the infinite heartbreak


I’m crying.  For the second time in about 14 hours.  It hasn’t happened in a while.  Such emotions have often caused me to do crazy things–things that expanded my heart and also invited chaos into my quiet life.  And maybe last night’s rash decision was no different.

When you find yourself googling shit about your mental health at 1 am, that’s troublesome.

But today, this is what did it.  I’ve seen it before, but a friend’s friend reposted it in a call for reading recommendations–and I just so happened to be binging on books this morning.  A rare thing for me, these days.  I read it while drinking my favorite version of boba: jasmine milk tea.  And it reminded me that I don’t have them enough.

For me, the post underscores this idea that–we all think we have time–when we really don’t.  That those precious things and moments and people disappear faster than we think–that we waste so much of our lives not being present during these relatively rare events.  It made me love my small little jasmine milk tea even more–made me sad I’d slurped it down so quickly at first.

But–really–this was on my mind already.  Because of last night.

Sometimes, I get this feeling that I am going to be forever alone–that no one would give any kind of a shit if I left this planet.  That the only person I ever loved with my entire heart–who ever loved me with her entire heart–has been gone for a decade plus, and maybe I’m just never destined to find my family again.  To find great love.  To have those dyed-in-the-wool friends.

That isn’t to say that I am not, actually, loved.  I know I am.  And it’s not to say I don’t have friends.  I do.  It’s just that, too often, I feel like I don’t–that I’m not.  Because everyone is so scattered–racing around–and I seem to be the only one yelling, “WE DON’T HAVE TIME.”  I seem to be the only one who sees us falling apart and rifting and not being here.  And I get so frustrated and sad about it.

But I’m just as guilty.  That loneliness hit me hard last night.  But I realized it was mostly just grief.  Another fucking headpunch that I didn’t see coming.  That invaded what had been a decent night.

I had already earmarked this weekend as a massive self-care weekend.  Not just Netflixing and eating tacos.  No.  I was going to plot out the things I wanted to invest in.  But that activity felt even more urgent last night as I am not one to wallow in misery for long.  If I’m doing something that furthers my unhappiness, I change it.  One of my exes never understood that about me.  But it’s a relatively new thing in Almaland.  Something that started when my mother died.  Because I stopped thinking I had time.  So indulging bullshit became unacceptable.  And that meant I became somewhat unreliable.

But, actually, if you pay attention, it’s a pretty easy thing to predict and is actually pretty reliable.  I will bail if I don’t see things improving.  I will give something a chance or two, but then I’m out.  I think my ex thought I was hasty.  That I didn’t give it enough of a chance, but then, he had absolutely no idea what I went through.  Mostly because I was incapable of saying anything except–this SUCKS and I can’t do it–and he saw it as me just giving up.  Not me fighting like Hell FOR me.  For once.  And I suppose that’s part of why we fell apart all those years ago.  Because in the throes of that shit, I need to just bolt.  And I need it to be okay.  I need that feeling to be okay.  And it wasn’t for him.  It was a disappointment instead.  But it had less to do with me and more to do with him.  And I figured that out years after, after feeling guilty and ashamed for honoring that emotion–for honoring the intuition that it was not going to be better and it would kill me if I stayed.

In the end, that was a blessing too, though…because if he wasn’t able to see that then, he would never be able to handle me.  And I knew that.  And I think that’s why I slowly withdrew.  He broke up with me, but as much as I was processing my next move and healing my heart after that trauma–I was unconsciously bolting from him.  Because I knew that.  So, he did me a favor.  And it took me a long time to be grateful for that.

A while before I met that ex, I had a night like last night.  It was my birthday, and I was in that forever alone mindset.  I wrote a craigslist ad quoting Donnie Darko, for fuck sake.  And it brought lots of interesting detours that still exist to this day.  But mostly, it proved something to me.  I’m only alone because I’ve embraced alone so much.  In the beginning, it was because there was no other option.  I did it to survive.  But now?  Now I do it because it’s what I know.  I actively choose it, even though it often underscores that heartache inside me over being a forgotten child, and now, woman.  And last night, I realized I’ve been actively choosing the shit that has been hurting my heart so much lately.  The lie that I am not worth loving.  The lie that it’s better to be by myself.  The shit I got from being abandoned because of alcohol and death when I was so young and so perfect and had no idea who I was or that I mattered.

All that time wasted.

Man.  It just breaks my heart.

Trauma is a fucking bitch.

So that reminder today was a good one.  Reach out.  Stop giving shit your time.  Drink all the bobas you can.

Last night, I probably did something unwise.  I joined a dating app I hadn’t heard about before–convinced it would be an utter shit fest.  To my surprise, there are actually plenty of great guys out here.  (Just not on OKStupid!).  And oh, hey–a bunch of them like me.  The app is female oriented, so you only connect with men you like.  And the ball’s in your court to email first.  Which I usually do when I like someone anyway.  But on OKC, the guys who like me are ones I don’t like.  Or the same assholes I always attract.  And the ones I reach out to are the same patterns who do what causes me the most trauma.  This app is cool because it’s not too in-depth.  A few photos, 300 words.  Do you like this person enough to say HI.  And there’s a friend option too.  So, I can use it to meet men and women platonically.  Something I really need, I think.

I’m actually pretty heartened.  I haven’t swiped right on any writers either!  I didn’t like them!  Just teachers and tech guys.  I’m optimistic–mostly because I have zero expectations.  And I’m not aiming for forever.  Too much pressure and not realistic.  But it doesn’t mean I can’t still try.

I think that’s what I want the next chapter in my life to be about: trying.


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