Why is it so damn hard sometimes?


I went to New England for a funeral, which is supposed to be sad, but for the most part, aside from the funeral services itself,  I really enjoyed myself up there. On the other hand, when I got back home, my drive home from the airport was solemn and full of angst. I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. I knew my kiddos would be thrilled to see me and my husband would give me the warmest hug. So why am I so distant? Why wasn’t I racing to get home to the love and affection that awaited me?

The back of my ear itches like a bastard. It’s some strange affliction I seemed to have acquired when I stress out. I pick and pick until I irritate the skin. I try not to. Sometimes I just rub it, like an infant who also sucks it’s thumb. I haven’t gotten that far, but perhaps rocking might help…

I see my therapist next week. Hopefully I can pull myself out of this Debbie-downer mood I’ve fallen into by then. I hate being some angst ridden crybaby. But it seems if I don’t get this out of me, the alternative is just not an option. I just feel like I flew back to another planet where I barely speak the language. I don’t understand the customs and the people seem nice enough but they still don’t trust you cause you’re an outsider. I don’t trust myself either. I don’t know who I am or what to do next. So for now, I will scream into my pillow, rub my ear and the try to devise my next baby step before I go insane. … Fuck

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Noteworthy, Self Discovery

3 Comments

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  1. It gets better. Maybe a bit of a cliche by now, but it’s true. I got white board markers and wrote it on my mirror in my bathroom over and over and over and over again until I couldn’t see my reflection anymore, only the statement that life will get better. I would sit and stare at it. I know you share a bathroom, so you can’t necessarily replicate my approach, but I’m sure you can find your own.

  2. Yup. That’s what it’s like. For me, it got worse and worse until I told my wife that I’m gay. Things weren’t better immediately, but my life started to make sense. I no longer felt like people only loved me because they didn’t know who I really was. I no longer felt like my home had become a foreign country. The truth really will set you free.

    • You’re killing me Rickey… I think I’m gonna take my husbands offer up to find a girlfriend. I have to do something. Anything. The definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I need to do something different. I need to be as honest as I can muster. Oh sweet jesus give me some strength!

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