I haven’t blogged on this site for a long time; too many other things going on, as well as a couple of other sites that have pretty much taken up too much of my time; somewhere in there, I also have to manage to work.
It hasn’t been a very good beginning to the new year; made it through the holidays all right, which was good, but then the shit just kind if hit the fan on New Year’s Day, and I am still reeling over it. My boyfriend and I broke up on New Year’s Day, and though on the surface it was a “mutual decision,” it really wasn’t; he basically told me that he has been leading me on and lying about our relationship for the past two years, and because of his drinking, I had to tell him okay, fine, I am not going to deal with this anymore. I am beyond hurt and amgry about this; more than anything, I just feel a deep and abiding sense of lonelienss and despair that this is where my life is again. I likened our relationhip to giving a kid a couple of bites of an ice cream cone, then teaking it away and saying, “Wasn’t that good? But you never get to have this again.” Before Steve, before Owen, I had come to a place where I was happy; not wildly happy all of the time, but had attained a certain measure of peace and contentment in my life. Then I met Steve, got pregnant, and somewhere along the way began to hope that this time things would work out for me; I began to think that maybe I could have hope, that my belief in love would finally become a reality for me.
Not so; and now I am right back where I was, feeling alone and lonely and, yes, bitter and angry. I think those people who say things like “Better to have loved and lost…” or, “Don’t worry, there is someone out there,” have never had their hearts broken, have never lived with the knowledge, every day, that for some reason they were not good enough to be loved. They have never faced the fear and sadness involved in raising kids on their own, and find it so easy to mouth those useless little platitudes designed to make them feel better and make me feel like shit.
The thing is, I really don’t believe that love truly exists, or at least not for me. I know myself well enough to know that I already HAD issues with men and the fact that we live in a nation where it is totally acceptable and sanctioned for them to walk away without a second thought. I know that there are good men out there (I personally know at least two! Wow!), I just don’t htink I have the time, energy, or caring to give a shit anymore. My kids have always been my priority, and they will continue to be so; it is a good thing they are around, because they save me from driving over to the liquor store and scrounging cab fare to the bridge. If it weren’t for them, I truly wouldn’t see the point of getting out of bed every morning.
I have a lot of good things in my life; these feelings are temporary, and I know the only way to get through them is, quite simply, to get through them. I have been here before, so I know that feelings don’t kill me; I also know, though, that my mission this year is to harden my heart against hope and learn to come to terms with things the way theyr are. I have done it before, and I know I can do it agan.