I find myself at a unique time in my life where I’m both lonely and desiring nothing more than to be alone. My husband is disabled and cannot work, so he’s home all the time. I understand that it’s necessary to some degree, but I would love nothing more than to have the house to myself. To sing out loud and not care about who hears. I go to work for ten hours a day and left to my own devices because I’m trusted. And while it’s not that Eric doesn’t trust me (because he does), I just want to be left alone, so I can further determine who I am. What I am. And why I am who I am. As I write this, he’s upstairs with me in the adjoining room working on his Anubis creation and listening to music (that mostly I like… ). I just wish he’d go downstairs. And of course, I’m too much of a doormat right now to say anything. He’s happy. So why spoil that? Even if it means that my happiness is dwindling?

I love Eric. I do. Everything in my body and mind says I do. We’ve been together for 25 years. It seems like a whirlwind of things that have happened in the course of our relationship, but we’ve weathered it all. The pandemic has made it hard, of course. Just like it’s tried all sorts of relationships. That kind of close quarters (no matter how many square feet of dwelling you occupy together), it’s difficult.

I had therapy yesterday, and it triggered things, memories, that I hadn’t really dealt with all the way through. The loneliness of my growing up with my mom in the nursing home. The family relationships falling apart at the seams during this time. My misbehavior. Everyone just doing their own thing and not actively supporting me. The church, the people, the distance, the judgment. It was for all intents and purposes my hell on earth. And because I was sick in the head and heart, I picked people who wanted more to take advantage of the person I was and my decency in character. They wanted me to be their cash cow. And obey. They didn’t want me to be myself. So many people over my lifetime didn’t like who I was. So they changed me. And eventually with that being said, I had to decode what it was that was integral about who I actually was/am. Talking about the feelings of separation from everyone with my therapist was incredibly heart wrenching. I explained to him that I felt like everyone failed me during my formative years. Instead of sitting me down and saying, I see you’re having a hard time. Would you like to talk about it. And while that seems ideal, to some extent – would l have taken them up on that? I don’t know that I would have. I was a teenager that thought nothing could touch me. Yet everyone did. Their eyes, their hands, their fists, their disappointment. It all penetrated my fragile spirit.

I realize, wholeheartedly, that I am a changed person to some degree. I still feel like the internal wounds are still very much in tact in some ways. I would love to make more friends that I can connect with. People that would understand me and would be able to jump up on that same soap box that I occupy when I get into my rants about the injustices of the world. The idea that I’m probably a feminist. That I want the planet to be cherished, respected, and taken care of. We could sit down with a cup of coffee and discuss things that are important to both of us, and actually be listened to. When I get into a mode where I feel excited about something and I tell Eric, he generally interrupts me if he has something that he’d like to add to the discussion. And while I don’t think he means it, it causes me to feel as if he doesn’t want to listen to what I have to say. He wants me to hear him. I’m pretty sure that might be a product of him being home all the time and wanting his own validation – but I take it as though he’s trying to dominate the conversation and I have little voice. I get tired of that very quickly – although, honestly – it just dawned on me recently how it truly made me feel less than.

A long time ago, people stopped nurturing me. I had to find a way to nurture myself. And I did a really crappy job of it. I picked people who were all too bad for me. I created life. I embodied a broken spirit and continued to be abused and neglected. And I’m trying to reawaken as a new person. A new spirit. One that has power and capacity for great change. I want to feel proud of myself. In the meantime, I don’t fully value who I am and what I do for people.

My therapist told me in our last session that I am a wonderful mother and I deserve love. I am a wonderful wife and I deserve to be cared for. In my mind and eventually out loud, I got angry with him. Well, maybe less with him and more what I felt he was pointing out. He was telling me that the person I was with other people deserved xy and z. I got angry and said I’m sick of that! I am a person outside of those titles. There was a part of me that was surprised at myself for asserting that. I guess I had never admitted it fully to myself. Maybe my compassionate side is still alive and well, but the compassion is finally taking a back seat to the part of me that needs to be valued. Not just externally, but internally as well.

As I’ve said in the past, I value diversity. I think we all make life beautiful. Here’s the hitch that I have: I can look externally and think that diversity is beautiful. In my perception, I don’t see anything about myself that adds to the diversity that creates beauty. You can ask anyone that knows (truly knows me) about what I’m like. Whether I add beauty to their life. Recently I was told by a coworker that if they ever need cheering up, they’d come to me and referred to me as their savior for helping them out of their funk. I know there are people I love that truly respect me for the person that I am. And not who they think I might pretend to be. I am real. I am broken and I will admit that fully. I also have the capacity to be something other than a broken figure. Maybe some day, I’ll have a legitimate smile on my face. Something that will take the pain out of my existence. For now, when I think of myself, I think of the broken person. The person that society rejected. The fact that my genes have tried to kill me. Have killed my mom, my sister, and Darrian. And that’s another discussion for another time, honestly. That one is HEAVY….

Look, right now, I’m sad. REALLY sad. And I know that I’ll be okay. In the grand scheme of things, I’ll be able to see the sun shine and be grateful for it. And I know that I have to work this through. Everyone does. Right now, the pain is palpable. I can feel it in every muscle, every bone, every fiber of my being. And it’s overwhelming. And I know this feeling is not unique. Many of you might share that feeling with me from your own journey. Your own story. And if you do feel that kind of pain, my heart goes out to you. It’s unenviable. Some day, the light will shine brighter for all of us. For now, please take care of yourself as I am attempting to do for myself.

Blessings to you all,

Janet