disappointment

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I did not draw this chart, but I certainly relate to it.

I have been feeling like my life has been a string of disappointments for too many years. Even most of the really good things have a shit lining.

I try to be grateful. I do. And I am. And I am still deeply disappointed in myself, my life, my abilities to create the self and life I want. I feel that I am the disappointment. And manufacturing gratefulness feels fake and I feel like shit that I can’t be more fucking grateful. Not productive.

Sometimes I’m glad my mom is dead as she can’t see what a fucking mess I am without her. This is ironic because if she were not dead I’d feel far less unanchored in the world and would probably be way less of a mess. Maybe not. But she was such a help, such a source of love, albeit complicated. True Unconditional Love. I don’t feel that kind of love from anyone in my life anymore, not to that level. Maybe I never will. I obviously hope I’ll find a partner who will love me unconditionally but that will never be the same as the bond one has with their parent.

I’m disappointed in my love life, or more accurately my lack of love life. I am   extremely grateful  for my much improved, now existent sex life. But I want more than just sex. I’m disappointed that I’m not enough for a man to love, not just fuck. (But the fucking is good, I will take what I can get in this case! )I’m disappointed in my lack of friends in the city I moved to 4 years ago. I’m disappointed in my lack of a thriving work practice and my sad inability to make a sufficient amount of money.

I had, for a brief moment, something truly magical to look forward to in my life! I was so  excited about the  upcoming opportunity. It was something I’ve been dreaming of doing for close to 10 years. An amazing women’s retreat and film project with an amazing artist in an amazing place. And it was going to happen! I paid the money. I booked the ticket, which I found for a very good price.  And despite the popularity and the usual waiting list of 100’s of people wanting to be part of this amazing thing, it has been cancelled. Because NO ONE signed up. NO ONE but me. NO. ONE!

I’m gutted. I can’t help but think I’ve cursed it. Or I’m cursed. Which I know is insane and not true. But… fuck. Can everyone in the world feel how lonely and desperate I am for an adventure and connection that they were all put off? Should I stop having any hopes or dreams because they all fucking end in tears and futility?

I need to learn to never expect anything. Not anything good. Maybe I’ll be surprised sometimes. I love happy surprises. I don’t love surprises that make my heart drop through my feet and send waves of nausea through my bones. I just don’t know how many more gut wrenching disappointments I can handle. Have I ever handled any? I feel like they are all weighing me down bit by bit, like billions of needles, so, tiny and weightless but the accumulation is cripplingly heavy and stabs me if I move wrong.

I’m going to go to my destination. I have a few friends there. It’s my favorite place I’ve been yet on earth. I’ll have a lovely time. I know this. But this dream that I had seeming  to come true but dying instead is just a lot to take. How to shake it off? Why am I so crazy that I think it’s somehow my fault? Will anything my heart desires so strongly ever come to me? Oozing sorrow and neediness is super embarrassing.

I need to be more zen. Or master the fake it til you make it game. Or just accept that life is disappointment. At least I’m getting fucked really well now and then.

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