On Being Single

I was talking to a friend of mine today about being in a relationship. She's also single and kind of loves it. I'm more unsure about how I feel about being single. I love that I have the bed to myself and that I can watch whatever I want on the television without being sighed at. I love that I can hang out with my friends without feeling guilty. I love that I don't have to make nice to his friends when I actually don't really like them.

But it does get lonely sometimes, and that loneliness really screws up my head. It makes me so sad and desperate and depressed that it scares me. I start eying the knives and sometimes will bang the stapler against my arm in order to make that depression back off a little bit.

The problem is, it never does, not fully. It's always there, waiting in the background, knowing that it has the upper hand, knowing it will always be back.

The days that are hard around here, when the kids are acting up or when money is more tight than usual is when I think it would be nice to have some backup. Someone there to catch me when I fall. And someone I could do the same for. Someone to share all the fun times, with, too. All the silly things the kids say and do, all the good things that happen. That's when I miss being in a relationship. A true, trusting, honest relationship. That's all I really want. I think that's all most people want in a relationship - pure trust.

The last time I left myself open to that, I got shat on. It's becoming increasingly difficult for me to allow myself to trust anyone again. I even close my inner self off to most of my friends, just for fear of being rejected. I worry that if they know the real me, the one who says all those horrible things about herself, then they'll think I'm crazy and won't want to be friends with me any more. That's why I hate that voice.

I wonder how I can regain the ability to trust again. Is it even possible? Maybe I should just give up on the idea of being with another person again. I mean, being single really isn't all that bad. Although, I do wonder if I'm just not telling myself that in order to keep any possible partner at bay, in order to make sure my heart doesn't get hurt again.

Alone-time vs. Adult-time.

I had an interesting discussion with my therapist today. I told her how I had felt on Saturday, being home, alone, all day, after hearing about plans my other friends had made where I wasn't included. I don't think I was excluded for any particular reason; I think most of them think I don't have time to do things during the day, so they just didn't think to ask. At least, that's what I'm telling myself, because if I go down the alternate path, nothing good will come of it.

My therapist is under the impression that I don't need alone time so much as I need other-adult time. She's probably right. I get to see friends sometimes on a Friday night, but more often than not, it's just me and the kid and when she's gone to her dad's for the weekend, I don't really know what to do with myself.

Yesterday, I went to IKEA and it was fun. I got out of the house and got to shop for things I need (new dresser) and things I want (kitchen stuff) and just browse thru things I'd like to have some day. It would have been more fun if I'd gone with someone, but it was a last minute thing. Still. It was nice.

Now I just need to make sure I let my friends know when I don't have any plans on the weekends. Maybe it will keep me from spiraling into the self-loathing monologue so frequently.

The Voice In My Head When I Talk To Myself

It's meaner than any real voice I've ever heard. It calls me names.
You're fat.
You're ugly.
You're stupid.
The only person who loves you is your 7 year-old and that's only because she's too young to realize what a complete and utter failure you are as a human being.
You're fat.
You can't do anything right.
You're never going to find a job.
You're too dumb to get the jobs you're looking for.
You're fat.
You should just get a job as a cashier, that's all you're good for.
You're screwing up your kid.
Your life is a failure.
You're a fat cow.
You will never get ahead.
You will always be broke and broken and no one in their right mind will ever want to be with you.
Your friends don't really like you, they just put up with you.
No one likes you because you're fat and ugly and stupid.

I hate that fucking voice. It never stops. Sometimes it's quieter than other times, but it's always there, always waiting for me to slip into the slightest funk so it can start in on me again. It's me, it's who I am, and I hate it.