I wrote because, I felt that I should be focusing my time on other things. Maybe someday I will sit down and start writing again. When I sit down and begin writing, I can feel my frustrations begin to disappear with every word and things begin to be put in perspective for me. Until that day I am ready to commit myself to writing something serious, I will be blogging as my therapy, as for it is much more affordable than paying a therapist.

Thank you for listening.