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Reaching out and asking for friendship obviously didn’t work, so I’m at a loss and feeling more alone than ever. 

I was missing a friend of mine, and was encouraged to reach out and tell her I missed her.  And I got the following, “I’m still around, and I know you’re having a rough time, but I’m too wrapped in my own drama to deal with yours.”  Ouch.

I wasn’t asking to be “dealt with” or even to cry on someone’s shoulder.  I’m not a damn project that you have to have energy to deal with.  I am not my mental illness.

What I was asking for was just to talk like we used to, to joke around and take our minds off our dramas for a while.  I’m a really funny person (at least I think so) and I know how to joke around and be “normal” even if I don’t feel it.

What I was asking for in my last post was just…validation from total strangers.  How arrogant to think I deserved any encouragement from people I’ve never met, when people I’ve known for years couldn’t do it.  Message received. 

I get discouraged when I try to reach out and hear nothing or get trivialized as a project.  And I get not having the emotional spoons to spare for anyone else, so maybe I’m not being fair?

I am hurt, though.  I am a person.  Who needs friends.  And not only am I not making more, I’m losing them daily.

It hurts and it sucks.  Why bother?

I’m barely holding onto the strings of sanity. I’ve been the caretaker of someone else, losing precious sleep, ignoring my own needs, and getting angrier and angrier.  Today I feel like the anger will snap.

I am at the end of my rope.  At the end of my patience and when I try to communicate this I’m ignored.  Or worse I’m met with an exasperated sigh and “oh not this again” or the old standby “you need help”.

Yes, yes I do need help.  I need to be taken care of, as selfish as that sounds.  I need to be listened to.  I need more help than typing my words into the blankness will ever provide.

But I don’t want to pay someone to sit there and judge me.

I want my mom & dad.  I want my sisters.  I want a friend. I want connection.  I just want a hug.
I’m crying in the bathroom at work, shaking and afraid and alone.
I want to know that it’ll be ok.

Someone please, tell me it will.  Even if it’s a lie.

I have been out of the habit of writing, and have only taken to the page/screen when my emotions are too difficult to handle.  I should write more often instead of waiting until the bubble is about to burst on my brain.   Though I should eliminate the word “should” from my vocabulary all together.  Let’s try this again.  I should It would be better for my sanity to write more often. 

A friend of mine who has been reading my blog sent me a message that said “Sometimes I think you should just come home”.  I know that it most likely wasn’t his intention, but It made me think that maybe I come off as completely miserable here in London with my husband.   So let me be clear, I’m only miserable inside my own skin.  That makes it harder to bear sometimes because I “should” (ugh, that horrible word) be happy.  I “shouldn’t” be depressed because people are envious of the life and things I have.  On top of feeling depressed, I feel guilty for not being able to just “get over it”.  I see the good and wish that I could turn off my depression by simply appreciating the things that I have.  But it goes much deeper into the depths of my brain, and I feel like I’m trapped in it. 

It also makes me afraid to talk to anyone about struggles I have being married.  It’s harder than I thought it would be, and sometimes I get so frustrated with living with another person.  I don’t tell anyone because I don’t want people to think I made the wrong choice by uprooting my entire life to move here.  I don’t want people to think that I don’t love my husband.  That has never been a question in my heart, I wouldn’t have chosen to be here otherwise. Sometimes, however,  it frustrates me when I can’t communicate effectively how I’m feeling.  I take it out on him, and that sucks the most. He’s the person I lean on the most, and when I’m pissed off at him, who am I supposed to talk to?  I’ve shut out everyone else and I don’t have any safe coping mechanisms since I gave up smoking. Last night when I couldn’t cope,  I shut myself down and went to bed.  I fell asleep craving the comfort of nicotine instead of dealing with the issues that were making me so upset.

Does this mean that I should just pack it in and come home?  Should I seek out a geographical solution to a problem that clearly isn’t?  No, that is clearly not the answer.  My reply to him was “What does home mean anyway?”  I wish I could find that feeling inside my own skin.  I don’t know that I’ve ever felt that way, no matter where I’ve lived.

