Whine

I'm sick. Whine. Honestly, normally when I'm sick I just push through, get over it make do, or rest until I'm functional again, get back up and get to work. Most people won't hear about it or notice, and those that do hear about it are far enough away that it's not like I'm putting pressure on them to fix it for me. I always feel like I'm entirely pathetic and needy, but those people usually tell me that I was neither, just quieter than usual. Well this time, I'm speaking up. Whine. In one of my classes we learned about something called projective identification, where people tend to pin whatever they are feeling onto the people around them. Quiet people particularly end up getting pinned with whatever everyone else is feeling, because they are more of a blank slate than someone who is particularly vocal. Well I certainly wouldn't want to mislead any of you into believing that I am feeling whatever it is you are trying to suppress, so I'm speaking up. Whine. I don't feel good. And when I don't feel good I don't want to hear about your children, your issues, your perfect whatever, your spouse, your job, or whatever else it is in your life that seems like such a trial. Seriously, do you know how much it sucks for a single girl to listen to your complaints about your children? Has anyone ever pointed out to you a "first world problem"? Whine. It must be so sad for you when you don't feel good and your husband has to go to work instead of taking care of you. Read sarcasm. News flash. I got dizzy when I went to get myself a bowl of cereal, I ran out of breath when I tried to get dressed, and I couldn't figure out how to answer my own phone this morning because my head was so fuzzy from being awake most of the night in a fever. Whine. Nobody is going to show up and take care of me, not before, after, or during work. And no, I don't have to worry about taking care of the kids while I don't feel good. Do you realize what a small consolation prize that is? The only way anyone is even going to know I was sick is from me posting it on the blog. Whine. And I hate that I feel good enough to feel guilty about laying around while I'm laying down, but if I sit up or try to move, it takes an extra 15 minutes to catch my breath. Which means I can probably manage to make my own ramen for lunch, but then I will have to take a nap to recover from stirring it and it will be cold by the time I get to eat it. Whine. Also, some girl from school keeps texting me for help with some paper and to ask if I'll make another kid a birthday cake for class. I'm not sure why she thinks I have anything in life together enough to do either of those things, but I wish someone would make her stop. Whine. Reality is, this is a hard semester, I'm barely hanging on, and I have considered dropping out on a nearly weekly basis. I've talked to professors about it, but I wasn't planning on dumping it on others because frankly, it's not your problem, it's mine. Whine. There that projection. People often believe that if a person doesn't talk about their problems, they must not have any. Then again, we've all had that friend that burns us out with their drama. Someone on your Facebook is doing it right now. They are posting sad song lyrics and rants about how their dog died and no one loves them and how awful their situation is with accusatory overtones of demand. I don't want to be that person. Whine. But today I'm sick, and I consider that my pass to whine for a while longer. Except I have to go to class, and I'm not sure how that's going to work. If I take enough medication to bring the fever down and stop coughing, I'm pretty sure I can't legally drive. Then again, without meds, I'm dizzy and out of breath. Whine. Then I have to finish a midterm and work on some papers. Whine. Seriously, why couldn't I have gotten sick 2 days from now, when I have a long weekend clear of obligations and plans? whine. Maybe its best if I close this down now. Check back tomorrow. Maybe I'll feel like being nicer.


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