Can't figure out what to do with myself. I've posted blogs. I've read my morning dose of Eat Pray Love, (my bible for surviving divorce). I've sat outside on a beautiful day. I've checked my email a hundred times. Everyone I know's at church, and I am not. I have a very limited number of true friends who know that going to church on Sunday is the best thing they can do. I, on the other hand, have stayed away today. Too depressed. Isn't that the truth of depression. You're dying for human contact, and avoid it like the plague? Blogging is probably the total collection of truly depressed people who feel this conflict and need some kind of contact with the unknown outside world. The few other bloggers out there are trying to become famous writers, sadly hoping to be discovered for their brilliance. Sorry. Don't mean to disparage you for reading this. Call the angry writer, "simply depressed." it's no reflection on you. It's just who I am right now. That's it exactly. Depression is who I am right now. If I weren't depressed, I wouldn't be writing. I'm like that terrible novelist in whatever the heck the sequel to "Romancing the Stone," is called. She writes when she's depressed and lonely. When life is good, she's in love, and living a dream life, she can't write. That's me. I write when I'm depressed, or sad, or lonely. That's why I'm not really a writer. I'm a talker. When I'm not depressed, I'm with friends, nd loving every minute of the conversation. I guess when I'm depressed, the talker just goes underground.
I've hit a new low yesterday and today. Decided to read my therapist's sheet on self-affirmation which she kindly gave me as I ended our time by saying, "You've got to help me learn to love myself." It's always the parting shot that is the real reason for your visit. Therapists know this, and you know this, and still you play the game. It's when you've avoided the main pain for the 50 minutes and you realize that your time is up that you blurt out the truth of why you've come. "You've got to help me learn to love myself!" I throw up on the floor of her very nice office. And of course the time is up so the best she can do is give me a "self-affirmation," sheet. I've been unfair to her and to me. I know it and she knows it, and so she hands me a sheet of paper like the lifesavers my grandfather passed out to us kids. A sweet note of "I love you," wrapped in foil and paper. These sheets my therapist sometimes gives me are not worth much. I don't read them very often 'cause I know that what I really need is her presence, her insight, her caring. Today I'm desparate enough to dig out the self-affirmation from my pile of papers tucked inside my calendar. They're all like a pile of lifelines waiting patiently for when I need them. Today I need one. Yes, I need the self-affirmation paper. Open it up to find, "I am light." What the hell is that? "I'm not light," every inch of me screams! Gdit! I'm not light! And God is not soaking up all the darkness! I am the darkness and if God is fucking soaking up the darkness, then I'll simply not exist! At least the pain would stop, if I didn't exist. Should I go watch, "It's a Wonderful Life?" I haven't been that kind to that many people. One person might show up with a $1 bill.
The truth is, the real reason I'm depressed and the real reason I want this divorce, is because I want to exist. I want to more than exist. I want to be happy. I don't want to clean up the messes of my husband's existance any more! I can't even clean up my own messes! I just want to get through this pain to the "other side," where some very small part of me knows that there is a better life.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Seems to me that you are headed in the right direction by knowing and acknowledging that you want to be happy. That is the key there... You know you aren't happy and you are trying to take the steps to be happy.
Know that just figuring that out is a huge step.
In the meantime, you are loved.
Post a Comment