But see this?  This is why I can’t write. My brain goes everywhere but in a straight line.  I don’t even know what the point is even trying to navigate or make sense of it.

Once a month, I am painfully reminded of my emptiness.  It hurts everywhere, not just in my empty womb.  I mourn for the loss that never was and never will be.

When I was little, my mother asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  It’s a common question posed by adults everywhere.  At 8, my standard answer was that I wanted to be a writer and a mommy.  Most adults, parents included, laughed and told me that wasn’t really a career path.  They always encouraged me to think bigger.  I stopped answering the question after that.

As I get too old for these things, I mourn.  I know there are woman everywhere that don’t feel the need to have children, and I wish I could be like that.  I know for some women they are also physically unable to.  They are still beautiful amazing women, they still have a purpose. So why can’t I let myself off the hook?

It’s getting harder every month.  With more and more of my friends becoming parents and my parents strongly hinting at grandchildren as they watch all their friends become grandparents.  They’ve had 37 years of marriage and aren’t getting any younger.

But is this desire for children really my own?  Is it societal?  Hormonal? Pressure from family?  We aren’t even trying, because other than once a month, I’m convinced that it would be a bad idea to pass on all my fucked up genes.

I’m struggling to find meaning for my life.  I’m struggling to find a purpose for why I’m here.  It sounds overdramatic and whiny but I’m in so much pain, physical and emotional that I’m typing this out on my phone on the bus just to get the words out. 

My body feels like it’s punishing me for my failures.  And moreover, I feel like I deserve it.

Last night I had one of the most vivid dreams I’ve had in quite some time.  Each time my alarm went off, I fought wakefulness and kept returning back to the same place, aching to grasp the threads of the dream again.  Shadows of it are still haunting me, even though it’s mid-afternoon.  I wish I had a way of transcribing my thoughts while I’m on the bus, because I had more to say about it then.  I seem to lose a lot of clarity in the time it takes for me to write things down.

I dreamed about someone who I haven’t spoken with since my dramatic departure from her life in 2004.  I spoke of this toxic person in an earlier entry and outlined some of the reasons I have for never speaking with her again.  We have a few mutual friends, but I’m careful not to ask about her, and have cautioned them about telling her anything about my life.  It sounds harsh, but it seems the harder I tried to push her away, she’d always find a way to prey on the love I had for her.  She’d find a way to make me feel sorry for ever leaving, and make me feel like I was the only person who could save her from herself.

In the dream, I drove the three hours to her wedding, which was in Pennsylvania (I guess in the dream I lived in Ohio).  I missed the ceremony, but went to the reception, where I sat alone and picked at the decorations on the table.  I was sulking and unsure that I should be there at all.  She was there dressed a wedding dress much like the one I wore for my wedding.  Her husband was nowhere to be seen, but she looked radiant as she greeted all her guests.  She looked happier than I’d ever seen her.  A mutual friend of ours came to my table and asked me what was wrong. I told her how I was feeling, and she nodded but then walked away.

At this point, my friend came to the table and sat down.  There were no hugs.  There was no fake gushing about how good it was to see each other.  We just faced each other.  She said to me, “You may not want to, but you are going to call me tomorrow.  I need to hear from you.”  I couldn’t meet her eyes, and said, “I don’t think I can do it.  I don’t want to face you, because you reflect back at me that person I was during that horrible time.  That person was a bad person.  I hate that person.  I don’t want to feel that ever again.”  She laughed and said, “You know I love you to bits, but I feel the same way about you.  I still think  you’re going to call me.”

I woke up at that point, but I still can’t wrap my head around what it means.  She did email me about 8 months ago, and said basically “I’m sorry. For all of it. For everything.  I know I can’t undo anything, and you probably won’t respond, and that’s OK. I just wanted you to know.”  I didn’t respond then, and I don’t think I should even now.

Is this some way of my brain dealing with the loss of my best friend from high school? As if I need to cling to those ghosts because I don’t want to lose the memories of who I was?

I have fought the urge to email this person so far.  I got some great advice from people much smarter than me about why I should keep this person out of my life.  But I feel like there’s something I need to do about my dream.  I feel like my subconscious is telling me something, and I’ll be damned if I know what it is.