i probably won't hit the "publish" button on this one, but this being my journal, of sorts, i just might.
with the recent War of The Roses feel to this house, i see myself moving about the rooms…picking up laundry here, making some cereal and coffee there…all looking normal. i am upstairs now, taking a break from packing up any unnecessary item in my studio. i feel like i have been kicked and slapped and beaten, though no physical connection was needed. it's been no secret that i've been a square peg in this house for many years. but i guess i hoped for mutual epiphanies…i guess i hoped when i moved downstairs to sleep, that perhaps that would be the wake-up call that was needed. but there was none - no conversation offered. perhaps relief? i spent so many years working at hateful destructive jobs in order to close the gap between income and not-my-child-support going out. now the kids are grown and gone, and i feel kicked. to. the. curb. left to do the cleaning and laundry. left on weekends to find my own way, while a new romance with a boat overtakes the place where my feet and heart once were. could've been a red corvette, i suppose. or a trophy woman. perhaps. who knows, maybe i'm lucky that it's a "thing" rather than a person. it all just sucks. it is the most selfish of selfishness. i am still, apparently "a dear, sweet woman," but have no place left here. having a henry makes it more challenging to move or move about. and to where? when the time came that i couldn't possibly stay in a cubicle one second more…when the time came that the finances didn't dictate a 2nd income…i left my income/freedom behind. was i wrong to not prepare for this future? if so, what was the point of having that particular past? to enter into a relationship with an eye toward failure is ludicrous - why bother? what honor is there in that? so today, i feel utterly cut loose and drifting. today i feel like screaming and kicking holes in walls and smashing china. i want to scream fuck so loudly that the owls fly from my trees and the neighbors many miles away will shut their windows. but today i worked quietly at packing up any and all non-essential studio supplies, and comforting my love, my henry, as he senses sadness. I want to draw my women friends around me like a tight cloak…like a tight hug…while i sob…i want to crawl quietly back to bed…i want to lay face down on my new studio carpet and just let life go over me and do what it will, then pick up the pieces of the mosaic. Perhaps. i don't feel like i want to be stoic at all. i am too old to start this shit over.