Today I am struggling. My emotions are volatile and I don't want to be here anymore.
The day started off nicely. I woke up before my alarm. I went outside and worked with my vegetables a bit. I’ve got one acorn squash vine that the squash bugs have found, so I was double checking leaves for eggs and hosing things down with neem oil. Walking barefoot in the grass before the sun reached that side of the house felt nice, but it was still already uncomfortably warm. I got inside, washed my hands, and put some biscuits in to bake. I asked Daddy to pull them out when they were done and took a shower. I usually only wash my hair once a week, but with the heat and humidity right now, it needed another round. I cooled off for a few minutes, ate two sausage and cheese biscuits, then got myself ready and headed to work.
The whole time I was doing all of these things, I was sad. I’ve been feeling sad and disconnected for a while. I’m trying not to make any big changes right now, because I don’t want to blow up my life because my depression is kicking up some dust. So I’ve gone back to my routines. I’m doing my best to eat well, medicate, meditate, and keep from being overwhelmed. Unfortunately, my life doesn’t lend itself well to any of these things.
When I got to my desk, I started looking for distractions. I signed up for a couple free concerts they’re putting on at work. Most of them are bands I’ve never heard of. I plugged one into Pandora and started a station. All of the songs were about love and happiness and being devoted to the person who means the world to you. And I started crying. I am working alone in my office today, so that wasn’t too bad. I closed the door to my office and let myself sob for a while.
I’m so tired of feeling abandoned. Forgettable and forgotten. Half-seen. Half-loved. I’ve had a few tastes of the kind of love where I was truly seen, truly loved for a little while. The infatuation of that partner always faded, leaving me with a lifetime kind of love when theirs had a short-term sell-by date. It all comes back to a father-shaped wound. My father beating my mother is one of my earliest memories. Several of them, truthfully. Running and hiding from someone I loved. Someone who told me they loved me. An angry man shouting and lying and being casually cruel. And then being abandoned by him. (Quite literally. He left my brother and I at a truck-stop. That’s the last time I ever saw him.) I’ve come to expect betrayal and pain. It’s home.
I don’t want to live in that house anymore. I want to be loved freely, without begging for it. Without having to prove myself worthy by opening a vein over and over again. I don’t want to live here anymore. I don’t want to live alone, either. But I don’t know if I have the strength to rebuild. I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired and sad. I’m also angry. Furious. I didn’t deserve any of this.
After a deeply unproductive day at work, I want to the ballpark and did my best to work through shit. It was ugly and messy. More crying.
Dinner was some cold soup right out of the can, and cake. I went WAY over my calories today. I ate like shit. I have a headache from crying. I took all my meds today. I did my tracking and habit builder. I took care of my face and teeth.
