Monday, January 27, 2014

My Couch

I have been sitting on my couch for 3 days. All day Saturday, all day Sunday, and all night tonight, from the moment I walked in the door from work. 

If you knew me personally (and I realize that you don’t, because I’m anonymous. But if you did…) you would know that I DO NOT sit on the couch. Ever. If I am awake, I am up. I am doing, cleaning, cooking, sewing, something. Constantly. 

In fact, this couch has been a point of contention for The Fiance and I since we moved in together almost 3 years ago. HE sits on the couch. A lot. He sits for hours every night watching TV. It is how he unwinds, unplugs, shuts down for the day. And he wants me to do it with him, to spend that time with him. Sitting on the couch. Watching TV. For hours. Every night.

I just can’t. 

I hate TV. Sure, there are a few shows that I can watch. If the story is really good, not based on real life, or if its got really hot actors/actresses (What? I’m only human). But I can’t usually sit for an entire show. I hop up at every commercial. Or I’ve got some form of work in my lap that I can do from the couch. Just sitting on the couch, zoning out in front of the TV, is NOT relaxing for me. Its torturous. It makes me crazy. Restless. Edgy. 

If I am on the couch, doing nothing, its because I am very sick, recovering from surgery, or something is very wrong. 

If I am sitting on the couch, on my own accord, for the 3rd day in a row, something is very, very wrong.

It is the end of January. There are about 16 inches of snow on the ground, and more is falling. The roads are slushy and crappy, and no one knows how to drive on them. Nothing is pretty and white and pristine – its all grey and dirty and bleak. We are also in the 3rd (or maybe it’s the 4th) week of record breaking cold temperatures. The HIGH today was 3 degrees. The HIGH. The low, with windchill, is -30 degrees. Negative fucking thirty. The infinitely wise weathermen have not told us when this will end, only that it won’t be anytime soon. 

I hate winter. I hate snow. I hate cold. I am a summer person, I need sun, I need to be outside, I need to not have my fucking face frozen off walking to the car. Summer, spring even, doesn’t feel real anymore. A distant memory, and fairy tale. It literally feels like winter will NEVER end. EVER.

I have been on the couch for 3 days. I’m not sick, I’m not injured, but I have been on the couch for 3 days. Not because I’ve wanted to be, I’ve hated every minute of it. I’ve sat here, played games on my phone, tried my damndest to read my book, and felt guilty. Guilty about all of the wasted time. Guilty about all of the things that I have to do, should be doing. Guilty about sitting on the couch. So, why don’t I just get the fuck up, right?

Truthfully; I don’t want to. I don’t want to do all of the things that I have to do. I don’t want to do any of the things that I want to do. I don’t want to do anything. I also don’t want to sit here, waste time, look out the window at the frigid cold and grey snow that seems endless, and accomplish nothing. 

I. Want. Nothing.

It pisses me off, all of it. And normally being pissed off is my greatest fuel. Normally, I can grab hold of pissed off and use it. Where I am at right now though is not normal. The pissed off just goes into the pile of everything else that sucks. 

That pile pretty much sits on my lap as I sit on the couch. It weighs me down. It blocks my view of anything good or happy or hopeful so that all I can see, all I can feel, is EVERYTHING SUCKS. It reminds me that I am neck deep in the nastiest winter of my time, and that there’s no end in sight. It reminds me that I’ve wasted 3 days on this fucking couch and that I’m likely to waste even more, even though I really can’t afford to do this anymore. I’m already behind. It reminds me that I don’t want to sit here anymore, but I have to, the pile is just too heavy.

The Fiance doesn’t get it. “Just get up” he says. “If you don’t want to sit there anymore, just get up. Do something.”

I don’t want to.

“Then don’t. Just sit and relax.” He says. “Nothing wrong with that.”

I don’t want to just sit here. I am not relaxing. I am drowning. I am stuck. 

The Fiance doesn’t get it, but I know some of you will. 

This is why I haven’t written. I felt this coming, and spent all my effort and energy fighting it, until I couldn’t anymore. And now I am on the couch. I’ll shake out of it eventually. I always do.

1 comment:

  1. I am exactly like you. Or atleast i strive to be. My bf is excatly like the fiance. Exactly. Drives me crazy.