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?

 

Despair

I’m struggling to avoid falling into despair. I’m fluctuating between sadness and numbness. I wish I was busy enough to just throw myself into work but I’m not nearly busy enough, another source of deep anxiety.

All I can do is just keep going forward. Even though it feels like walking in place at the best of times.

I wish I had some profound insight to share. I wish I believed that “everything happens for a reason” or something else buoyant and uplifting.  But I’m just trying to keep my head above water.

 

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.

 

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.

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.