So lost

I’m having a hard time.  It’s the anniversary time of my mother dying, which is adding to my sadness.  Getting dumped didn’t help, I’m still sad about that.  I miss him. I still miss my mom, so many years later. I’m a person full of holes.  My life is feeling like one big hole right now.  I wish I could just disappear into it.

I need to build a life for myself.  It seems impossible.  I’ve been living in Portland for almost 5 years and I don’t have a close friend here. Work is still not thriving. I’m failing at the most basic things. I’m too old to be this bad at the basics of life.

I don’t know how to make friends. And I’m so full of shame about how lame my life is to even feel like I can reach out, not that there’s anyone to reach to.

People my age are mostly married or seriously partnered, busy, busy busy with work and friends and family and their wonderful lives. Meanwhile I’m losing my mind to the emptiness that is my life.

I’m pretty introverted.  I don’t need lots of friends.  But I need some.  I’ve got some great ones but they’re all far away. I can’t stand doing “fun” things alone anymore. I feel like a pariah being alone. So I’m just hiding in my house like a weird hermit.  Which I need to do but when it’s all the time I start to lose it. And I’m losing it.

Did I ever have it, though? I’m not sure. I’m trying to be grateful for what I do have. But I’m still overwhelmed by sadness. By aloneness. By emptiness.

I guess it’s pretty fucking zen though.

One day at a time

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I’m just barely getting by.  Everyone on social media seems to be living each day to the fullest. My days are so empty I might lose my mind. And the nights are worse.

I’m trying to just keep going. Going where I have no idea.  I don’t know what I can hope for. Hoping for love and someone to build a life with seems out of reach.

I should have seen the writing on the wall when he put new songs online titled “bail out” tongues tied tight” and “ghosting”.  How fucking stupid am I?  Obviously, very.

I’m trying to find ways to create more work for myself. I can’t figure out how to make friends but maybe if I can make more money I can visit my far away friends more frequently. Even before my relationship collapsed I was feeling like I needed to get my life more together.  But I felt like it was possible, manageable.  I had some support and affection.  The warm light of love makes impossible things seem possibly possible. Now I just try to get through each tiny day without collapsing under my endless sorrow.

If my life has a theme it’s probably impermanence.  Nothing ever lasts. I’ve started over more times than I can count. I’ve got so many holes in my heart, my life, that can never be filled again. Maybe it’s my karma to withstand loss after loss and I’ll never get to have anything in my life that helps me feel whole. Maybe I should stop hoping for any bit of solace, for any ray of light.

If only I could have a cat. I’m so good with cats. Cats almost always love me. It’s people that I am not great with.

You know it’s bad when you’re only dream is to be a cat lady!

Just disappear

I’m trying to keep from drowning in sorrow. I don’t know if I’m succeeding. Doesn’t feel like it.

I felt like I was seen, valued and loved.  But I was wrong.  I was thrown out with ease. And now I feel so alone. Invisible.

I feel compelled to keep writing. But what do I have to say?  What do I have to offer? Does anyone want to know my inner thoughts?

I want my writing to give me some perspective, some healing. Instead it just feels as futile as everything else in my life.

I might just disappear completely. But if no ones looking does it even matter?

3 things…

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(My photo of some street art stickers)

I am feeling sad. I am feeling empty. I am feeling hopeless.

I’m going to write about 3 things that I’m grateful for.  I have no idea if it will actually help me feel any better, when people tell me to “count my blessings” I just count to three in my mind to keep from punching them in the throat.  But no one told me to do this.  It’s an experiment.   If you think it’s really stupid, you can just go read any number of other posts, or other blogs for that matter.  I am not guaranteeing it’ll be entertaining in any way.

# 1

my friends.

I might be very alone & lonely in Portland but I’ve got a handful of very wonderful friends. They might be living far away but I talk on the phone & video chat with them.  Sometimes I laugh my ass off. Sometimes I’m wicked depressed and a friend is there to listen and remind me that I’ll be ok. That I am loved.  Sometimes I’m the one who listens, reminds them they’ll be ok, that they are loved, try to make them laugh or be there when they cry.

# 2

my apartment

I lucked out at a very terrible time shortly after moving to Portland and found a tiny little dollhouse of an attic apartment. I can afford it, sometimes barely, and it’s all mine, no roommates.  It’s ridiculously small but cozy and cute. It’s in a great neighborhood.

