It’s been awhile – I know. I’ve been struggling with just what to talk about, as there is quite a bit to talk about. I decided maybe I’d just do a blog without all the anecdotes and editing and write straight and literally from the heart – not that all of my writings aren’t written from that exact place but, well, you’re pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down, right?
These last few days have proven to be of a difficult nature as depression has slowly but surely begun to infiltrate its way into my orbit. I have wanted to do nothing more than sleep even though my sleep is continuously interrupted by numerous factors including a young feline that insists on gallivanting through the apartment seemingly geeked up on catnip at all hours of the early morning. I’m doing my best to fight the helpless feeling that accompanies such loss of motivation but I’m also aware that sometimes, being strong also means facing those demons.
Last night, David’s full name lit up across my cell phone with a one-sentence interrogative text. Even the slightest contact with him sends me reeling with anxiety and utter sadness – there’s this little girl inside of me that – and I can’t believe I’m about to write this and put this out there but when I began this blog, I vowed to myself and to my reader, you, that I would be brutally honest even if it means displaying the weaker side of myself, the nitty-gritty, hopeful, borderline delusional, if you ask me, Lindsay. There’s this little girl inside of me that is irrationally holding on to this sliver of longing, of hope, that somehow, by way of a goddamned miracle, that David figured it all out in the last four months and when his name flashes across my cell phone’s large screen, it’s him asking if we can reconsider the divorce.
Ha! And that scoff right there, folks, is the rational Lindsay – the one that fell asleep last night and dreamt of a fight that I’m pretty certain David and I once had – a repetitive fight that left me feeling miserable and degenerate. I would call that the Universe’s way of reminding me that I am in a much better place now – I may be lost but I’m lost in the right direction.
I don’t know – maybe it’s the holidays that have me feeling so low and melancholy, to say the least – maybe it’s the lack of “family.” Don’t get me wrong, I always say my friends are my family and they most certainly are the best kind of family but I’m not going to lie – Being a part of David’s family made me feel like I had somewhere to “belong,” people to go “home” to, to spend this time of the year with. Truth is, though, when you break up with someone, you also, unfortunately, have to break up with his or her family.
I briefly exchanged communication with David’s mother on Thanksgiving Day, which of course, sent me into a blubbering mess for about five minutes while listening to Mumford & Son’s “Where are You Now.” Her words, “I am thankful for all we shared” really hit home – shit, I miss his family almost as much as I miss him – Correction – I miss the man I thought he was would be more of an accurate description.
I’m currently trying desperately to heed my mother’s constant reminder, “It’ll all be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”