Tears on my pillow...

Sometimes a good cry is exactly what you need to get rid of those cobwebs that have started clogging up space in your head. That's exactly what happened to me yesterday. I popped in to see my mum after work and ended up in tears over a few things that had been playing on my mind. 

The worst thing about it all is that once I started I couldn't stop. It was like I'd opened the flood gates and forgot to throw myself a life jacket. 

It's not the first time I've ended up in tears on my mum, but usually once they've dried up, I'm ok and can get on with my life again. Last night was different though. Yes, I stopped crying, but round two wasn't far off when I started texting my sister. Once again the tears were falling only this time I was in my bedroom, alone. 

I got over it eventually and went to bed feeling much better, but 2.30am came and I was still wide awake watching YouTube tutorials on how to look more pretty. Yes...there are actually videos out there telling people how they can look and feel more beautiful than they are. By the time I got to the point where miss beauty queen was telling me to add eye shadow to the gaps inbetween my hair when I put it up in  pony tail, reality hit and I wondered why the hell I was drowning myself in such nonsense. Its no wonder so many girls out there feel so bloody insecure.

Five hours later, the alarm went off and I found myself trying desperately hard to get out of bed and face the day but it was a struggle. I did it though. Showered, dressed, makeup on, hair up (minus the eye shadow fill in) smile on my face and off to work I went. 

Work was good, I actually love my job and the people I work with but by the time I was driving home, I found myself dredding walking through the door and I had an uncontrollable sense of sadness overwhelm me. I shook it off though and got on with doing a Jillian Michaels workout DVD then walked round to my brothers to water his flowers as he's currently on holiday with his family. 

As I walked home I started feeling strange. My stomach started churning and getting knotty and I didn't know how to control it. I could feel the tears building up once more but I refused to start crying in public, and on my own. Instead I got home, made myself a salad for dinner and sat in silence watching George Clarke and his amazing houses, or something of that nature. 

I now find myself writing on here and I'm not really sure why. Its hardly page turning material. Perhaps I'm just taking the advice of a friend to get writing again so at least whatever I am feeling leaves my mind somehow. Afterall, better out than in. I think maybe a bubble bath is needed...and maybe one more cry, but the thought of doing that is making my stomach churn again. 

Catch 22 perhaps?