Uncertainty

As I sit here.. in the dark.. with only the light of a candle behind me, heavily medicated because of all the physical pain I have been having, the effects of the medication starting to show.. my emotional pain seems not to be relieved by such meds. 

It has been a hectic, emotionally charged past few days. My daughter leaving with her father on vacation, some "news" about some things in my life, a "business trip" accompanied by people I really don't like, and the emptiness I feel inside, the fact that in just a little over a month I will turn 35 and am nowhere near where I thought I would be neither physically, emotionally or financially. Too much for an already vulnerable heart. 

I sit here, in darkness, because that how I feel inside. Unlike right now, where I have the glare of the screen and the candle behind me, inside I have no such light. Nothing to show me the way, nothing to say, no matter what, there's always light. Nothing. The amount of sadness in me isn't normal, isn't right. During my trip, I sat in the lobby every night for a couple of hours. I like to people watch. One thing I noticed was the amount of couples around me. Either licitly or not, they were there, enjoying themselves, enjoying each others company, loving or lusting each other. I tried to remember the last time that I had that with someone. The last time I was 100% into that person, that I could be me, that I wanted to be with someone sexually. I could not remember. Maybe, it was with my ex-husband. Maybe. I actually doubt that. Maybe it was with Mateo. Maybe. Honestly, I can't say that I have ever been that with anyone. 

On another night I observed a family. Their interaction made me feel like I had missed something. The mother, very loving, the father even more. The way they engaged was amazing. So, I tried to remember if my mom or dad had ever been that with me, together, as one, not individually, but had I ever had a similar interaction with them. I don't know if I was too young to remember of if it never happened, but I couldn't recall ever having that. It was always my father showing me the love and my mother the cold one. If ever she showed some emotion it was quickly followed by something negative. I remember being blamed and made feel bad for the stupidest things. On one occasion, my mother had just painted her nails, but it was time for her to take me to some gymnastics class, I really didn't even want to go, but I went. Anyway, as she was dressing her polish got ruined because they weren't dry yet. I clearly remember her becoming very upset and blaming me for her ruined nails. I think back now and realize, it wasn't my fault. She knew she had to take me and yet she chose to do her nails knowing she probably wouldn't have time to let them dry. Yet, I felt bad and even cried, feeling guilty that I had upset her. 

On our last evening, I saw an older lady. She sat right in front of me and I saw my future. There was deep sadness in her eyes. She was alone. She wasn't even reading, texting or looking at her phone. She was just there. People would walk right by her and not even notice her. At first, I thought she was waiting for someone, then as the minutes went by realized she wasn't. So, I went up to her and said hello. She gave me this look of astonishment. Like she wasn't expecting for anyone to talk to her. I asked if she would mind if I sat next to her and she said no. We engaged in a nice conversation and thought, wow, this will be me. She had gone down to the lobby because she felt too alone in her room. The presence of other people, even when they did not acknowledge her made her feel less so. Again me. She had no family, her kids had grown and moved out, she was alone. At the end of our convo, as she excused herself she thanked me. 

The one difference, between her and I, she believed in people. She had not been hurt by life like I had. She welcomed people in her life. Something I do not do, I can not do. Even when I try, even when I try to not to let people get to me, they do. If the encounter would have been reversed, if she would have come to me, I probably would have excused myself. What was the difference? Either way she would have been pleasant to talk to. Why wouldn't I have let her "in"? 

So, as I sit her in the dark, I wish I could be someone else. The person that I am now just doesn't belong. Maybe she has never belonged. Isn't missed. Isn't loved. Isn't appreciated. The person I am now, breaths because she has to, not because she wants to. I am not happy. I am sad. I am alone. I am hurt beyond repair.