I don’t spend much time feeling sorry for myself, but tonight is one of those nights.
Maybe it was work being a rolling clusterfuck of IT issues all day. Maybe it was my bus running late and thus making me miss my connection so I ended up waiting around in the cold at the downtown station until my fingers were numb. Maybe it’s because I feel bad keeping my dog cooped up so many hours of the day.
I’m getting some writing done (less than I would like) and my painting class starts tomorrow. These are good things.
I have supportive friends and a decent job that keeps me homed and fed. Also good things.
I have the bestest of all best dogs as my loving, faithful puppy companion.
But none of that stops the nights that creep up with longing, the need to have someone who has my back and holds my hand aching down to bone.
Admittedly, I can’t say I’ve ever had that kind of unconditional support in the entirety of my life. I’ve always been the supporter, the encourager, the soother, the arranger. I’ve held the emotions of others as more vital than my own far too often. I’ve accepted the weight of emotional labor because I fear I am useless (worthless) otherwise. That’s a special kind of loneliness.
I don’t want that. What I want is someone to invest in me for a change, to believe in me and support me and be kind to me. Someone who hears my dreams and says, “if that’s the plan, let’s do it!” and stands with me to make it happen.
Tonight is for melancholy.
Tomorrow, I promise, my head will be back in the game.
Also published on Medium.