I still don’t have the right words to tell you how I am, how I feel, what thoughts are racing through my head this last week. I just know I am weary, and sad, and somehow broken. It isn’t one thing, it isn’t a thousand things, it just is. And please don’t tell me that I need anti-depressants; I am on them already, and if I weren’t, I would probably have been dead long since. This isn’t something that medicine or therapy can fix, but instead is just part of my own nature. I am mentally curled into the fetal position, protecting myself from any further damage. I know this about the world, that there is a place for everyone, and I am struggling to find what that place is, where it is that I truly belong. And I am looking at my life thinking, no, wait, this is not my life. How can it be? But there it is, right in front of me-and this isn’t a complaint about my life, because there is an abundance of sweetness in my life. No, I simply don’t know what any of it means any longer.
I have been rereading some of my old posts, which is never a good thing to do because it just makes me feel ridiculous and self-important; I am not. I am one of a million women with stories just like my own. How humbling, then, to realize that all of this time and energy is being wasted because of an enormously self-inflated ego! I think that my words can change lives, I think our voices combined can make a difference, and now? I can only laugh. Not at any of YOU, at myself, for thinking I am so fucking great that the world will step up and notice. Again, I am no different than thousands, millions, billions.
I don’t know. This litany goes through my head. I don’tknowIdon’tknowIdon’tknow. I think of the single moms group and how hard we have all worked to be heard, and nothing has changed. The same old arguments about how we are money hungry whores (okay, slightly paraphrasing but not by much), how we made our beds and now we have to lie in them, and the absent parent is soooo unfairly treated…and I think that I don’t have the energy to fight it anymore. I have nothing more to say on the subject, because I am tired of getting the metaphorical shit kicked out of me. I still care, deeply and passionately, about the issue, but I am no longer willing to be open about it because I care too much; I am too easily hurt by the cruel words of people who just think we should shut up already. Who think we should feel grateful that any man would look at us. that think we should be raped and killed. And in the last 7 years, not one thing has changed.
Same with my faith; I hadn’t realized that a lot of the times if I say that I will pray for someone, it makes them uncomfortable and, yes, angry. I recently found that out because of a comment someone made on someone else’s post that wasn’t even directed at or to me, but it opened my eyes. Still, I say that, and I mean that, but I inadvertently found out that I really shouldn’t be saying stuff like that. Good to know, certainly; I don’t want to make people mad when I am trying to express my sincere concern the only way I truly know how, because that sort of defeats the purpose.
I stumble along and it really seems as if no subject is safe anymore. I know part of that is ME, I truly do know that. No matter how many times I have been around the block, I still have this kind of naive point of view; you know, the “even if we don’t agree we are all still people so it should be okay to disagree” kind of thing. Naivete or stupidity, either or both. I still, even when all evidence is to the contrary, want to believe that love really is the answer, but it isn’t. All it does it make me more vulnerable, and fuck vulnerability these days.
I just don’t have it in me to be a fighter anymore. My sponsor says that I am right where I need to be, and that I will have a sudden breakthrough one of these days and everything will change. she is probably right; she has 25-ish years sober, is strong and successful and beautiful and, yes, a fighter. I don’t know how she does it, because fuck me, I just want to lay in bed with the covers pulled over my head. I don’t want to have another fucking breakthrough because getting there? Hurts too bad. Ugly things are happening every day, and nothing I can say or do changes ANY of it. I laugh at myself for thinking I can, and step in the shit every time. And this isn’t about any of YOU, it is about me, and I don’t know where all the fight I used to have went. Maybe I have just used up my allotted amount of social angst already; maybe I just think that if I can’t make a BIG difference I shouldn’t even try, maybe I just need a break from reality for awhile. There is that litany again, Idon’tknowIdon’tknowIdon’tknow.
I went to the river at lunch today; it is cold, and it has been cloudy all morning, but I needed to get out of the office and away from people. While I was sitting there, watching the gray waves lap up against the bank and thinking about how small and insignificant we really are, the sun broke through the clouds. Two weeks ago I would have thought, perhaps, that it was a portent of things to come, a metaphor for my life, but now? I think it’s just science; the clouds break up and the sun shines through and all that means is that it isn’t going to rain today.