I had hoped that the one year anniversary of the loss of Jeff would somehow erode the loneliness and terror that filled my heart. That I would feel whole and complete again. That I would learn to just 'be' again. But it hasn't.
Tonight I am filled with self-loathing. Self-hatred. Self-questioning and self-mistrust.
Jeff thought I was kind. Funny. Sweet. Crazy. Quiet (compared to him this was not hard). Smart. Interesting. Looking at myself through his eyes, I liked myself. I liked who I was to him. Now I can only see myself reflected in the other people left in my life....and all I see is an insecure, hypocritical, pain in the ass.
I am a hypocrite. I make my mind up seemingly concretely about something and then change it. I am a preacher and meddler. I tell people to care about their bodies and their families. To do nice things for their wives. To smile more often. It's really none fo my business. I am a complainer. I can find something wrong in essentially every situation even when I have being trying for most of my adult life to train myself out of this habit. I am a geek. I do nothing of interest and live vicariously through my chidlren's childhood. I do not know what I am doing even though I often try to portray that I do. I stumble along, attempting to eductate myself about things that interest me only to lose that interest and zest after I have delved into the subject temporarily. I do not know jack-shit about anything. I didn't finish school. I never finish anything. I am obnoxious. I laugh too loud. I make rude jokes. I tease and think I'm funny when I am not. I am always late. I try to be on time. I curse my parents when they are constantly late. But I am just as late. I get distracted and attempt to fit too many things into small periods of time. I am raising my kids and not really knowing what I am doing. I have no idea what is right. People tell me what they 'think' I should do...and I believe them. Then someone else tells me what I should do...and I believe them. Conflicting ideas, maybe but I don't believe in my own feelings and think that I am shit and my kids suffer because I don't have much conviction in myself or my ways. I have no one to love me. No one to tell me that I am doing okay and that we will figure this out together. No one to hold my hand and tell me that even though I am an obnoxious, hypocritical, not-so-know-it-all know-it-all, they love me and that I am okay. I hate that. I hate Jeff for leaving me. I hate myself for being alone. I hate my life for what is left of it. I hate everything.
Who is insecure in their 30s? I thought you were somewhat at ease at this time in your life. Turns out, at least for me, that's shit. Without Jeff's image of me reflected back, I don't know who or what I stand for and that is pathetic all in itself. I am always telling my six year old daughter to not give two shits what anyone else thinks about her - what is important is what she thinks about herself. What if you don't know who/what you are after everything changes? Does your identity ever return? Who are you after? Do you ever know yourself again?
I want to close the door and not come out. I want to hide and not embarass myself further. I want to tell the world to go away. I want to scream and cry. I want to smash things and myself. I want to be free of myself because I make myself sick....I want to delete this because I think that I sound like a loser. A freak. A depressed sonofabitch who is just messed up and fucked up and full of shit. For all the 'ups' and the road that I have been pushing myself up, if I look hard enough, I realize that I haven't climbed even half of the fucking goddamned hill. I'll never make it. I have no reason to.
THE FIREHOUSE CHRONICLES – EPISODE 16
1 month ago