Failed again

 

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not my image 

My confidence has been flagging. Today it’s pretty much dead.

I should be out socializing with some fellow workshop goers this evening before the workshop tomorrow but the thought of going out and talking to strangers made my blood run cold and I couldn’t do it. I had an amazing jumpsuit picked out to wear and everything. But.  Strangers.  Talking.  People I admire.  Who are wildly talented and successful.   And me.  I just can’t.

I’m so excited for the workshop. I will feel anxious for sure but I can manage it.  But having to talk about myself, my sad excuse for a career, trying to be a presentable professional in a social setting, I just can not do it.

I hate this feeling.  I’ve gotten dressed, fabulously, for many a party or event that I failed to leave the house for.   I’ve walked into parties and events, fabulously dressed, and just turned around and left. I can be very social when I feel up for it.  But I can also need to hide in my bed and cry at the mere thought of making social small talk.

And with colleagues it’s especially terrifying. My career is going nowhere, very slowly.   I feel very disheartened.  I’m doing what I love but I’m not doing enough of it. I’ve been at it for close to a quarter of a century and yet still just getting by. Feeling alone and unsupported.  Without a community.

I had a particularly humiliating setback today.  I was really looking forward to seeing elskan mín this evening, after the little event I’m too anxious to attend, but he’s sick so I’m alone. I feel very alone in life lately.

I don’t know what’s going on with my relationship.  I feel like he’s drifting away. Maybe it’s a phase, he needed space but since we reunited he feels very distant still.  I feel very unmoored, from something in myself.

I don’t know if I’ve ever actually been confident. I’ve faked it. But I feel less able to do so the older I get. Maybe when I’m really old I’ll find that confidence in myself that doesn’t get crushed so easily. I’d love to be one of those fabulous women who just doesn’t give a fuck and marches on in the face of defeat to push their way to victory. But right now I’m just sort of old,  hiding in bed.

I feel like my life is so small. So small it might just disappear. I’ve got some wonderful friends but none are close geographically. I’ve  got some wonderful clients who make my work feel meaningful on good days, yet the stress of not having enough work to feel secure is always present.  I’ve got a lovely boyfriend who I adore spending time with… who I think is just drifting away.  And I don’t know what to do about any of it. Except hide when it’s too much. Except cry. Except accept that maybe I just kind of suck at life and this is it for me.

Maybe tomorrow won’t be so terrifying.  Maybe tomorrow I’ll find some shred of confidence in myself someday again.

Tomorrow, tomorrow! Jesus, I sound like a depressed adult ”Annie”.

 

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.

 

adrift

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not my image, googled “uninspired” & voila!

 

Forgive me, it’s been 48 days since my last post.

I was so happy in Iceland. I was so happy to come home to elskan min. I was just happy.

Then some things combined to conspire against my sunny disposition. Winter, for one. Without the pool, hot tub, sauna, steam room or nature hot springs to warm me up I’ve been feeling cold, tired of the grey skies, rain and dark. It’s freezing in my uninsulated house. I bundle up but I’m cold. In multiple sweaters.

I am also recovering from an injury. It is getting better, slowly, but anything can flare it up and then I’m really hurting. All the things I’d love to be doing hurt it. Sewing. Typing blog posts. Reorganizing, decluttering, cleaning, all things I actually really need to do and do enjoy, weird but true. So I’ve been resting. And it’s made me restless.

Work isn’t going great. That isn’t helping either. Perimenopause is also not helping, I’m often weepy, crying at sappy songs on the radio, or some random sight out the bus window. I’m sinking into something depression-adjacent. I feel adrift, from my self.

I had some great ideas for posts when I was just returning from Iceland. But I was busy reuniting with elskan min, too busy to be writing. Now I can’t remember ever having a brilliant idea for anything, let alone this blog.

So I’m writing about not knowing what to write about. Metta, I know. Maybe I’ll build some momentum. I need to be creative. Not being creative or able to clean is making me feel very unhappy. I literally spent most of yesterday feeling like I’m a total failure and have wasted my entire life. Today was a little better. Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel like my self has finally come ashore on the raft it’s been drifting on, grounded instead of floating aimlessly. Maybe tuesday I’ll have an idea of some decent proportion.

 

Ok, now I’ve got to go do my ice/heat therapy, my body isn’t willing to type anymore. Spinsterhag isn’t a spring chicken anymore. But she’s not dead either!

Long live Spinsterhag!