I don’t know if Lion didn’t “feel sexy” last night because his tummy was acting up or if he was worried about me. He thinks he doesn’t make me happy. He thinks everything is his fault. He tends to do that. He turns everything around to make it be about him and what he did or didn’t do. To quote our favorite sitcom, “It’s not about you, Wendy!” As I told him, it’s possible I’m just not a happy person. Does that mean I’m never happy? Not at all. I can have a good time. It’s just that, over the years, I’ve lost interest in things that I used to care about. If a barrier is put between me and an enjoyable activity, I won’t go around it. I just give up.
My inertia comes from this, I guess. I have to prod myself to do things. Maybe I need Lion’s shock collar to zap me into action. It’s not Lion’s fault. I’ve always had this problem. I think it’s gotten worse as I’ve gotten older. Maybe I should find a counselor to give me coping mechanisms. Any time I mention things to a doctor, they just wave it away. “Everyone feels that way.” Thank you. That’s very helpful. And this is why mental health in this country is such a problem.
Anyway, it’s not like this is something that just popped up. I’ve felt it for a long, long time. I just didn’t want Lion to think it was his fault, like he does now. I won’t say it’s not a big deal because that’s like the doctors waving it away. It can be a big deal from time to time. I’ve learned to plod along anyway. The comment I got the other day, about the wife who only eats because she has to, struck a nerve. People don’t understand things like that. “How can you not be happy?” Oh, trust me. It’s easy. The hard part is being happy.
Enough about this. I’m determined to play with Lion tonight. He may not want to, but too bad. If I can work to be happy, he can work to feel sexy.