The Depths of Despair...
Oh dear Anne Shirley, I know what you meant by that phrase, the depths of despair. I've been wallowing in it now for the better part of a week. I think the year...the whole year, this whole, ugly, nasty, awful, world crushing year has caught up with me. And I can't bear it.
And if I have to hear from one more person how happy I should be because of all I've accomplished, I will punch them in the face.
Don't think I'm an idiot who doesn't realize how hard I've worked and what I've done. No one else in my family has a masters degree, let alone two. No one else in my family has any degree in theology, not even my father. And to be a woman to have gone to seminary...yeah, you can guess how many of those there are in my conservative family. I know these things. I know how well I've succeeded from a twenty-two-year-old girl who moved out here to California without a clue.
And yet...
I also know I am alone and it hurts. I know that I've devoted myself to a vision that seems to be screeching to a halt soon, and there won't be a damn thing I can do about it. I may be able to continue, I may not, it depends on the whims and budgets of whatever schools I apply to. I could apply to those far from Southern California where I made my home. And it is tempting, because to be honest, it isn't much of a home anymore. But the idea of restarting yet again in my life, when I should be happily settled...it feels like an insult, a slap in the face. Another reminder of how badly I've screwed up.
Oh I have, and I know it. Blah, blah, yeah I know, you shouldn't regret your choices, but it is so easy for those who stand outside of the situation to say that. My life seems to be filled with regrets now. I have had some hard realizations the last few weeks, and I think this is what makes the last week so difficult. It's hard making peace with the putting away of cherished dreams. But I'm thirty-four now, I thought my life would be so much different than it is. I thought being patient, loving, and caring would win out in the end, and that hard work and perseverance would make me happy. And in the end it has made me lonely. Perhaps because I'm too independent, perhaps because I never get angry enough when people hurt me...I don't know really. I'm alone, and it hurts.
I moved away from my family and closest friends with stars in my eyes about how I would make a new life for myself. In some ways I've exceeded more than I ever dreamed I would. In others...I did someone a terrible wrong once. And it wasn't just a wrong to her, it was a wrong to myself. I put my love and faith and trust in two people I thought would be as devoted to me as I was to them. It never occurred to me that just because I loved people dearly and sacrificed for them, they wouldn't return it in kind, or that it would hurt so badly to realize how insignificant you really meant to them after so many years. I didn't realize how hurt I had been by the crimes of others against me over the years, and how little consideration they had even given to it. I used to always have someone to talk to, someone to see, people I knew wanted to see me. I ask myself what did I do for that to go away. Not anything, really, though there is a lot I could have done differently. Cynically, they would say that is life, move on.
I should punch your face too, because I have moved on, time, and time, and time again...and I don't deserve this. I am worth more than this. And damn it, I'm angry as hell.
This has been the year where I've been made to feel worse that worthless.
I do feel slightly guilty...okay, a lot guilty. I rekindled a friendship with someone who, when I was younger, I loved dearly. They treated me poorly, and out of guilt have fallen all over themselves to make it up. And it has been nice, but really...I'm not the person who I once was. And I adore them as a friend, as you can see above I am painfully lonely. But as a friend, I think I need to tell them to stop falling all over trying to make amends for a past wrong. I realize I allowed it because I have been so low this year, that someone, anyone making me feel cared for has been welcomed. But I am taking advantage of a situation, I know it. They've been a good friend, and I'm glad to call them friend again. But I know that they are just that, a friend, and past wrongs should not be taken advantage of, just because of my personal grief now. And it makes me a bad person to do otherwise.
The truth is my grief won't go away...not today, not tomorrow, perhaps in a year, but I think it will always be there. And I think this week I have accepted my anger and grief, instead of trying to swallow it, or ignore it, or hope that it fades, because in truth it hasn't. I just used others to hide the fact that it was there. I should accept some things about myself now. First, I am alone. I hate it, I rail against it, I've never, ever in my life been alone, without friend, or family, or lover. But I am now, and I should start accepting this as what my life is, and for whatever reason what my life needs to be for now. Second, I need to accept that my dreams might end in September, without any recourse. What will I do with myself then. I need to have a Plan B. Failure is not an option for me because there is no one to catch me when I fall. Third, I need to stop using others and stop being used. I have done both because I'm broken and grasping for something, anything to keep me afloat. But I've only made matters worse, like I'm prone to do.
What a muddle I've made of my life.
In my beloved Anne of Green Gables series, Miss Cornelia speaks of the Race of Joseph, Anne calls them "kindred spirits". I know a few of you out there, you know who you are. And my beloved Jewell pack always were, it is why we've always remained close for so many years despite distance and life, (even if at times I've been annoyed at both in my friendships with them). I am saddened that I have so few others in my life who meet those qualifications.
There is no Diana Barry or Gilbert Blythe for me, even if I am a red haired, gray eyed, starry dreamer. Perhaps my dreams got me into this mess in the first place.
