I woke this morning sad. I had a dream about my ex. More specifically, that he had gotten a woman pregnant and was about to be a father. I was honestly happy in the dream that he got what he wanted but I was sad for the babies we lost, the dream of motherhood that died with them.
I don’t regret not having children, but reminders that I lost mine before I ever had them, are painful.
Sometimes I feel stuck. My life is full of might have beens and used to bes. The weariness resides around my eyes, and the stress shows on the cracks that form inside each knuckle on my hand. Depression sneaks in, like a thief, and until I find something missing, I never even notice it’s been there.
Conflicted and moody, I stumble through my days, doing what needs to be done. I stop before I get to the point where I reach out, as its simply too painful to pretend. I smile at the checkout clerk, one of the few social duties I must perform, and make my way back to my noisy silence.
I try the usual remedies, but the relief they provide is all too fleeting. Occasionally my weakness comes to light and the tears snake out, down my cheeks leaving puddles on my pillow. I often stop them before they get started, for fear letting that pain out means the pain has control. I’ve never chastised another as being weak for crying, but somehow I feel I should be stronger than the weeping.
Looking ahead should give me some respite, things to look forward to are surely there, but my mind and body betray me when I try to view the good. Something will snap me back; a worry, a pain, something to remind me that the future is unknown.
I think this day will forever now be bittersweet.
When I was married, this was my anniversary. We chose it and laughed at how cheesy it was, but we went all out with the Valentine theme. Red roses, pink hearts everywhere.
Later, after my divorce, it was the day I met my best friend in person. The man I now call my love. We didn’t plan it that way, but it was after midnight by the time he got to me.
I like that it has been a day of such love, such happiness, but now I experience it with just a twinge of pain. A thought towards the man who thought we’d celebrate this day for the rest of our lives. Another to the man who made this day less painful by choosing to meet me and later make a life with me.
The day starts early in the dark and I seem to wander from one room to another.
I feel a bit lost; like nothing I do really matters or makes a difference. Depression can creep in when you have too much time to think. When you have too much time to yourself, with your own thoughts.
There are people I try to stay in touch with who can’t be bothered to reply to texts or emails. At some point, I realize I have to let go. If they don’t want to continue the friendship, I can’t force it. I can’t make it happen anymore than I can make someone hire me. Interview after interview go well, but when I follow up, I find they went with someone else.
I miss my family and I think that contributes as well. It’s easy on the days D works for me to sink deeper. I try to keep busy, but I dwell on the negatives and no amount of fresh air, job hunting, baking or anything else seems to change that.
I step back to reevaluate things. I change my approach, backing off the things I feel dependent on. Fake socialization like facebook and twitter make me feel like I’m surrounded by people when I really feel the most alone. That can be dangerous, lulling me into a false sense of security.
I think I need to plan a small something with my tax return. Maybe just a night away where we can talk and eat and be naughty and not deal with the rest of the world for a while.