I’ve always loved to read. Getting lost in another, more exciting life has always been a favorite escape.
Now that my son is grown and independent; I have to get back to what I was planning before I became a parent. I’ve had a year of emotional solitude. Daily meditations and art therapy. I should have an idea by now.
Depression is a demon I battle regularly, and self-doubt tags along. I’ve often wondered. Maybe I’m not the hero of this story. Maybe I’m a supporting character and just here to help someone else achieve their dream and or destiny. The side-kick who does all the dirty work and takes most of the damage while the hero revels in glory. The prop mistress who makes sure the actors look good.
The dilemma is always the same, philosophical lament. What is real and who am I?
I’ve all but given up on the possibility of acquiring a life partner, that’s human. Animals don’t lie and are much more forgiving than most people. Most of my past relationships ended because the other person wished I was someone else. They could have just ended things gracefully. “Hey, you’re a cool person, but this just isn’t working for me.” I’d be sad, but I’d get over it. But noooooo! Instead, they try to coerce and manipulate me into what they actually want. I’m not a fucking, fixer-upper house. Then, when I refuse to be herded and corralled into their fantasy box. They become hostile and outright abusive. I’m tired of being treated like a rental. It’s almost the same with “friends”. They love me, as long as I’m behaving and playing the roll they’ve chosen for me. If I dare to improvise or go off script completely… My company is no longer required or desired.
I’m enjoying this monk-like existence. I eat when I’m hungry. Sleep when I’m tired. Meditate a lot! Play with my cat and paint when the muse desides I’ve had enough sleep and calm. I try to visit friends often and to stop being so anti-social.
I was bullied and teased a lot, as a kid. No one cared. I was being a cry baby and begging for attention. In the 70’s we had Evel Knievel. No helmets, no knee pads and little, if any supervision. Parents smoked and drank in the car while we wrestled in the back. I learned early on. People are assholes and don’t care. I used to dream of becoming a hermit. Living in the wilderness. Away from the general public. Well, I got my wish, sort of. I’m pretty much a hermit, but I live among the people I tried to escape. You see, I’m invisible until I’m needed.
Every dream and plan I’ve ever had has either withered on the vine or transformed into a monkey’s paw nightmare. I’ve stopped believing that the Universe will provide me with blessings to help me on my path. I used to have hope for wonderful things to happen when I met new people. They usually turned out to be migrating souls who were just looking for a place to rest and feed. There’s my Halloween costume! A hungry soul feeder.
I find myself sleeping a lot. I want to paint or create something! At least with massage, I’m helping people. I’m just so tired.