The feeling of happiness can vary from person to person, depending if you are a true social butterfly, or a closeted lonely person, pretending to be a social butterfly, to avoid a million questions from well-intended friends, or family members.
Sometimes it comes from people literally being alone, and the feelings of not being good enough, not only for others or more importantly, not being good enough for yourself, seem to be the menu permanently. Or someone can feel alone, even though they have a phonebook full of friends, or maybe they have a handful of who they consider true friends.
They might have blessings up to their eyeballs, and they realize they should be grateful. Some also have a hope for a better future, in which life will be different, nothing like what we live in today. Where true happiness awaits, and abounds for those who deserve it.
I get that, and I hope for that one day, as well. Today, Content, Happy and Joy have gone on a three day weekend, and stepping in as substitutes, are Alone, Self Pity, Guilty and Self Hate.
Hope the other guys come back on Monday, 8 AM sharp.
I understand, that “It’s okay, to not be okay”. I hate thinking back, I hate thinking in the present, so I try to focus on the good, the happy, the hope. But past seems to always win. It thrives in quietness of the night, it slips in the day, when taking a break, or a breather. It seems to scream when I long for quiet time. I think back and wish for a different outcomes, and of course with the only outcome of failure, as the past can never be changed.
So why waste my time, right? Well, it’s the default in my mind. I think back at what I hoped for. What my goals were. I remember at 18, I had aspirations of being a photographer, of traveling, I wanted to eventually be married, with children, and a having an amazingly loving husband.
Steps were taken in the wrong order after all, I started off, getting married early. Oh that heart of mine, naïve and inexperienced, and he called the shots. Insert roll of eyes HERE!
Excited at this new road I was embarking on. I told myself, with everything, there is a learning curve, and eventually things will settle down. Or so I had hoped.
I remember getting so excited, at marking “X” in the Married box. I remember getting butterflies in my stomach knowing he was coming home, or that I was racing home to see him. I also remember the sleepless nights, where I’d walk out of my house, and walk a mile down the road, and hide behind a school, and cry my eyes out. Exhausted, I’d walk back in around five am, to someone who had just a completed a wonderful night sleep. Carpooling to work, for about an hour. There is no worst cruelty, than that of being next to someone you love, and they not wanting to even speak a word with you, knowing and feeling his growing repugnance of me, every day of my life.
Eight years later, I finally took someone’s advice. They reminded me of the saying, “If you love something set it free, if it comes back to you, it’s yours.”
Thinking that time and space might bring him a reality check or a realization that I was a good person, worth fighting for, he’d come back, or he’d ask me back. Never happened. I guess I wasn’t worth it.
Now when filling out stupid applications, I had to search out the dreaded “Separated” box, and angrily mark that sloppy “X” next to that option. A whole new excitement to look forward, is when you realize, that this is a small world we live in. Running into people we mutually knew, and shamefully having to to answer the question, “Where is your husband? They knew the answer to that before they even made it. Initially, I answered, “Oh, he is still in California”, along with the “raise your eyebrows, and give an awkward smile” look and excusing myself from the uncomfortable moment. People can be so cruel.
A year and a half later, and countless of stomach and heartaches, that no longer represented my status. It was now the dreaded “Failed at your marriage” option, that brings all those fuzzy feelings to the surface, better known as “Divorced”.
I hate that box. I think a “Single” box should’ve been enough, in applications. There is no need to have to rub salt in that wound, with the shameful box also known as “Divorced”. When do I get to stop marking that box? Is there a Statute of Limitations that runs out, and I can go back to “Single”? Heck, Bankruptcy only applies for what, 7 – 10 years on your credit? Shouldn’t the “Divorced” status have one as well? (Mental note: Avoid new hair dresser, manicurist, meeting new people going forward, don’t want the “why is she still single, or why isn’t she married?” – phase)
Have you seen when someone throws a rock through a window, and the pieces dangle for a while until they finally come crashing down? I remember that feeling. I wasn’t very well versed with Facebook, as it was a younger generation thing, I finally caved, and created a profile. What was the first thing I did after creating my profile, putting my profile picture as one of me and my dear husband, and uploading all our pictures, of the trips we took, pictures with friends, and family, and couple pictures with friends, and my married to and searching to choose his profile to link up with mine?
Taking a deep breath. Sorry for that run on question In my head it was a lot longer, with specific inappropriate adjectives to add to a certain noun, of whose name we do not speak of.
I looked at my husband’s profile on Facebook, and instead of saying “Married” it was marked, “It’s complicated” – The real shame is that I knew that before it was cataloged as such on Facebook, but silly me, I thought I could work hard at saving my marriage, in working things out. Instead, I found myself signing an official document where the box marked was “Unreconcilable differences”.
Depending on where we are in our life, whether we are on the 18-24 range, the 25 – whatever the next stupid range is, or the dreaded 40+ box is, we can look back and learn from these choices. We can’t see the future, and we can’t go back in time and undo our choices either.
I chose this road, I am on now. I chose Pacific Highway 1. If you’ve been on it you know that it’s beautiful, scenic, lots of stops along the way. Unknown to me at the time, was that it’s constantly being worked on. Especially as you head up North. Now I know from experience you shouldn’t drive it at night, as it gets foggy, and there are lots of dangerous curves, along with signs of “Danger – falling rocks”, or danger curves ahead, but you don’t always get warned about the potholes, that happen due to wear and tear, and bad weather. My road in life, has been like this road, dangerous curves, foggy nights, and narrow, slippery roads, with little or no light on them. Just the light from your car that seem to not do any good due to the intense fog. In trying to avoid all of this at the same time, you forget about the potholes, and they seem to get bigger and bigger. You try to drive slow, but they are so big, the last one you drove over, seems to be as if you might have lost an axle in that last pothole. You either “barely escape” the rocks falling, but you don’t escape the boulder that just crashed on to the hood of your car.
I know I shouldn’t complain, in fact, I have taken each one with a grain of salt. In fact I have a Morton’s 25b. bag of salt in the back seat of my car, for just these occasions. I almost done with it.
(Reminder, pickup another bag at Sam’s Club this weekend – that’s the optimist in me peeking out from the gloomy clouds, saying “You must stock up, many more potholes, rocks, and boulders to come, so you need to be stocked up in salt.”
I push my car out the pothole, I have fallen into, or roll the big fat boulder that just landed on the hood of my car. Get back into my car, check my mirrors, and start the car and keep going.
I can already hear, “What, you want a Gold star, for something we all do already?” No I don’t, and I don’t need someone cheering me on. I just want off of this road. Been driving looking for the next exit, but all I seem to see ahead is a dead end sign.
In the Spanish culture there is a saying, “Mejor sola que mal acompañada.” Translated in English to be “Better to be alone, than to be in bad company”. It is true, I have learned that from my own experience. But, it still doesn’t make the loneliness feel any less painful.
I know that Pacific Highway 1 is a whole different scene at dawn, you might even get to see the sunrise that makes you forget that you drove all night to see this beautiful sunrise. You end up thinking as you close your eyes, and hear the waves on the beach, as they slowly go back to where they came from. You feel the mist in your face, and you open your eyes, and realize it was worth it.
I hope to one day feel this way again. My heart hurts, I hate that I wasn’t enough for either of them. And I realize that I was never enough for me either. That’s three failed relationships. Swell!
Great! Sarcasm has now joined the substitute gang.
Lots to think about.