Do you ever find yourself sitting on your sofa at midnight on a Saturday morning, i.e. Friday night… your dishwasher running… your “significant other” gone to sleep after yet another round at an argument you’ve had several times before which ended with his announcing “I’m not talking to you” and your realizing, with a hint of…regret?…sadness?…resignation? that what you’re feeling is well… Relief?
I am lucky enough to have people in my life who support me and put up with me in spite of my constant wallowing, and I don’t know how they can stand it. I mean, you know, sometimes i’m ok… If I don’t think too hard… but at moments like these, I feel utterly lost. I’ll be ok… I’ll keep going…. but why…. why can I not seem to muster the strength to acknowledge that this isn’t working? That even if it’s my “fault”– even if Im too snippy and too sensitive– I’m also just not happy? Ok, I guess I’m acknowledging it, sort of. But why can’t I be? Why can’t this work? Why can’t this be right? And why can’t I just accept reality, cut my losses and start over?
Obviously, I’m scared. But I’m a fighter, dammit! Always have been. And so I hate myself for being so damn pathetic. For doing what I would kill my friends for doing, and knowing it all too well.
Sigh. Blah blah blah… I’ve said this all before…same thing dif day.
But God… If you’re out there… throw me a line, because I got lost somewhere out here, and I need help pulling myself out…
