Thursday, January 13, 2011


I have been feeling very procrastinatory lately.  I think I might have made that word up.  But regardless, it's true.  I have lots of things that need doing, but I'm simply avoiding them all to the best of my ability.  I'm not working on writing the book I want to write; I'm not even starting to get it organized.  I haven't cleaned up the pile of papers that's sitting on my bookshelf that needs to be gone through and filed.  I haven't written the thank-you notes I need to write for the gifts I received for Christmas from people from the office.  I need to reply to an email I received from a good friend over a week ago.

I don't know why I'm just not doing these things.  None of them are like life-altering, earth-shattering things that once I do them my life will be different.  Instead, I want to read my book and play with the kids and sleep and talk on the phone.  I feel like I'm mildly shirking some responsibility by not doing these regular things that will help me feel some control and some organization in my life.  I'm usually okay with doing things that will help me feel less stressed and more in control.  I feel nothing but frustration for my sister when I realize that something that she's simply not done is adversely affecting my life, but that's what I'm doing!  I'm not doing!

At the same time, I'm not feeling any more or loss out-of-control because I'm not doing.  I guess that's okay, right?  I just don't like things to pile up because then I feel overwhelmed, and when I get overwhelmed I get upset, and when I get upset I feel like I can't control anything.

I feel desperation.  The more days that go by that I don't meet my future husband, the more desperate I feel.  I'm trying very hard to not allow it to get to me, and some days are better than others, but there's always some sense of desperation in the depths of my soul.  I have just about everything I want: I have great friends who care very deeply about me.  I have wonderful parents without whose support I'd probably have killed myself long ago.  I have a beautiful, smart, and funny dog who loves me unconditionally.  I have a (nice) roof over my head, food to eat, clean water with which to bathe in and to drink.  I have a job that I don't hate, and money to spend on things that I need.  Obviously I'd like to be able to successfully support myself and my dog with little to no financial input from my parents.  And realistically that's not too far off.  I am reasonably certain that I will be able to go back to school starting this summer.  I really can't ask for too much more.

Oh, terrific.  So.  This morning, I gave in to a moment of weakness.  In my desperation, I texted The Ex.  Aaron.  I asked him if he would come and see me before he went to Washington to start his new job there.  He responded with a lengthy text that basically said that while he didn't want to take away my incentive to move out of my parents house (as though he were my only incentive = VOMIT), but he was using his leave to travel with his girlfriend and it wouldn't be a good idea for them to stop by. 

OH MY GOD.  First of all, I want to kick myself in the face until I'm unconscious for texting him in the first place.  I didn't know what I was expecting to get out of it, but it sure wasn't that.  I immediately started crying.  At work.  My first reaction is - he has a girlfriend.  It's entirely possible that he's only said it to hurt me, but I know him well enough to know that he often has girlfriends.  He hates himself too much to be alone.  Then my next immediate response is to question myself: why can a horrible piece of shit person like him manage to find someone, when I cannot?  He's horrible!  He's one of the most selfish people I've ever met in my life (and I know my sister).  Obviously a lot of how I'm reacting is from being hurt.  I'm trying very hard to validate myself by insulting him.  That's what humans often do when they get hurt.  And hurt I am.  And angry.  I'm angry at him for going out of his way to upset me.  I'm angry at myself for allowing my weakness to get the best of me.  I'm angry that he can still upset me so.  I'm angry that I allow him to upset me so.

When I was having a discussion with New Guy the other day (an alias I'm going to need to change, because he's no longer "new" to me, and that's an alias which I bestowed upon him with endearment, and I no longer find him endearing), I told him how I'm learning how to control my emotions instead of letting them control me, and he made a good point.  I was tearing up because I was upset, and I explained to him that when I get upset, it's not always necessarily a bad thing.  When I cry, it's often just the overflowing of my emotions out my eyeballs.  He asked me that if I can control how I feel about becoming upset, why can't I control the amount of emotions I keep inside of me to the point of them overflowing out of my tear ducts?  When I was just taking a moment away from my desk to try to compose myself, I thought of that, and thinking about being in control of my emotions enough to not cry actually helped me to stop crying.  The urge to cry is still very near to the surface of my being at the moment, and it's only by grace of professionalism that I'm trying not to allow the tears to spill over into concrete being.  I am certain that I will go home and fall apart, quietly or not is of no importance.  I would just like to allow myself to feel sad, and become comfortable with being sad for a little while in order to let it pass.  It's very similar to grief, my need to get comfortable with the emotions that I feel. 

I had a past therapist explain to me that I need to "sit with" my discomfort in order to process it correctly.  If I can sit with the discomfort and thoroughly process it, I won't be carrying it around with me in the form of the Depression that so often cripples me.  And so that is my plan - to find comfort in the discomfort that the knowledge of my ex-boyfriend's life brings me.

Meanwhile, I have no idea how to come to terms with the frustration that is saturating me over my singlehood.  Everyone I've talked to about it has said the same thing: I am a great catch, any man would be lucky to have me, and that I will find that person when the time is right.  Those things are very nice to hear, but not very helpful, I'm afraid.  The future is uncertain.  There is no guarantee that I will find a mate the way so many of my high school classmates and soccer teammates have.  I wonder if it is not too late already; that if it were going to happen, it would have happened already.  How do I get out of my own way and allow myself to be happy despite my aloneness?  How do others do it?  Am I unhappy because I have experienced the joy of companionship and the possibility of marriage?  Would I be more satisfied with myself if I had never experienced the wonder of being loved?

When will this stop hurting?

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