Another sick day and another day of feeling guilty for not being able to go to work. Why do I feel so guilty about taking a sick day? I think there's always that part of me that thinks I should be able to just suck it up. Today's just not a good day in general. I feel down on myself and I'm glad I have a therapy appointment tomorrow. There is so much I think I need to straighten out in this thick skull of mine. I don't know. I hate writing about this crap over and over and over again. My poor friends always having to listen or read my nonsense.
I just finished reading Sense and Sensibility and I can't help but think of Elinor in these moments. There was a time when I used to identify with her so much. For so long she carried so much pain in her heart and yet maintained this masked elegance. She was the protector of her sister Margaret and tried to shield her from her own emotional outbursts and the public opinion that may come her way. Elinor didn't want to burden anyone with her heartaches and disappointments preferring to take the dagger to her heart in silence and secrecy. I admired that about her and I identified with that. My pain was mine and not anyone else's burden. My relationship with Greg was something not to be discussed. The things done in the privacy of his bedroom were my hidden secrets. Now they are all out in the open. I've allowed myself to be consumed by my pain and self disappointment.
Somewhere over the course of the past year and a half, I switched and became the Marianne archetype. I've spent hours, upon hours crying in self-pity and wallowing in my pain. Many more hours were spent in bed sleeping it all away or not eating or not taking care of myself. Since when did all that become okay to me? I get that maybe Elinor's way wasn't the healthiest way of dealing with her pain but neither was Marianne's. At least Elinor's way was far more respectable. Bleh, what happened to my strength and endurance?
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