Comedown.

[ysobelle]

I'm going to put it down to being sick-- so this is Con Crud, hm?-- and very tired, but I'm feeling rather down tonight. Some of it, I'm very sure, is having my good weekend wiped out by $1,800 in repairs and maintenance to my car. I'm very happy to have her back, and the ride is, indeed, noticeably improved, but damn. I really was hoping...ah well. And part of it is some very bad news from friends about things I can't help them with.

I had such a lovely time at Wicked. I truly did. But now, looking back, I feel like I missed something. Like I didn't do all I could. Yet I have no idea what this perceived lack could be. I was surrounded by friends, I was happy, I had a purpose, my work was respected, I heard great music and got to dance, I fell in love with Repo!.... What did I miss?

Perhaps it's that I came home alone again. (No offense meant, of course, to patsytheloomer, who is an excellent pilot and drives The Van Of Holding and Awesomeness.) It's not something I talk about a lot, and it's not something I like about myself, but I do feel this great, gaping lack. Little splinters have been sticking into me all week: the friend request from the almost-comically traumatic sort-of ex, LJ notes, a disappearance from a lover's profile, and all the old, old friends who found me online-- all of whom are now married, with children. And if there were anyone to ask, I would turn around and say, "How did I get here like this? Was there anything, at any point, I could have done differently? Where is my lover? Where is my family? Where are my children? Where is my home?"

Don't get me wrong. I love my business. I love my part-time job-- well, mostly. I love my family and my friends. I love the smell in the breeze today of wetness and awakening green things, and the tease of warmer air. I love the hope of a better day tomorrow, with friends and possibly raw fish. And maybe, just maybe, a new phone that doesn't die on me with soul-crushing frequency. I love many things. I have a good life.

But there are holes that nothing fills, and aches no buck-up-little-camper propaganda glosses over. The feeling of missing something last weekend is just a small concentrate of the meta-feeling: there IS something missing, and that's just how it is.

And the knowledge that I'm not alone in this alone-ness is not, actually, at all comforting. I want people to be happy. I want people to get what they want. I just want to get what I want, too.

Comments

[cypherindigo.livejournal.com]

"And the knowledge that I'm not alone in this alone-ness is not, actually, at all comforting. I want people to be happy. I want people to get what they want. I just want to get what I want, too."

I know...

[scarletwildfire.livejournal.com]

I can sooo relate. Well except to that "where are my children" part.

[freyas-fire.livejournal.com]

I think all of us are feeling that post-Wicked let down....it's such an extreme swing to go from that to back to, well, normal life.

FYI, try a few packets of the Emergen-C stuff...it warded off the crud for me, it might help lessen the crud for you. :)

[elionwyr.livejournal.com]

Oh, honey.

There are people on my friends list that started reading me when my life made a lot more sense. I had a good job (that I hated, but hey), I had the museum work, I was married, I was a homeowner, I had my childhood dream of having a mini zoo at home, I was writing and being published.

There are times when I look around wonder how it could be that I seemed to know what I was doing, I had my act together better, when I was younger. I've stopped raging quite so much about the fact that my ex-husband's life changed very little - very very little - whereas my entire world realigned and I've found myself floundering a lot more than I think anyone at my age should.

This isn't the way it's supposed to work.
(Is it?)

I have had two brief relationships since I've moved out to the middle of nowhere, and what I've learned is that I really want to drive up to my home and see someone else's car sitting in my driveway. I want a partnership, I want someone to be here to hand me a cup of coffee in the morning while I'm struggling to wake up.

I have, and have had, fame (in minor, vaguely ridiculous ways). I've had the fantasy job (and I miss 'my' critters so much).
I just want a Home. I want the Home I've not found yet, and I'm turning forty and dammit, shouldn't I know what I want to be when I grow up, and where I want to be when it happens?

I want to be financially ok. I want a little garden and I want someone to sit on the sofa, watch TV with until I fall asleep on their shoulder.

And I'm writing all this sappy crap out here because it's a sad relief to know someone else gets that.

*love*