When I leave my legacy, which will be left?

Everyone says it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. But I’ve tried to live my life like I want, I’ve tried to live for myself. It doesn’t work. Everyone wants to celebrate the woman that speaks her mind, that is strong, that fights for what she wants. But everyone wants that as long as it conforms to the woman they want.

No one wants the broken woman

No one wants the woman who shows no weakness.

No one wants the woman who speaks clearly.

Or no one just wants me to be me.

Everything I think I know about myself I’m learning has been wrong. How I’ve been able to keep myself alive this long baffles me if everyone is to be believed. I’ve tried to be myself. My Mom didn’t want me as myself. My soulmate didn’t want me as myself.

I guess I should really just listen to everyone – who cares if I am happy. I keep seeing flashes of happiness while someone tries to be someone they aren’t. Or I see flashes of happiness before someone sees who the real me is.

You read “You deserve Love.” You read “You are not unlovable.”

Your told your difficult. Your told others can’t love you if they spend time with you. For 32 years I fought it. For 32 years I thought I deserved to be happy.

Life will be easier the day I just accept I will not get to be happy.

Life will be easier the day I just give up.

Friday night

Friday night. Once a thing enjoyed now the weekly dread.
Friday night. Where the happiness and love disappears.
Friday night. If your fortunate, he doesn’t come home.
Friday night. If your lucky, he comes home happy.
Friday night. If your unlucky another problem you get to solve.
Friday night makes me desperate for Monday.

Keep on rocking

My graduation class for highschool picked “Keep on rockin (in the free world)” as our grad song and I never understood it.

If you listen to the lyrics… One part always stood out to me.

I see a woman in the night
With a baby in her hand
Under an old street light
Near a garbage can
Now she puts the kid away,
and she’s gone to get a hit
She hates her life,
and what she’s done to it
There’s one more kid
that will never go to school
Never get to fall in love,
never get to be cool.

I didn’t understand why my class would choose something that is literally talking about a junkie tossing a kid out.

Lately… Two lines of that song keep repeating. Over and over.

She hates her life,
and what she’s done to it

Graduation might have been over ten years ago now… But I finally identify with parts of our song.

While I may not *entirely* hate my life. My four points of light block out what otherwise would be soul crushing darkness.

It feels like all my life I’ve only lived to spare others pain. When does mine go away?

When your done you feel it in your soul. That butcher paper across your brain. Sometimes it’s a quiet moment when you realize it. Sometimes it hits you like a freight train.

But you know. You feel it. Maybe autopilot has been kicked in for so long you can’t remember if you already knew it, or it’s just been simmering at the back of your mind.

I can feel the thoughts, it’s a weight in my head. I become annoyed with myself because the only one who can change things is me, but I feel like I don’t deserve the change. If everyone else is happy with the status quo don’t the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?

She missed him

She missed him. It was the simple things now that reminded her of him. Things that had lost meaning for a long time. The sound of a Skype call connecting, the rush came back… The memory of his face on the screen.

She missed the way he smiled, the way he scrunched his nose and the way he looked when he was bashful.

She could remember again, the sound of his voice when he cared…and now it was getting harder to remember the sound of his voice when he didn’t.

The feeling of losing your soulmate, and that person now being just out of reach…it was one that had begun to hang heavy on her mind and soul.

Day dreams now included the life they had planned together. But it was the little things…

It was playing the video game they used to, walking down the same path as before but this time there was no comforting knowledge of a friend beside.

It was missing the sound of his voice … Missing the way it sounded when it laughed like it had before. When she could feel warmth and seeing in his eyes the light that shines when you love someone.

She tried to remind herself that as hot, and deep as it had gone … Was as cold and far away he had eventually became.

The memory was keeping her alive now. She wished she could tell him how she felt and magically everything would be okay. But that was no longer an option.

She missed him. Her heart missed him. Her soul missed him. Her very core missed him.

Who am I?

I, once upon a time. Would have called myself a good Mom. A good wife. A good person. Right now all I can hear is the static of my failures.

The reminder of how horrible I am in my soul being burned into my ears. I spend three hours homeschooling the kids, how dare I not be cleaning. I ask my partner for help, and get asked “what do you want me to do? Quit my job? If you can’t handle this let me know.” When the reality is, I just wanted an hour even, of being able to relax without someone, anyone making any demands.

I was so mentally and emotionally exhausted before Covid-19, I felt it in my very core. Isolation, in theory, would be a beneficial thing… A partner, home. It turns out the kids truly aren’t really what I’m exhausted from.

I’ve discovered the truth of a person since self isolation began. The truth I knew and the truth I tried to ignore for a long time. I have no idea which way is up, or who I personally am. However it’s time to figure me out…remind myself of who I am, see the good I do and try not to let the static get to me. If I just try hard enough maybe the static will turn back into music that feeds vs kills my soul. Even as I type that I don’t believe it to be possible. Do I even want to hear it?

I’d complain, but no one is listening.

My Papa always says that. It’s …comforting in its own weird way.

If your honest with someone, you care. If you care, you don’t hurt them. The paradox comes in at – but the truth will hurt them. If your pretending the jabs don’t work, if your pretending the comments don’t hurt, the indifference doesn’t hurt…. Apathy is truly the opposite of love. Not hate.

What does it say though, that the person who knows it hurts… Keeps doing the same thing?

Is the love over when you pretend you care? Or finally admit you don’t. Just because you need to pretend for awhile does that mean you don’t care? Or that you love them enough to hide how you truly feel?

I feel like I could just get through these thoughts if my brain didn’t get the zaps. It hurts too much to focus… And yet I have too in order to navigate these heavy feelings. It takes all my energy just to pretend to be alive still, so isn’t that enough? How long can I keep up the charade of being normal and trying to comphend the stimulus exploding at me at the same time.

It reminds me of something so dumb I have to rethink of it. But maybe that’s my brains way of processing. I remember Magneto saying “If you’re using half you’re concentration to look normal, then you’re only paying half attention to whatever else you’re doing.” I’m giving all my energy to pretending I’m not depressed. So I must not be giving any attention to anyone.