Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Dark Flashes of the Soul

I seem to be in a weird sort of transitional moment.  I continue to see Philip, and we continue to be primarily platonic.  Part of me thinks he is interested; he certainly spends time with me like he's interested.  But I'm less and less confidant that anything will come of it.  Of course, I seem to like him enough that when I spend time with other guys, I mostly just miss him.  But I don't seem to be a priority for him and I don't see him shifting things to make me a priority, so there it is.

I don't think it is just the issue with Philip, but I have these flashes of crippling sadness.  My life feels so pointless.  I feel like such a failure.  I cannot actually believe that no one wants to spend his life with me.  So many people think I'm a good person.  But no one wants to compromise enough to be with me.  And I'm willing to compromise.  I was willing to quit my job and move to Berlin with MaxEarnest.  I would have married John, if he'd wanted me.

I was shopping in a typical United-States discount home-wares store today.  I haven't been in a store like that for a long time.  But they had such lovely things!  The quality of our 'stuff' is so very high.  And I bought lots of stuff I didn't need.  Like a dish brush that is a decorated like a flower with a flower face. A purple spatula.  Did I mention that it is purple!  So much purple is available right now.  I am sure it is a trend and won't be available next year and purple makes me happy.  Some amazingly beautiful glass serving bowls.  They are truly stunning--from Turkey, but a different style than anything I saw when I was there.  And I bought a pedestal cake plate.  And I started to cry.  Because I have no one I could make a cake for.

A lot of people appreciate me.  But, aside from my mom and Dotty (and my cats) no one who loves me.

It's odd.  John and I were both scared we were unlovable.  I think the fact that we shaded that secret with each other is what bound us together. But I loved him so much; I know he was wrong.  And I know he didn't love me that much. No one has proved me wrong.

I know my parents love me.  And now they like me.  But they sure didn't like me growing up.  My parents did the best they could, given the cultural currents of the time.  The "Me generation" wasn't really focused on being parents.  They never stopped lovely me.  But it would have been nice if they'd liked me; empathized with me; listened to me; respected me.  I know I'm too old to blame my parents.  So I guess it is just me at this point.  And there are a few people  who "love" me.  But no one would make a compromise to be with me.  A lot of people tell me I'm one of the kindest people they know.  A lot of people rely on me for help with day-to-day life.  And I think I make some of my clients' lives substantively better.  But if I died, my mom and Dotty are the only ones who would care, or even remember in a year.

So that's the self-pitying, crippling flash of depression.  But it is very short.  I was shopping at that store, and walked past the little-girl row, awash in pink, and it was all I could do not to cry. I want to create a home to share! But then I was past that aisle, and there was a purple blanket that was so soft.  And so I did what so many Americans do; I bought a new blanket. I went to work. I accomplished a couple of things. Sure my old blanket was perfectly fine. But it wasn't purple.  And this one is soft enough to cuddle next to and forget that I am alone.

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