I think I will take up my brother's habit of fishing when he is upset or needs to relax.
And if I have to hear from one more person how happy I should be because of all I've accomplished, I will punch them in the face.
Don't think I'm an idiot who doesn't realize how hard I've worked and what I've done. No one else in my family has a masters degree, let alone two. No one else in my family has any degree in theology, not even my father. And to be a woman to have gone to seminary...yeah, you can guess how many of those there are in my conservative family. I know these things. I know how well I've succeeded from a twenty-two-year-old girl who moved out here to California without a clue.
And yet...
I also know I am alone and it hurts. I know that I've devoted myself to a vision that seems to be screeching to a halt soon, and there won't be a damn thing I can do about it. I may be able to continue, I may not, it depends on the whims and budgets of whatever schools I apply to. I could apply to those far from Southern California where I made my home. And it is tempting, because to be honest, it isn't much of a home anymore. But the idea of restarting yet again in my life, when I should be happily settled...it feels like an insult, a slap in the face. Another reminder of how badly I've screwed up.
Oh I have, and I know it. Blah, blah, yeah I know, you shouldn't regret your choices, but it is so easy for those who stand outside of the situation to say that. My life seems to be filled with regrets now. I have had some hard realizations the last few weeks, and I think this is what makes the last week so difficult. It's hard making peace with the putting away of cherished dreams. But I'm thirty-four now, I thought my life would be so much different than it is. I thought being patient, loving, and caring would win out in the end, and that hard work and perseverance would make me happy. And in the end it has made me lonely. Perhaps because I'm too independent, perhaps because I never get angry enough when people hurt me...I don't know really. I'm alone, and it hurts.
I moved away from my family and closest friends with stars in my eyes about how I would make a new life for myself. In some ways I've exceeded more than I ever dreamed I would. In others...I did someone a terrible wrong once. And it wasn't just a wrong to her, it was a wrong to myself. I put my love and faith and trust in two people I thought would be as devoted to me as I was to them. It never occurred to me that just because I loved people dearly and sacrificed for them, they wouldn't return it in kind, or that it would hurt so badly to realize how insignificant you really meant to them after so many years. I didn't realize how hurt I had been by the crimes of others against me over the years, and how little consideration they had even given to it. I used to always have someone to talk to, someone to see, people I knew wanted to see me. I ask myself what did I do for that to go away. Not anything, really, though there is a lot I could have done differently. Cynically, they would say that is life, move on.
I should punch your face too, because I have moved on, time, and time, and time again...and I don't deserve this. I am worth more than this. And damn it, I'm angry as hell.
This has been the year where I've been made to feel worse that worthless.
I do feel slightly guilty...okay, a lot guilty. I rekindled a friendship with someone who, when I was younger, I loved dearly. They treated me poorly, and out of guilt have fallen all over themselves to make it up. And it has been nice, but really...I'm not the person who I once was. And I adore them as a friend, as you can see above I am painfully lonely. But as a friend, I think I need to tell them to stop falling all over trying to make amends for a past wrong. I realize I allowed it because I have been so low this year, that someone, anyone making me feel cared for has been welcomed. But I am taking advantage of a situation, I know it. They've been a good friend, and I'm glad to call them friend again. But I know that they are just that, a friend, and past wrongs should not be taken advantage of, just because of my personal grief now. And it makes me a bad person to do otherwise.
The truth is my grief won't go away...not today, not tomorrow, perhaps in a year, but I think it will always be there. And I think this week I have accepted my anger and grief, instead of trying to swallow it, or ignore it, or hope that it fades, because in truth it hasn't. I just used others to hide the fact that it was there. I should accept some things about myself now. First, I am alone. I hate it, I rail against it, I've never, ever in my life been alone, without friend, or family, or lover. But I am now, and I should start accepting this as what my life is, and for whatever reason what my life needs to be for now. Second, I need to accept that my dreams might end in September, without any recourse. What will I do with myself then. I need to have a Plan B. Failure is not an option for me because there is no one to catch me when I fall. Third, I need to stop using others and stop being used. I have done both because I'm broken and grasping for something, anything to keep me afloat. But I've only made matters worse, like I'm prone to do.
What a muddle I've made of my life.
In my beloved Anne of Green Gables series, Miss Cornelia speaks of the Race of Joseph, Anne calls them "kindred spirits". I know a few of you out there, you know who you are. And my beloved Jewell pack always were, it is why we've always remained close for so many years despite distance and life, (even if at times I've been annoyed at both in my friendships with them). I am saddened that I have so few others in my life who meet those qualifications.
There is no Diana Barry or Gilbert Blythe for me, even if I am a red haired, gray eyed, starry dreamer. Perhaps my dreams got me into this mess in the first place.
I think I will take up my brother's habit of fishing when he is upset or needs to relax.