Late at night, when I lay down to sleep, sometimes, okay, a lot in recent days, a depression falls over me. A loneliness, and ache, and I feel so isolated and alone in this world. I know I’m not but I can’t help it. I’ve never pegged myself as ‘needing’ a man to complete me or validate my existence. But I find myself at a point where I want someone to celebrate in my accomplishments with. Someone that I can appreciate and he can appreciate me.
I know, it all sounds very silly, but at night, a time when, in the past most of the abuse happened I’d like to feel protected. And in this world I don’t feel very protected or like there’s anyone who will stand up for me other than myself. I know this is a myopic viewpoint and that it’s simply not true. That I have friends who do it all the time. But I want someone to defend me, to love me for me and not be scared of the fact I do have a bipolar diagnosis.
Of course, maybe I’m scared of the fact I have a bipolar diagnosis. Maybe I find myself unwanted or undesirable, and if that’s the case why would anyone else want to take the chance. And if I’m completely honest with myself I know there’s a lot of that going on. But at 37 I find I’m turning over a new leaf.
I’ve never been much for dressy clothes. My style has always been my own. T-shirt and jeans. A brush through my hair and I’m done. But I decided to shake things up a bit. I went out and got my hair cut and colored. I bought some new clothes, I even got make-up and some jewelry. I hate shopping. So I bought these wedge boots and wore them once. Dear Lord they nearly killed my feet and me in the process. But I felt good, I felt confident and I was ready to take on the world. I’ve even included a few pictures of me at Conglomeration (a small scifi Con here in Louisville).
This last year has been really great. The compliment I got from my publisher yesterday made me feel really good. And my writing is stronger than ever.
A guy even flirted with me and told me I was cute. And he was attractive and funny and smart. So you know, I feel more confident and sure of myself than I have in a very long time. I know I’m 37. I know I want to be in a relationship. But I also know I don’t have to sacrifice who I am and what I believe to be in one.
Perhaps I am high maintenance. But not in that diva, bitchy way where I think the world revolves around me. But in that I need patience, kindness, and lots of love because perhaps my road hasn’t been as smooth as some of the others around me.
But then I believe everyone has a story. So put their lives on blast for fame and glory and get infamy in return, then complain about it. (I can’t watch the Kardashians, I’m sure they’re good people but they come off as overindulged and entitled and that is something that I can do without)
Having gone to bed hungry and woken that way I can say what I have now has been worth it. And as I lose the weight and the emotions come to the surface, like late at night I just have to ride it out until morning when I can talk to someone. And my dad (John) is usually where I start. He recently lost 155lbs. And even though he’s quick to strikeout emotionally, he makes amends these days. And it allows me to be more emotionally honest with him than anyone else in my family.
And by emotionally honest I don’t mean being a bitch, I mean sitting down and telling him he hurt my feelings and taking responsibility for my part in whatever may have happened. It makes for a better living arrangement.
I wish I could do that with my mom, but she’s always right and there’s no two ways about it. But then I guess everyone’s mom is that way. But I know on a good day she’d give me the shirt off her back and anyone else’s who happened to be standing there.
You should know I love my family, even though they’re a dysfunctional lot and even though they’ve hurt me (as I’m sure I’ve hurt them), I would do anything for them.