Worth

I’m trying to stay positive.  Or at least neutral.  I’m doing ok. But it’s still a challenge to not collapse into depression.  I’m sad.

I feel mad for even having hope for the relationship to last. But I thought he loved me enough to work through the challenges that invariably arise.  But instead he thought so little of me that throwing me away like trash was no big deal. That is what hurts the most. That I was so wrong. That I’m not worth loving.

Friends keep telling me that I’m lovable, that’s it not me. But when it keeps happening it’s got to be me, right?  Either I’m not lovable or I just pick men who don’t love me despite my supposed lovability. Either way I’m alone. Again.

I miss my former elskan mín. But I wonder if I even knew him? Did he feel anything for me?  How did it all just evaporate?  Will I ever find someone to build a loving stable relationship with?  Am I even worth that kind of love?

It’s hard to feel worth love when your own father didn’t love you and told you how much of a stupid worthless piece of shit you were. I hear all that in my head any time I fuck up, which is pretty much all the time.  I’m trying to stay afloat and I’m surprised to find that I’m doing sort of ok but that voice, that despair is just there. It’s unlikely that it will ever disappear. I hope I can prove it wrong, I hope I can have a successful relationship someday.  Spending the rest of my life alone sounds worse than death. I can’t even have a cat.

Is there anything sadder than a catless cat lady?

 

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.

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!