Saturday. Saturday just seems to get harder and harder.
I first started having trouble with Saturdays when my ex first moved out and we started bouncing our kid back and forth on weekends. It's a lot of time to try and fill. The thing of it is, it wasn't even that much time. When that started in 2014, I worked a retail job. My "weekend" started Tuesday night, so Saturdays and Sundays weren't all leisure time. Two months ago, Saturday suck got a lot worse.
I am grateful to be back in a Monday to Friday gig.
I just didn't realize how difficult weekends would be.
The weekend my son goes to the dark side is also the weekend my daughter works. That was an over site on my part, I agreed to a change with my ex and didn't think it through all the way. The first couple of weekends, I think I was so excited about the novelty of not having to work that there was a certain spring in my step. I'm not saying I lost the bounce but I am not enjoying all this free time as much.
Saturday is just an insight to a bigger problem.
I don't like to be alone...and sober.
I don't know how I got here. I've never been a girl that needed the crowd or needed to be surrounded by people at all times. And it's sure as fuck not like prior to my ex moving out that I had a swinging Saturday social life. Shrug, so I don't get it. I mean except to say that sitting alone in my apartment only illuminates the depth of personal failure. I try (have tried to) stay in a place of gratitude and mindfulness but the thought comes around...
This is not what my life was supposed to be like at 40, and I don't understand how I am not supposed to be sad or mad or upset or disappointed or pissed off or whatever the fuck this is on any given day.
Shrug. It doesn't help the situation that I recently had to nip a budding relationship that I really fucking enjoyed. The day I met the dude, prior to meeting him, I had already reported to a friend that I felt the pieces of my soul were flinging back together. The blossoming of that relationship only reinforced that feeling. It very, most definitely felt like things were getting better. That I was finally clear of all the dark matter of my divorce.
So sitting here, sober and alone with thoughts, it just makes me want to turn it all off. I don't know why things work the way they do. I don't know how it is that my life doesn't reflect the effort I have put into it. I wish I had answers but all I got is questions. Lots and lots of questions, churning and burning in my head. Some nights are worse than others. At the moment, I wish there I had someone who could deliver me some stiff drinks but then that thought saddens me almost as soon as I have it because that dude did that one night. A bottle of wine at my doorstep with a well-wish to relax and enjoy because I deserve it.
It's all whatever at this point.
It just is.
Sigh.
I don't even have alcohol tonight and it's too cold for me to want to walk up to the Growler. I took a nap earlier and had a lovely evening of Food Network with my daughter. I felt awful after the nap. Thankfully my daughter is good company but she's in bed now. Ironically, I don't feel like talking to anyone I actually know, hence the thought of going to the bar, but it all seems like so much effort.
Meds won't help this, when I was on meds it was worse. I swear to fuck, I wanted to drink more. Not even on any trigger, just like in general, I wanted to drink more. And so I would, because why not. I remember mentioning it to my doctor and he didn't take it seriously. I get that there's probably a level of this that is me needing to identify and work through some deep seeded shit but genetically speaking, I don't have any advantage here.
I hate the big thick tears that come from my heart. Where are they do come from? Why are they still here? When did everything get so god damned fucked up? When does it stop? When does everything positive that I am doing translate to something beautiful? I deserve a fucking beautiful life. I am so much more than any of this.
My heart hurts...all the fucking time.
All!
The!
Fucking!
Time!
I first started having trouble with Saturdays when my ex first moved out and we started bouncing our kid back and forth on weekends. It's a lot of time to try and fill. The thing of it is, it wasn't even that much time. When that started in 2014, I worked a retail job. My "weekend" started Tuesday night, so Saturdays and Sundays weren't all leisure time. Two months ago, Saturday suck got a lot worse.
I am grateful to be back in a Monday to Friday gig.
I just didn't realize how difficult weekends would be.
The weekend my son goes to the dark side is also the weekend my daughter works. That was an over site on my part, I agreed to a change with my ex and didn't think it through all the way. The first couple of weekends, I think I was so excited about the novelty of not having to work that there was a certain spring in my step. I'm not saying I lost the bounce but I am not enjoying all this free time as much.
Saturday is just an insight to a bigger problem.
I don't like to be alone...and sober.
I don't know how I got here. I've never been a girl that needed the crowd or needed to be surrounded by people at all times. And it's sure as fuck not like prior to my ex moving out that I had a swinging Saturday social life. Shrug, so I don't get it. I mean except to say that sitting alone in my apartment only illuminates the depth of personal failure. I try (have tried to) stay in a place of gratitude and mindfulness but the thought comes around...
This is not what my life was supposed to be like at 40, and I don't understand how I am not supposed to be sad or mad or upset or disappointed or pissed off or whatever the fuck this is on any given day.
Shrug. It doesn't help the situation that I recently had to nip a budding relationship that I really fucking enjoyed. The day I met the dude, prior to meeting him, I had already reported to a friend that I felt the pieces of my soul were flinging back together. The blossoming of that relationship only reinforced that feeling. It very, most definitely felt like things were getting better. That I was finally clear of all the dark matter of my divorce.
So sitting here, sober and alone with thoughts, it just makes me want to turn it all off. I don't know why things work the way they do. I don't know how it is that my life doesn't reflect the effort I have put into it. I wish I had answers but all I got is questions. Lots and lots of questions, churning and burning in my head. Some nights are worse than others. At the moment, I wish there I had someone who could deliver me some stiff drinks but then that thought saddens me almost as soon as I have it because that dude did that one night. A bottle of wine at my doorstep with a well-wish to relax and enjoy because I deserve it.
It's all whatever at this point.
It just is.
Sigh.
I don't even have alcohol tonight and it's too cold for me to want to walk up to the Growler. I took a nap earlier and had a lovely evening of Food Network with my daughter. I felt awful after the nap. Thankfully my daughter is good company but she's in bed now. Ironically, I don't feel like talking to anyone I actually know, hence the thought of going to the bar, but it all seems like so much effort.
Meds won't help this, when I was on meds it was worse. I swear to fuck, I wanted to drink more. Not even on any trigger, just like in general, I wanted to drink more. And so I would, because why not. I remember mentioning it to my doctor and he didn't take it seriously. I get that there's probably a level of this that is me needing to identify and work through some deep seeded shit but genetically speaking, I don't have any advantage here.
I hate the big thick tears that come from my heart. Where are they do come from? Why are they still here? When did everything get so god damned fucked up? When does it stop? When does everything positive that I am doing translate to something beautiful? I deserve a fucking beautiful life. I am so much more than any of this.
My heart hurts...all the fucking time.
All!
The!
Fucking!
Time!
Comments
Post a Comment