# 3

work I love

My work situation has its issues but I have great clients and I love what I do.  I need more clients but 2 years ago I was scrambling and doing all kinds of random jobs and had a debilitating injury from one of those jobs that’s only now mostly healed. It was brutal and I thought it would never get better. But it has, even if I have a long way to go.  I’m so grateful to be able to do work I love.

 

I have come really far from where I was 2 or 3 years ago. But when I look at where that is it’s not easy to feel good about it, to not be ashamed that this is an accomplishment. I’m getting by instead of just barely scraping by.  But I can say I pulled myself up after having the rug pulled out from under me in a soul crushing way. I was frighteningly and deeply depressed, beyond my baseline level of depressed,  for a over a year and I am still alive.

Can you be grateful and dissatisfied at the same time?

Apparently so.

 

69 followers!

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Oh the irony!  I’ve just reached 69 followers!

I’m going to try to keep writing. Apparently there are at least 69 people who find it worthwhile.

I’ve gotten a request for more posts about my dying uterus.  Perfect. That will likely last another 8ish years!

My friend was saying that whenever I talk about my dying uterus she just pictured a really old man, hobbling along with a cane. I personally picture Maggie Smith circa Downton Abbey, basically same  but with a better outfit!

i do love a good outfit!

Happy 69.

And thank you to all my followers and readers. Just today there are people in the US, India and Sweden!  I don’t know you but I love you.

Emptiness

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I feel compelled to write.  I’m up at 4 am. But I don’t know what to say. I’m empty.

It’s not that beautiful Buddhist emptiness, it’s just a complete lack of hope.

I want to find something funny to say, something clever or enlightening.  I have nothing…

Where does inspiration come from? Where does Hope get generated?  Whatever part of the mind or body that might be, mine is clearly broken. Or absent. Down the proverbial drain. I wonder where it goes.

Since I was a child I had a recurring sensation of just wanting to disappear. It feels like my wish is finally coming to fruition. I’ve gotten so small, so empty that I think I might just evaporate.

I’m not sure if I should bother to continue writing this blog. It is just a documentation of all my sad little dreams being crushed, a diary of my pathetic failures. Sometimes writing will unfurl something in me, give me something to hold onto, or a window to find a different perspective. Unfortunately when I need that the most there’s nothing. A void.

I should seek solace in this emptiness. Maybe it’ll transform into some state of understanding. Maybe I should finally just give up hoping to have anything, give up desiring anything at all. That’s what Buddhism says the solution is. Maybe they’re right.  Because most of my desires have only caused me pain. Disappointment.

Opening yourself up isn’t easy. How many times can I handle doing it only to be seen and discarded? I don’t think I can do it again.

I’m not going to write about being heartbroken anymore because it’s just really boring.  If it had a catchy beat maybe it’d be a hit.

If I find something actually interesting to write about then I’ll be back. But for now I’m gonna disappear. I’m already gone.

Beautiful hag

 

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(Bernadette Peters in “Into the Woods”

I discovered the “search terms” today and saw that someone had searched “hot beautiful hag”!

I’m equal parts flattered and confused.  But I had a genuine laugh which I needed so thanks to whoever it was. It made my day, at least for moment.

I’m trying to keep my confidence in the face of feeling discarded like trash. I’m trying to feel lovable despite not being loved anymore. It’s not easy but I’m trying.

I can’t  help but wish that I was better, worth working things out with, worthy of being loved. It’s not easy to know what to do when love is thrown away, where does it go? Was it even real? Why wasn’t it good enough?  I can apply logic, I can slap on platitudes but the question gnaws at me.

I’m doing better than I have in the past, not just crying and sinking into a frightening depression. But I’m feeling extremely defeated. I’m so uninterested in trying to meet someone else but I feel like the older I get the less likely I will stand a chance. Because I’m old and my neck is sliding into my chin. Because when people call me “adorable” I know it’s just code for short and not beautiful.  Maybe I’m beautiful for a hag, as that surprising search suggests. Maybe even if I were beautiful I’d still be alone, because I’m not good enough anyway.

I do know that I gave this relationship everything I could. Im sure I could have done better but I really tried. I always tried to show my love and affection. I tried to be thoughtful.  And I failed anyway. Maybe I’ll do better next time.  If there is a next time.

For now I’ll just try to feel like some random stranger referring to me as a “hot, beautiful hag” is a good sign.