Last night, after a few beers and way too many ZYN’s I sat at the dining room table and said:
“I feel pathetic.”
I went on a bit of a rant, quietly, talking to myself about all the ways I haven’t measured up to people that are, for the most part, no longer in my life. As if had I kept up with the Jones’s, I would’ve held on to these friends.
I don’t know if that’s true, and as I type this I my mothers words come to mind: “There are people in your life for reasons, and seasons.”
Life is good.
But somehow I get stuck on people that are gone, people that don’t like me, people that I've been excommunicated from.
I wonder if there’s something, fundamentally wrong with me, and I’m ignoring everyone I KNOW I bring joy to by existing.
While I can logically put this down, while I can say coldly “just keep moving” emotionally, like with my ex, when the voices come on, I feel stuck.
Like if this is “grief” it has cut a deep wound in my soul.
Given that there is nothing I can really do about it, I repeat the same mantra, maybe with different words, like “put one foot in front of the other,” but I sometimes think life would be fuller and brighter and have more joy if I still had these erstwhile loves.
Alas.