It Creeps Up on You

April 10, 2010

Yesterday was an excellent day. Even knowing I would be working overtime today, which I was also looking forward to, until 1am, I had a great day.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened, which, I suppose in and of itself, is out of the ordinary. I came to work, had fun with my friends, as always, went home, spoke with John, as always, and even got to speak with him for longer than I have all week.

So why I ended up crying myself to sleep is beyond me. Wait, let me rephrase that. HOW I ended up crying myself to sleep is beyond me.

Not even that makes sense. Whatever.

Anyway. I got off the phone with John, uploaded some photos to MySpace and sent him a photo, talked a little bit to my nephew, who is just getting over a spell of suicidal tendencies, listened to some music.

I was about to go to bed, and suddenly, life hit me. Hard. Not anything new, though, just....a whole load of memories that I try to drown out by working as much as possible, spending time with my son, and if all else is gone and I am alone, drowning it in Wild Turkey.

This last effort has only been in place for about a week now. I know, consciously know, that this is not right. I have never been the type to drown my sorrows. I hardly ever drank at home before, much less alone. Drinking alone is never a good thing. Alcohol seems to drag the depths and bring screaming those things which I try so hard to not remember. Not necessarily forget, just not remember.



My mother constantly tells me that she doesn't understand how I keep going. I've heard from friends that I am a strong person. Even my ex-husband used to yell at me because he says that I would be okay with out him, that I didn't need him, that I was too independant.

I think that people misinterpret this.

I am too weak to allow myself to wallow for long, because I fear the alternative too much. I fear not being able to pick myself back up again, the nights of sorrow if I think too much on these things, the mornings that bring no more light than the midnight hours, the tears, the screams, the debilitating emptiness that ensues pondering my past.



I don't know what triggered it. But something....I ended up sitting in my chair, finishing off the Wild Turkey, listening to Adam Lambert and Daniel Merriweather and Il Divo and Evanescence and thinking about everything. I don't even know where it started, but I know where it ended.

Everything. From the guy I lost my virginity to leaving me because I would not agree to a threesome, to the next guy who ended up "taking his birthday present" while I was passed out at the birthday party I threw him for his 21st, to the guy who said he loved me but was betrothed to some girl in the middle east, to my marriage and being thrown against the wall and down the stairs, then him forgetting that he had a family and trading us in for television, to Robert, who went beyond the worst kind of mental and emotional abuse and gave me an existential crisis because he had a peculiar talent of ignoring someone so completely that they ceased to exist, to the miscarriage, laying on the couch for days, crying my eyes out until I was so sick I couldn't hold anything down and the real meaning of emptiness filled me with an oxymoron. I was literally exploding with emptiness.

And that was where it ended....where it ended last time, with me crying myself to sleep and having nightmares of days gone by, waking to the acute knowledge that there is a life that is supposed to be growing inside of me right now.



This is why I busy myself with anything and everything....because I fear the silence, the loneliness, and most of all, the emptiness.