All in all, I think I’ve been handling my current situation pretty well. I’ve made a point of going out and meeting new people, and trying to remain upbeat and thinking positively. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Lately, it’s been more of the latter than the former. There have been nights where I sit there, hands kneading my face, lacking the energy or capacity to say anything but “Fuck… shit.” Over and over. I’m so desperate to feel connected again (or more precisely, to not feel rejected) that I end up sabotaging my chances of success. Some days are really fucking hard, where it just starts to feel like nothing can go right or my way, and any time I think it’s going well, I should just wait a minute and it’ll change.
I’m told that it would be healthy and normal for me to yell and scream and cry and be bitter and vitriolic. It probably would be pretty cathartic. Instead, I’m fucking tired all the time. I simply don’t have the energy to give to it. I was just starting to feel confident in my abilities and myself, getting treatment for depression, getting on my feet when all this happened, out of the blue. I’m a fucking mess, and lately nothing has been helping, hence my radio silence (for the record, I don’t like writing these sorts of depressed, whiny posts, so I’ve been opting to not post at all). It doesn’t help that Mickey stopped calling, once she no longer had to in order to keep me informed about the house. I was in the hospital for two days back in April because of what she did. That bill finally came in, after being bounced around and processed by insurance, and after it’s all said and done, I owe several hundred dollars, which I don’t have. I called her to let her know… she never responded, until after three days when I tried calling her again. Not that it really matters, every call is the same: we talk about the house, we talk about the dog, she tells me what she’s been up to, and then I start telling her what I’ve been up to and we either get disconnected or one of her other friends calls and she has to go. Maybe it really is just a spot of bad luck that that’s how it goes every fucking time, but its frustrating to say the least. Because lord knows, it’s so fantastic to find out about all the exciting things she’s doing with her new boy and her new friends and her new life, and then not even be able to respond, assuming I even had the capability of being functional after that.
But hey, it’s for the best. Right?
I turned off comments because I just needed to complain for a bit. I’m sure that tomorrow, I’ll look at the post and realize how bleak and skewed a post it is and possibly even delete it, but sometimes you just gotta rant, you know?