Thursday, August 12, 2010

Finding Forty, Day 77; Martha Stewart

My email to A today, because it's the truest picture of how I'm feeling in this moment.

I'm sad and lonely.  I keep crying today, but only for a little bit at a time.   I'm bored and hot too.  I just now, at 4, turned down the air.   I thought about calling you, but if I do you will be busy and I won't even know what to say on the phone.   We'll have those awkward silences and I won't know how to fill them, but will feel such pressure to do that very thing.   So, I'll ask you mundane questions, further wasting your time, all the while trying to make things feel right.  

What happened?  Where did we/I go wrong?   How did we get here? 

I'm so tired.  So tired of worrying, so tired of wishing for things that cannot be (not just S related).   So tired of being fat and lethargic.  So tired of wrinkles, craters under my eyes, clenched, aching jaws.

I'm angry too.  Angry that I gave myself so wholeheartedly and willingly to someone who didn't appreciate me or in the end, even want me.   And angry that you could say the same about what I did with you.  I'm so, so sorry.   So sorry.  

I had dreams.   We were going to be happy, live in a decent house, with thick, green grass and big, oak trees.  We'd wear white linen on the beach and send our sunburned smiling faces out every Christmas in cards to show how great things were.   I'd decorate the house for every holiday and the smell of cookies would waft through the house year round.

I was going to write and then write some more and be a member of writing clubs and discussion groups.  I was going to talk about intelligent topics like politics and philosophy and women's rights and love.

And we were going to be best friends.  We'd have time to sit and listen to each other's dreams, wishes, our daily diatribes.  We'd laugh and have inside jokes and never run out of anything to say to one another.  
We'd walk, hand in wrinkled hand at a pace that fell somewhere in between your fast clip and my lazy gait. 

When did I stop thinking that any of this was possible with you?   How did I lose this vision?   And how do I get it back or do I even want to?

Who am I and what do I want?

I've got to figure that out.  I've got to put aside the Martha Stewart version of what I thought my life should  and would be and begin doing some serious soul searching.

Whatever I come up with, at least it will be movement in any direction.  I'm beyond tired of being stuck.

Sorry I'll be gone tonight.   It just seems like we need to talk, even though I know how hard and exhausting that is.

I love you,

1 comment:

  1. I think we all have to learn to let go of that Susie homemaker image we always thought we would be. Reality is not that way. I bet Ms. Susie Homemaker cried herself to sleep more than once. Seems you are on the right path. One day at a time. :-)