Things have leveled out. I have my appointment with the clinic (September 2 at 8:30 a.m.) I have gotten used to not having J here with me. So things have leveled out and life is carrying on as usual. I complain about my boss and I bitch when my phone rings.
Yet it feels like it isn't my life. Ever since I was a little kid I've done this stupid thing where I would sit and tell myself "you aren't real, this isn't your life. You are just in a different person's body looking out of her eyes." I would disassociate from my body and freak myself out. That is kind of what it feels like. I'm going through motions and living life but it feels wrong and unreal. A disease and a marriage on the rocks. How did this happen?
I'm 30 years old and I was very excited to turn this age. But I should have known better. I know that even years are bad ones. Magical thinking, you know? And yet I still have this positive attitude and this forced optimism. Because I don't have any other way to cope. I can't give up and be angry and depressed because I learned early on that life can hurt you very much. I've been fortunate that most of my pain has been strictly emotional. I'm not going through starvation or devastation as so many others are. I'm good about reminding myself that I truly have little to complain about.
But it still hurts and I am more confused than ever. But I've achieved that patience that I need. I finally feel like I can cope with waiting for J to be ready to talk to me. It might take days, it might take months. But I feel like I can wait and not freak out. And if things don't work out? I don't know. Practically, I assume I'll sign the papers and change my last name back to my maiden name. I'll continue to work. I'll keep busy. Would I date? I don't know. I can't imagine risking this again, this pain and this sense of failure and total heartache.
Where the fuck is the natural selection benefit here? Shouldn't I be able to move on quickly and just start fucking people? That would be the best way to propagate the species but that idea sickens me. Of course, I don't want children so I guess it might work differently for me since sex is just a fun and pleasant activity for me rather than a mean to an end. But still, you'd think humans would be past heart break.
Chalk it up to my shitty genome with its autoimmune disorders and mental problems.
What do I want? No idea at this point. I'm afraid to even ask for my life to feel real again because feeling like I'm outside looking in is comforting because my pain is less. It feels weird, but at least I'm not crying all the time.
So that is where I am. I feel like shit but it's like having the very last bits of a hangover where you know you feel like shit but you can't sleep it off or even pinpoint what hurts.
I'll take that for now.
Yet it feels like it isn't my life. Ever since I was a little kid I've done this stupid thing where I would sit and tell myself "you aren't real, this isn't your life. You are just in a different person's body looking out of her eyes." I would disassociate from my body and freak myself out. That is kind of what it feels like. I'm going through motions and living life but it feels wrong and unreal. A disease and a marriage on the rocks. How did this happen?
I'm 30 years old and I was very excited to turn this age. But I should have known better. I know that even years are bad ones. Magical thinking, you know? And yet I still have this positive attitude and this forced optimism. Because I don't have any other way to cope. I can't give up and be angry and depressed because I learned early on that life can hurt you very much. I've been fortunate that most of my pain has been strictly emotional. I'm not going through starvation or devastation as so many others are. I'm good about reminding myself that I truly have little to complain about.
But it still hurts and I am more confused than ever. But I've achieved that patience that I need. I finally feel like I can cope with waiting for J to be ready to talk to me. It might take days, it might take months. But I feel like I can wait and not freak out. And if things don't work out? I don't know. Practically, I assume I'll sign the papers and change my last name back to my maiden name. I'll continue to work. I'll keep busy. Would I date? I don't know. I can't imagine risking this again, this pain and this sense of failure and total heartache.
Where the fuck is the natural selection benefit here? Shouldn't I be able to move on quickly and just start fucking people? That would be the best way to propagate the species but that idea sickens me. Of course, I don't want children so I guess it might work differently for me since sex is just a fun and pleasant activity for me rather than a mean to an end. But still, you'd think humans would be past heart break.
Chalk it up to my shitty genome with its autoimmune disorders and mental problems.
What do I want? No idea at this point. I'm afraid to even ask for my life to feel real again because feeling like I'm outside looking in is comforting because my pain is less. It feels weird, but at least I'm not crying all the time.
So that is where I am. I feel like shit but it's like having the very last bits of a hangover where you know you feel like shit but you can't sleep it off or even pinpoint what hurts.
I'll take that for now.
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