But why?

I feel myself asking that question more and more these days. Why am I here? What is happening to me? Why this and that? There is this sense of accomplishment and pain after a good therapy session. You’re exhausted both physically and mentally. You put yourself through the wringer and pulled back more layers. I thought I could take a “break” from therapy. I had made my decisions; now I just want to go live my life. But it’s not just about understanding what's happening around you; it’s about understanding yourself and your reactions in those situations so you can better understand and prepare. I had a rather rude awakening a few weeks ago. I hit a rock bottom I forgot existed. Suddenly, I was that 12-year-old crying on the bathroom floor while the rest of the house slept. Staring at the medicine cabinet with an intention I would never wish on anyone. I remember being in pain back then, but time has a way of dulling the sensation. That and even at my lowest, I had some odd faith in myself. They had created an unloved monster, but they had also created a survivor. And surely, if these idiots could succeed, I would thrive.

I knew I was struggling and was low. Hell, I had suffered from undiagnosed depression for years. So when I tell you I broke, I mean it. The reality that I had lost another home hit me hard, but this time, I didn’t have the blind optimism of youth to hold onto. I fell to pieces on the phone with my supposed best friend. The woman I picked up when she fell apart not a few years earlier, and what did she do? She rushed me off the phone to finish her baking. She had to impress her friends at her favorite bar later that night.

I once commented that my now ex-mother-in-law needed to learn how to be happy alone before she could find a healthy relationship. Now that the shoe is on the other foot, I hate that I was right. The problem is that I was alone for most of my life. I eventually found a home and grew around it, but it became a part of me. It feels like this piece is missing from me. It feels empty, and it will be freeing in time, but the pain is clouding everything. I know it was the “honeymoon” period. I know that I wasn’t being smart. But I felt something that I … I thought I felt something, I should say. The reality of that situation always seems to be eluding me. I thought I finally felt unconditional love. True heart-aching set your nerves on icy fire, love. With someone who didn’t see me as broken. Who wanted me, to protect me, and to build a family with me. But it wasn’t real. All it did was hold a mirror up to show me the truth. I want to be loved like that. I want to know what unconditional love is. I want to know what it’s like to have someone pick me up without hesitation when I break. They won’t hold resentment or frustration buried just below the surface. Do you know how hard it is to try to reassure someone while falling to pieces? The panicked look and awkward hug snap you back to reality. So you start to take a few deep breaths, the “I’m okay” mumbled through tears until you can say it with that sad, sympathetic smile. The one you’ve perfected. It says, “Yes, I’m upset.” with just the right amount of “Oh, you poor thing.” I want to know I matter. That they chose me above all others. Could you imagine being loved like that? I never want to feel this frozen pit in my stomach again. But you can’t, as much as the fantasy is nice to think about. I know better now. I need to stand on my own. Because the only person you can rely on is yourself. I know that sounds so bitter and jaded. But I married a good guy, and even I’m left with nothing. No house, no safety net, just myself, a truck, some clothes, and an RV, which I assume is falling apart at this point (it luckily was not). I’m in more debt than I was at the beginning of all this, now with no plan. He keeps saying I wish I could help. I don’t think much thought has happened past that statement. He kind of offered not to charge me rent for a short time and that I could come over and see the furry little ones whenever I wanted. As long as he isn’t busy, mainly when his new lady friend is over. Which is fine, whatever. But that’s the best you could come up with? We’re sitting on two properties, both with decent equity in each, and that's all you can come up with. I know we are pulled tight, I know it’s a house of cards, and I reap the mess that I sew, but for fuck sake. At least refuse to take rent when I told you I would be late due to an unexpected bill. But no, it’s always phrased as “If you want, you can …” “If you’re tight this week, you can ..” It’s always my choice. And heaven forbid I inconvenience anyone! No, my ass would rather go into debt than inconvenience a man who, time and time again, keeps proving I’m not a priority. He would resent me the tiniest bit when I was in a depressive spiral. I would be on the couch, lost in my head, and the dishes wouldn’t be done, or dinner wouldn’t start. Don’t get me wrong; I know that can eat away at anyone, and he put up with it for years. But this man decided the way he was going to show me love, was through acts of service. Those acts mainly involved taking care of bills and chores, especially when I was in school. The problem is I don’t see those as acts of service, not enough to forgo all other forms of showing love. This is the man who told me I ‘wasn’t the one,’ who I had to beg to marry me twice, who let his friend throw a beer on me in the middle of dinner and not lift a finger to help or defend me. So, I would venture to say I am not entirely alone in my train of thought. In fact, he still pays those bills and cooks those dinners. Granted, there is one less person in the house, but his life hasn’t really changed. But somehow, I was supposed to understand that was his way of saying I love you. He talked about the stress and burden he was under to make those things happen for me. I guess his real gift was bottling those feelings up in fear I would shatter into a million pieces. I wonder if he still feels the same burden. If that is the case, do I still count as the cause of the original stress?

On a side note, this mother fucker took me to an outdoor mall (all be it a nice one, but still) and proposed on a random Thursday in jeans and flip-flops. Which also happened to be what I was wearing cause I had just gotten off a shitty day at work. My hair wasn’t even brushed, for fuck sake. This A-hole had that ring for five years!!! He bought it the first time he decided he didn’t want to marry me. In all that time, the best proposal you could come up with was a mall. You would think the “I love you, but you’re not the one” incident would have warranted me one hell of a proposal, but no. All I’m worth is a gazebo in a mall with a strange abuela that was really exciting for us.

It’s nice that there has been a shift in mindset over the last few years in regard to mental health. I feel like people are a little more understanding now. People who would have called me lazy now realize that I’m just trying to survive. We all went through hell and came out the other side. Your average person was forced to confront some uncomfortable things during lockdown. And now we’re all just trying to make sense of this new world.

(Originally written May 2, 2023)