Bruised.

I know it might seem pretty shitty of me to not write here very often, and then drop in to write about how I’m having a shitty few days and vent my frustrations…but this is my blog, and if I want to be shitty, then I will. That being said, I’ll start from Saturday.

Saturday was my daughters birthday. Amazingly, it wasn’t the first thought on waking, but when the thought crossed my mind shortly after waking up, I felt deflated and tired. I tried my best to keep my mind occupied with any random thing I could think of, but late in the afternoon my dad called to check on me. Sometimes I think my dad imagines me with a pistol in my mouth during the holidays and birthdays. He seems so concerned that I somehow won’t make it through the day. I’m stronger than he gives me credit for.

I can’t believe my sweet baby girl is seven years old. She was only two when I last held her in my arms. I don’t even know the little person that she is becoming. I keep checking my email to see if my mother has sent me a picture yet, but I guess I’ll have to remind her that I live for those tiny glimpses into the lives of my babies.

Saturday night, after spending a bit of time with Edgar, I managed to piss him off with some benign comment while he was getting ready to leave to have lunch with his family. I was feeling a little mopey, and when he said he really didn’t want to go, I said “You’ll have more fun if you go, I’m sure.” Honest to goodness I meant nothing by it other than the simplest meaning. I wanted him to go and have fun with his family and friends. I felt like I had held myself together all day, and I was ready to let go a little.

Well, my comment didn’t go over well, it pissed Edgar off, and he left…angry with me. I was a little dumbstruck, and kept thinking he would come back…but he didn’t. So my fight to hold myself together all day was pretty well wasted, because once I realized that Edgar was pissed off at me and was going to be gone all day (which is all night for me…) I was a total wreck. I got in my bed, cried myself to sleep, and slept, and slept, and slept.

When he came back online around 10 a.m. my time on Sunday, it was very late at night for him, and I was hoping that he had gotten over being mad at me, but he immediately had a snitty comment for me, and instead of me just letting him be mad…I antagonized him, and so he left. Then I had all day to be alone and upset…while he was sleeping. It just seemed like such a petty thing to be angry with me for, and every time I would think about it, I just couldn’t believe we were fighting over something that seemed so simple to me.

Sunday evening for me is Monday morning for Edgar, and  I was waiting for him to come online, thinking that we would only have a few minutes together before he left for work. I didn’t want to spend the time fighting, so I was determined to not be antagonistic, even though I was still really frustrated that he was so angry with me over something that seemed so simple. He didn’t show up in time to talk to me before he usually leaves for work, so then I was even more upset, thinking that I was going to have to sleep another night with the thought that my boyfriend was pissed off at me for telling him to go have fun.

Little did I know, it was a holiday for him, and he was going to be home.

The argument we had Sunday evening was maybe the worst we’ve ever had. This might be the worst part about having a disagreement with someone online. There’s so much meaning lost when you’re simply typing. I felt I couldn’t say anything at all, because Edgar was seeing a double meaning in almost everything I said. For example, I said I didn’t want him to be online with me all the time because I didn’t want him to feel tied to the computer and then get bored with me. So Edgars interpretation of this was that I was feeling tied down and I was feeling bored. Ugh.

We did eventually get through the argument, in spite of our two hard heads and communication difficulties, but by the time we had made up…I felt bruised and fragile. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to cry. I wanted to laugh. Instead, I stayed up until 3 a.m. talking to Edgar, and then I was tired and cranky all day at work today.

Maybe I can blame this fragile feeling on hormones? I just know that I’ve either been crying, been on the edge of crying, or wanted to cry almost every minute for the past three days. Right now, I feel like I’m on the edge of tears, or the edge of sleep, I’m not sure which, but either way, I’d like to do it in my bed, so I’m done with this rant.

I can’t believe it’s almost March.

edit: I woke up this Tuesday morning well-rested and clear-headed, and when I re-read this entry I see one important detail that was omitted. Edgar didn’t know it was my daughters birthday, actually nobody knew. I made a point not to tell anyone…because I didn’t want to talk about it. Had he known it was her birthday, would it have changed anything? Who knows. But, I just wanted to clarify that one small detail.