manage thyself. .

Jesus. Sometimes the rollercoaster of life is absoutely wonderful, and other times, I just don't get it. Why does it have to be so hard? Because nothing great comes easy. . . . right. Got it. hah. Sometimes I feel like I have it under control. My emotions, my thoughts, my direction, and my commitments. Then. . . poof. They feel like they are gone? Am I going nuts? Honestly. I am not staying committed. I am talking about it, but I am cheating myself. Fuck. Why do I do this to myself? argh.
I told myself I was going to take a break from relationships in my life. I was going to focus on myself, and my business. I have not done what I said I was going to to. I am suffering for it. Maybe I am being to hard on myself? Don't know. Maybe I am setting to stiff of goals? That is usually not the case for me. I can crank when I want to. But maybe that was a long time ago. Have I changed? Can I not be the same person I used to be? Do I need to get to know a "new" me? I am 35 this week. I am not the passionate, ambitious 25 year old any more.
I don't even know how I'll spend this birthday. I feel like I don't have really close friends anymore. My closest friends are married and busy. This sounds like a pity party, but it is really just opening up the floodgates of my head.
I am still lonely. Denying it does me no good. I am learning to live with it, but that doesn't make it any easier. I am who I am. I will wake up tomorrow and hit the gym really hard, like I try to do when I am lonely, and push away the emotions. I will go to work and enjoy myself. I really will. . but it seems like at some point in the day, the feeling will come. No one to come home too. . no one to share it all with. I miss my girls so much. They are so close, and yet unreachable on the level I want. I try not to call them, as it upsets Sofia. My babies. . .
Ok. I think I have unloaded enough. It is depressing. ha ha. This is good therapy.

Tomorrow, I will walk like a God. I will tackle the day like Max Mackey. Goals Max. Goals. Focus. Commit! . . . . . .