Well, it’s Monday again. It tends to come around quickly these days, week by week, month by month, the years just keep ticking over and disappearing into the past. Yet all the while, though things change, they –rather frustratingly- stubbornly insist on staying the same.
It’s funny how those old cliche’s seem to ring truer for me now that I’m older and w…. no, just older.
All of the developments of the past year indicate to me that my life has changed dramatically and that I should feel very different to how I did a year ago. Yet, while specific “things” in my life are different, I still feel the same. I still worry, I still burst into tears at random moments, I still laugh loudly at inappropriate times, I still feel contented sometimes and other times incredibly lonely, I still get excited about my future and I still get weighed down by the “what if’s” and “what if not’s”.
I’m still impatient and I still panic.
And sometimes, I still feel really, deeply, soulfully, sad.
This weekend just gone was a toughy, having had a friend inadvertently yank Mr X out of the ‘vault’ in my brain and very firmly into my “present” thoughts. It was strange to have anyone else talk about him. I will mention him from time to time but somehow me talking about him is ok. Somehow I manage to talk about him but keep him in the vault. In fact, I had become so good at this that it was almost like I had convinced myself he was a figment of my imagination and that all of that stuff never happened at all, that I never actually experienced anything painful but for in my dreams (or nightmares). I didn’t want to hear about him, or talk about him, or learn who was now working with him, or learn the baby’s name, but short of sticking my fingers in my ears and loudly singing “lalalalala” until the person stopped talking, there was little I could do to stop it. Plus, once the information started flowing I was like a car wreck, I couldn’t stop myself from mentally rubber-necking, I started to want to know and then that darned vault door -the one that I thought I had locked so tightly- swung wide open, and with it came all of the memories and all of the emotion.
Darn my flare for the dramatic, if only I could be that realist I strive to be, and shrug off such sentimental nonsense!
So, this weekend I gravitated between being fine, having shoved all of that stuff back into the vault and shut the door (though I have clearly misplaced the key and cannot lock it), and fearing that real happiness, the happiness that bubbles up from deep within your belly, trickling over your lips with a giggle and a smile, will remain uout of reach for me, or worse, that it was once reachable but is now lost to me forever.
I managed to keep the tears at bay but I found myself mentally and emotionally, back at my desk in July 2009, working on my thesis in between fits of despair and desperate attempts to contact him to repair the irreparable.
As I tried to ignore the burning in my chest and the nausea in my gut, I thought of my present circumstances, and of my internal debate over the “no children” issue, and pondering the curious lack of concern for the prospect of not having them (apart from the concerns that have been instilled by my loved ones). Truth be told, I have been saying I want children for a couple of years now but I guess what I was really saying was that I wanted children with Mr X. I know now that is never going to happen so, why would I care about not having children with another man? To me the fact that kids are off the table with The Crush makes the prospect of a relationship with him far more appealing, or at least much less stressful, because I know that I’m not going to be given an ultimatum in 10 months time whereby I must choose to either have children with him immediately, or move along.
So, basically, I’m torn between wanting what I can’t have, and wanting what I can have and then, confusion about whether I really want any of it at all!
Yup, its true what they say about me, I’m definitely hard to please!
I invite the men out there to rise to the challenge to see if they can figure out what it is that I do want.
First prize: Potentially meaningful relationship with a slightly broken toughened, blonde, 30-something female, well educated, gainfully employed, plus the bonus company of 2 marginally sensible dogs, for as long as we both can stand it.
While you are thinking, could please pass me the Panadol and the red wine?