« December 05, 2005 | Main | December 09, 2005 »

December 08, 2005

I want to know what became of the changes we waited for love to bring

Last night during a conversation with The Husband he said in a weary voice "Can't you just not think about it for a while?"

Here is my (main?) problem: I can't stop thinking. I don't mean in the schizophrenic or manic sense; I don't have any trouble sleeping and I'm perfectly capable of paying attention to one thing at a time and there are no mysterious "voices" in my head; I mean I can't stop thinking about my fucked up life and how much I do not want to be living it, and even though it's been "long enough" in everybody's mind, and in my own, for me to be back to being sane I'm not; I'm not there yet and I don't know when I will be. Never, maybe?

I thought that this Christmas would be different from the last one in that I would be happy about it being Christmas, but apparently that's not going to be the case, and I don't know what to do about it. To be honest, I don't know what to do about anything right now. It's very strange: I get up in the morning, I get Herself to school, I go to work and I do my job, I come home and I'm a mom ... but I'm not really here. I'm just passing through on my way to somewhere else. Or to nowhere else.

The Husband said to me that I should "find happiness in the little things." Why, because all the big things suck? Thanks for the great advice, but no thanks. Happiness can just keep its hands to itself. And what's the point of trying to find it at all--it doesn't last, it isn't real, and if you manage to get something that remotely resembles it, it will turn out that it wasn't meant to be yours anyway; happiness had the wrong address or it was all just a misunderstanding, a case of mistaken identity.

This week every conversation with The Husband feels like a variation on the theme of I Don't Want You And Here's Why. This is not The Husband's fault; it's mine. Mine, because I won't stop, or can't stop, thinking about it. Thinking about my life and what I did to it--all those bad choices rolling out behind me like Marley's chains; how did it happen that I made so many of them? They hold me down so that I'm forced to consider them, hour by hour, day by day.

Posted by JudyLa at 06:00 AM | Comments (0)