I wish

I wish I was dead. I don't have the balls to hurt myself, but if there was a home invasion, if I was in some horrific accident, I wouldn't mind.

Recent Happenings

We were having sex.
I fell out of bed and hit my head on the bedside table.
I had a big bump and a small cut. But anytime you hit your head and then your hand comes away with blood on it, is slightly panic inducing.
He patched me up, waited while I took a shower and made sure I was steady on my feet before he left.
So, that's what I've been up to.

Light

I haven't written in a while. I didn't have much to say that wasn't depressing. But I'm doing better now. I'm not 100%, and I'm not sure I've ever really been 100%, but I'm doing pretty great. My Mom has been such an amazing help for the last month. My Dad too. There are little bumps here and there, but I'm managing them. I'm getting out of bed and actually living. My new little business venture is keeping me busy and motivated.

I think the best part is that Landrie and Chelsea and Rebecca have all told me that I seem so much happier and excited than I have in quite a while. I am so glad that I have them (and about 15 other amazing girl friends) who kept me treading water for the last six months or so when everything seemed terrible and I wanted to give up on myself and life.

I'm still on medication, I'm still seeing the therapist, but I feel lighter. I feel pretty and funny and worthy again. I'm knocking things off my to do list, I'm doing things I want to do, I bought a plane ticket to meet up with these amazing girls for a long weekend. Things are looking up.

Frustrated.

Below is a whole thing I wrote months ago. I get it. It makes sense, things were never the same after the "I'm convincing myself to stay with Natalie" letter.

I'm young, healthy, smart, funny and employed. I have kind, welcoming, supportive, loving parents. I have an adorable, feisty, smart, sweet, funny kid. I sunk almost a year of my life feeling like an afterthought. Dating is exhausting and I'm not jumping back into it anytime soon. The girls are telling me that I'll be fine and I'll be glad I didn't settle when the right guy comes along. I don't know how or where I'll meet anyone, but from where I sit now, I think I have enough to keep me busy, and enough to have a full, happy life.




December 21, 2015: I'm frustrated. You acknowledge that you are flighty. I understand that you are anxious and depressed and that the holidays are tricky for you and that all this stress is compounded by not currently having a job. I'm getting increasingly frustrated. You have stuff to do around your house, you have ties to finish, and meetings and interviews and that's all well and good. But I'm still not a priority.

I keep bringing it up and you keep talking the talk, but your actions don't really change. Plans with you never quite work out the way they are meant to and its aggravating. When you eventually come over, I'm just so glad you've finally showed up that I don't want to argue. And you've usually had a stressful day, talking to your mom for example, so I don't want to pile on and make the whole day garbage. But I'm dissatisfied.

You said once that you felt like we were doing alright but that you missed solitude, or being alone or something like that. What a shitty thing to say. Like you don't have your own apartment, like  you don't have 4 nights a week to do whatever you choose. For fucks sake, you'll promise me that we are going to spend a day together, but you don't wake up until noon and then it will take you two hours to get to my house.

This is not going well. I've been in this situation before. I can yell or cry or scream but I can't make you put effort into this. I can't single handedly make this relationship more equal. I can't make you respect my time.

What I can do, is choose my actions and my words. I want to be with you, but the way we function as a couple right now, I can't do it.

The more I think about it, the angrier I get. I've taken on most of your interests, I listen to you talk and talk and talk. Sex is a frustrating and humiliating experience.

You talk about moving closer and right now, I don't think you should.
Getting engaged seems so ridiculous as to be laughable.
I feel like I've sunk time into you, so I stayed.
When we broke up in July, working with Trish was a cutting reminder every damn day. But Trish doesn't work here any more. Do you know what I thought, when I heard she'd been fired? I can break up with him now.
When my kid said he liked you but didn't want you to come around anymore, I thought: I can break up with him now.

So I was thinking...

Here are a bunch of thoughts I need to write down so I can stop thinking about them.

