You probably think this post is about you

I’m feeling quite fed up today.  With everything.  But I’ll limit my rambling to the heart of the matter. That old chestnut “it’s not you, it’s me”.

Absolute bullshit nine times out of ten.

They say this to “avoid hurting your feelings” but it hurts far worse when you discover that they’ve found love right after they told you that they “aren’t open to a relationship right now”.  This has happened so many times to me. Once the new girlfriend became the wife mere months after the guy dumped me. She looked alarmingly like me, but over a decade younger. That was rough.

But I’m not stupid.  It’s obvious that I am the problem.  I’m not worth wanting anything remotely like a relationship with. If someone could just say “I don’t want a relationship with you” it would hurt less, not more. If someone could tell me what’s wrong with me maybe I could fix it. But it’s probably just unfixable. I’m wrong.  I’m not worthy.

So I’m not going to be surprised if my now ex is going to find the love of his life, like,  yesterday. Because that’s how it seems to go again and again.

I’m not perfect but I don’t think I’m completely awful and unlovable. I’m not terrible looking. I’m not horribly out of shape. I try to be loving, affectionate, thoughtful.  Yet. I’m just never deemed good enough for a relationship to become long term. I don’t think I can continue to try. It’s insane to think that this groundhog’s day story will change.  Maybe I’m just not deserving of a loving partner. Sure doesn’t look like it.

Maybe tomorrow I will feel less like trash.  Maybe lack of sleep is contributing to my hopeless outlook. The little bit of sleep I get is filled with weird nightmares. I woke up today  feeling at the edge of endless weeping but I had to go to work so I just made coffee and pushed my feelings down enough to leave the house. But it’s just plain as day. I’m not the kind of woman any man will ever love or cherish. My own dad thought me utterly worthless. Looks like he was probably right. He was an actual fucking genius, so…

I guess I’ll just take up knitting and wait for my uterus to finish dying.

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.

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.

Chop wood, carry water

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(Not my image)

I’m not feeling too great. I’m failing at every aspect of my tiny life. My relationship just failed. Work is not going as well as I need it to, both to be financially stable and as busy as I want to be. I have no social life. If I read another post about how hard it is to handy success I will scream. I’m pretty sure it beats handling failure after failure, hands down.

I managed to do my laundry, which requires leaving my house and walking the 8 blocks to the laundromat. I even managed to put my clothes away, albeit shoved haphazardly into already messy drawers. It’s better than the heap on the floor I almost settled for. I also managed to eat something despite having no appetite. Maybe I’ll lose the damn perimenopause pounds that have crept  back onto  my ass, making my clothes feel like sausage. I even managed to shower!

I guess I should feel good about managing these things. I could have failed to do them. But it feels embarrassing to call that success. It’s just managing the tiny tasks that keep life from piling up. To just keep getting by.

I wish that getting by was enough for me. I wish I felt like anything about me actually mattered, even in a small way. I need to keep going and without any real markers of progress it’s harder every day.

But at least I’ve got clean underwear now. It’s a start.

breaking up is…

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(not my image)

They say breaking up is hard to do, but it seems like it’s easier to do than staying together.

My relationship is over. Quite unceremoniously. Done. Great.

I’m crushed, crushed flat. I feel too tired to be sad. Too tired to feel.

Relationships take work but you can’t do it alone. If one person isn’t interested in working on it, it’s over. Now I am back to being alone and working on my self, my life, my career. With no partner, with no love and support to carry me through when I feel challenged, hopeless. Ok. Same old, same old.

I can do this. But fuck, I want love. I want a life with someone. I want someone to dream with, hope with, weather the storms of life with. But for now I’m on my own, in the rain, dreading the coming spring when all the lovey couples cavorting in the sunshine together.

I can’t stomach the thought of entering the dating pool again. Drowning seems preferable. Time will tell. I’m guessing that my spinsterhag fate might just be what it is. If by my advanced age I’m still alone I should probably just give up. Take up knitting.

If only I could get a cat!

Hope blooms

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Ok.  All hope isn’t lost.

Elskan mín & I have reconnected. Things are moving forward.  Maybe spring will thaw us out of winters gloom soon, but my hearts been warmed and I feel I can carry on again.

Of course things aren’t perfect. I have things to work on. He does as well.  We both have to continue to learn to communicate with each other in the most healthy way.  But I’m glad I didn’t just blow up.  Or completely shut down.  I wasn’t feeling happy but I was able to wait, albeit impatiently.  Maybe I’m learning.

Relationships are as challenging as they are rewarding. As a natural hermit I have to really feel a good connection with someone to even want to bother. He’s worth that bother. And I’m willing  to take the bullshit that invariably comes with the blessings. Nothing is perfect. I’m sure that I’m a total pain in the ass sometimes. I was more than half convinced that he’d decided to say fuck off.  But when we saw each other, hugged each other, I could feel our mutual relief. Mutual gratitude. It’s the best feeling to be taken into the arms of someone who was recently furious with you. Being loved in the face of your imperfections is so powerful.

And a little bit of make up sex never hurts either!

space

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Space. Elskan min needs space. Great.

We had a very stupid fight, and now I’ve been given “space”.

A vast void of space.

I’m not lacking in space. I’ve got way too much space, in fact. Space I’d love to build a life and a love with.

But I’ve fucked it all up. Again.

Apparently I’m aloof to his problems. And I “nitpick”, which I know I can do, I try very hard to not do so, and still I have destroyed this relationship despite my efforts.

I’m not aloof to his problems, though. And I felt like I did many kind and thoughtful things to try to help him feel better when he was stressed. Again, clearly a massive failure on my part.

And I just feel so stupid. Stupid for thinking I was capable. Lovable.

Maybe I need to accept that I’m clearly shit at relationships. At 46 and single yet again it would appear that is true.

I don’t think I can handle dating again.

I needed to write and now I just don’t know what to say. What do I have to say about anything? I feel mute. Numb.

 

I’d love to find that some space helps, and maybe it will. Time will tell. Great, I love waiting around. I’ve certainly got lots of practice.

But right now any hope I had feels dead. And embarrassing.

Spinsterhag fails again.