It’s amazing how you can feel so great one minute, and so horrible the next. It’s been a tumultuous week between work and home.

We’ll start with Christmas. I got called to work for a bit, but it really was just a bit because the baby had other plans, and we were in and out in a jiffy. I came home to open presents and make a soul-warming dinner for my family and tried to maintain my low hopes. Let’s just say that that plan served me very well. I was not disappointed because I didn’t let myself hope.

The next day, another baby decided to make her way into the world, but she also had plans different from those of us already earthside, and even though I left on the 26th, she wasn’t born until the wee hours of the 28th. I slept quite a bit after that, and because I was a zombie, I didn’t interact a whole lot with my littles.

The day after I got home, I started to feel wonky, but I had too much to do to let it get in the way. The 29th was a 30th birthday celebration for a friend, so we had to do it up, I mean really! The night was good, but brought a lot more emotion than I had planned for. Topped with the previous days’ events, I was close to buckling under the weight…

Now it’s New Year’s Eve… and because I’m *this* close to buckling, the glutton in me wants to just have my feet kicked completely out from under me. So I ask the question that I can’t get past…

“Why don’t you love me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does that make you sad?”


“Do you want to love me?”

“I don’t know…  You deserve to be loved…”

It sort of makes me want to cry… and hit him, and drink, and sleep. I only gave in to the urge to ask after he told me he was also not spending new year’s eve here at home, but at the neighbor’s, where he also spent the majority of the previous night “watching football.” Now, I know I am sick, but really?  Really?

I want to call bullshit…  How do you not know if you even WANT to love someone? How can you say I deserve to be loved, and that I’m “almost perfect” but you don’t know know if you WANT to love me? I meanm, pardon my french, but what he fucking fuck?

I try so fucking hard…  Whenever I go out shopping, I think of him. Whenever I make dinner or think about what needs to be done around the house, I think about what he would like most, and what would make his life the easiest…  I give my everything to just about everything I do except for maybe scrubbing the tub. Scrubbing the toilet? 100%. That’s just gross, otherwise, but not so much with the tub. I feel bad when I do anything less. I feel like it will fail and it will be all my fault for not committing and giving 100% – if I don’t give 100%, who will and when they don’t, what right do I have to to be upset when I didn’t either?

I feel as though I am sitting on a pedestal… Not because I’m so much better than anyone, but because no one can get close to me. Lately The Force and several key players on my stage have told me that I’m special, that I’m important, and doggonit people like me… And yet, I still feel so very, very lonely…

I know I can do anything… and if need be, I can even do anything by myself. I know that. It doesn’t mean that I want to, or even that I’m okay with it. Accepting a thing doesn’t mean you have to be happy about it, but rather that you don’t continue to fight it. Reality keeps crashing in, and it seems to be screaming that I’m going to have to get used to being alone… That I better find a way to be okay with being loved by othes, but never anyone all to myself.

I don’t know if I can do that, but I have no choice but to try. I can either be miserable with him, or happy by myself… and my littles deserve so much more than my misery.