So my husband is spending the night with his girlfriend, and I am alone with our son - not unusual, of late - and I could laugh, a bitter laugh, because he has moved on and now I am here by myself, where I wish to be...or wished to be...
Is it worth it? The loneliness in this moment, so crushing...is it worth the month of happiness? Is it worth the maybe that may never be? The tenuous joy? Is it worth the mere idea that someone could love...me...really? Is the month of believing that I could love and be loved in equal measure...is it worth the sudden knowing that I am not, cannot, will not be?
My mind tells me so. Insidious voices, whispering to me, sibilant, insistent, sweet and seductive, they tell me...that I will not have more than this small measure...the one month of hope...and now it's done.
I know better.
I do.
I know better than to hope. Hope invites the voices in.
I want to talk to him, to this man I love...this man I believe loves...loved...me...
I want to hear his voice and be reassured...but...I am so afraid...to be a bother...to be a burden...an annoyance...to interrupt what must be more important...because it isn't me being needy...
I want to hear him, and feel the stillness that comes when he speaks and I believe and the voices are banished for a while longer...but...
I feel...different...as though something has changed...
And now...now I fear the choice my would-be, want-to-be love will make...I fear he will not choose me, because I am not worth the choosing...not worth him...and he's just looking for the right way to say...to tell me...that another shines brighter, sings sweeter, calls louder...
It's not his fault. The salt I taste now, running down my face...it's my own doing. Cursed brain manufacturing these feelings...but they are just as real as anything else...they always are...and they hurt as deeply as if they were true...and I fear they could be...
The voices tell me I'm not good enough...and I try so hard not to hear them...but they've always been right in the past...haven't they? Didn't they tell me about B? And M? And...others...who I thought could be...hoped would be...but then they turned away...and, just as the voices warned, crowed about, I was alone again...
Oh, this crash was due, I well know...there's always a crash commensurate with the high...no, not commensurate...greater than...ten feet up, fifty feet down...
It is worth it?
It's my own fault. It is. I know better...I do...and these tears? I deserve them, and every one that follows. I've no one to blame but myself.
Or...so I tell myself...
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2 comments:
Very dark...
The voices we talk to ourself in...
the things they say to us...
And her name is Doubt. Self-doubt, most of the time. She is no friend of ours; we must tell her, yes, thank you very much for the advice, now leave me the fuck alone, ok? Hugs to you!
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