1. Jack's stuff is boxed up and ready for him. He has like two things I would like back but I just can't get up the nerve to text him. So I guess if he wants his big pile of belongings, he can make the first move. 
2. Its so so so cliche to say "let's stay friends," especially since Jack doesn't really "do" friends, but I miss him. Neither of us are mad at each other? Nothing when catastrophically wrong, we just decided like grown ups that we aren't right for each other. Does that mean we never speak to each other again? I guess we don't have any real need to be friends, we don't move in the same circles and would just be confusing and sad. I deleted him from FB, but only because when we broke up in July, he admitted to keeping tabs on me. If he wants to know how I am, he can ask me, otherwise he can just wonder about it. 
3. My ex husband is sniffing around. He's being very nice and letting me see the kid on days that aren't mine because I'm so pitifully lonely. I'm like 5 cocktails away from just getting back together with him to keep the black hole of loneliness from swallowing me whole. 
4. My friends are advising that I not sleep with the ex husband unless I want to get back together because without a doubt, he'll catch feelings about it and it will be a disaster. So they think I should get on Tinder and just bang a couple of randos.
5. I cannot bang any randos because my head is still not right. I though Jack and I were in love. I feel like he let me go so easily and without a second thought. I feel like all the things he said when we were together were just pretty words with no feeling or conviction behind them. So yeah, I could go out and catch a dick, but I'm unloveable. So if I went home with a one nighter, its highly likely that I'd burst into tears and act like a fucking weirdo. Because right now, more than I need to feel sexy and desirable, I need to feel loveable and worthy. 
6. Waterproof mascara is a joke. I finally quit trying to wear make up for this week because I just cry it off. I look like a gremlin without make up, but on the plus side, no one notices my puffy eyes because I just generally look unkempt. 
7. You know how my parents are generally dismissive of me? My feelings aren't valid, I'm just dramatic, depression isn't real, my problems aren't real problems. My Dad, my goddamn Dad who NEVER talks to me on the phone, called last night to check up on me and tell me that they will help me how ever I need help and to think of depression and anxiety like a broken leg (i.e. its a real medical thing requiring treatment). Which isn't a new thought for me but I've never heard that kind of stuff from him. 
8. Having my parents acknowledge that I'm struggling makes me feel worse. I must be the poster child for someone who is "in a bad way" if even they notice and worry about me. I mean, I appreciate their concern, but fuuuuuck, apparently my facade of holding it all together is not fooling literally anyone. 
9. Whenever I go through a breakup or am especially anxious (i.e. my current life) I don't eat. I just have no appetite. To be honest, I don't want to do any of the things necessary to keep on going. Washing my hair and shaving my legs sound like feats requiring entirely too much effort, and I'm single now, and with no makeup I already look like a billy goat, so who the fuck cares, right? But anyways, eating. It sounds like too much effort to make a meal, or even take the steps necessary to buy a meal. So I just haven't. I'm not hungry anyway. Plus, eventually I'll get my head screwed on straight and Natalie minus 10 lbs. is a better version to present when I eventually "get back out there." But my sweet little boy noticed I wasn't eating and insisted that I have dinner. 
10. I know I'm not quite 30, but when is it ok to just quit? No more websites, no more awkward dates, no more searching for this mythical, lasting love. I figure I'm about 3 more cats and an increased drinking habit away from embracing the Cat Lady lifestyle. 

Help.

I think my least favorite compliment is to be told I'm strong. I'm not strong at all, I'm just stubborn. If I don't go to the grocery store, or pay the bills, or teach myself to do taxes, or push myself to keep going when I just want to stop and cry, nothing gets done at my house.

I'm the only adult. I have a kid and two cats counting on me. I'm not strong at all. I often wish I never was, like in Its a Wonderful Life. I don't think I have it in me to hurt myself. But I wish I never existed. I wish that everyone I know, or ever knew, would go on living their lives as if they never met me.

I'm depressed. Its not just the break up, it's everything. It's work, and my ex, and my kid, and my friends, and my parents, and my finances, and my ever growing to-do list.

I get up and show up and through sheer force of will, I keep raising a kid and going to work. No one else thinks anything of it. But it's so fucking hard. I don't want to do any of this. I want to lay in my bed and cry and sleep. I want someone to notice that I'm at a breaking point, they don't have to fix me, just acknowledge me, hug me, sit with me for a minute.

It had been months since I had an anxiety attack. Yesterday I had two.
I keep myself physically busy, but my brain never stops. Sometimes I wish I were just a bit dumber so that my brain would focus on one task at a time. I can be watching tv or reading or working, and doing fine and absorbing that, and at the same time, my brain is overclocking itself.

My sleep is all fucked up. I needed pills to get me to sleep. Then I could get to sleep easily enough on my own but could never get enough. Two sleep studies later, I'm slapped with a sleep apnea diagnosis and handed a CPAP machine which all but guarantees I'll never have sex again. I finally got used to the stupid darth vader mask and sleep with it for most of the night, but now I'm back to not being able to sleep. My brain sits there replaying conversations, playing out worst case scenarios, pointing out my every flaw. Do you know why I'm able to be so funny and give a minimal amount of fucks what anyone thinks of me? Because nothing anyone can say to me is half as mean as what I think about myself.

My brain will be the death of me.

Deep Breath

We broke up.
He didn't love me enough to try to work on things or fight for us. I knew we were up and down. I was willing to try and to change and to do whatever. He said didn't think things could ever get better. He said that, right after he told me that he's not going anywhere, right after he said that he would be miserable without me.

I'm going to be ok. I cried while I talked with him, but I don't have any more tears. I don't really feel a  whole lot right now. If it was so easy for him to let me go, I'm not going to twist myself in knots over it.

The part that really sucks is that I introduced Jack to all my family, to my friends, to my kid. He fucking met my ex-husband. Jack did Christmas with us, cookies, and Santa, and presents and the whole thing. I was a damn good girlfriend. I hate this for my kid. I hate that they got along so well. I hate that the kid is going to ask about Jack and I don't know how to explain to this innocent, sweet, tender hearted child, that his friend is never coming back to race trucks with him.