My mother was always “my person”. She had so much love to give. When I was a small child, I remember how she used to wrap her arms around me, wiping away my crocodile tears and silencing the fear inside me. We would sit in the rocking chair for what seemed like an eternity, and she would gently rub my head. My mother knew how to make it all go away.
The guy I was dating before my mother passed was very good at this, also. His spirit was so caring and loving. He became my “person”. When life was unkind, he would do the same as my mother. My stress would melt away, and I was able to see clearly again. We broke up 2 months before she died. The hole in my heart was immeasurable.
Since my mother’s passing, “losing something” has taken on an entirely new meaning. When I lose something, it’s almost like she dies all over again. I missed out on a job I really wanted…the world ended. I had a very quick, and very toxic relationship, built on loneliness and desperation. It ended, and I died. I’m so tired of feeling. I’m so tired of this constant rollercoaster. It will be 3 years this May, and I continue to find myself here.
I’ve been so focused on being independent lately, I forget what it’s like to be lonely. My circle of true friends and close family do a great job of supporting me, but my person is gone. There’s nothing more gut wrenching than knowing you don’t have someone. I can’t do everything on my own. So many people in my life have reminded me of this recently. I forget to feel it. I forget to feel it because I die every time.
My recent relapse into “the real world” hasn’t been an easy transition. After a 14 hour drive, a night of terrible sleep and a crazy day of life’s bullshit raining down on me, I have come to the end of my rope…again. I’m begging life for an opportunity out of here. I’m never going to make it financially or emotionally if I stay. My lightbulb is about to run out. I’m not sure how much longer my shine will last.
I’m hopeful, though. So hopeful.