I just had lunch with the parents and it was fine. Nothing too snotty happened. The fact I was on the verge of tears the whole time may have kept them from starting something too. Although a few big juicy drops snuck out on me anyway. Thinking I've got my mom right here I ask, "Did you get weepy during menopause?" She replies, "I still do". Fuck me.
We get back and there is funky ass spoiled milk smell in the kitchen so I start to pick up stuff and take out the garbage. I see a couple of dirty dishes on the table, a steak knife and glass. Grabbing the glass without any thought, I take notice of the knife. And just for that brief second it crosses your mind. But I let it go of the thought just as fast, I'm nothing if not a wimp.
Where does this self-destructive nature come from? And why do we take ourselves down paths that we know are just dead ends? Going into menopause has brought back every horrifying feeling and tendency that I ever had in puberty. The obsessive thoughts and unrealistic expectations have reared their elephant's heads at me to distraction. Maybe 2 weeks a month I feel normal. Normal being relative of course. All this quality alone time I have does not help matters at all.
These are the thoughts the race through my heads whenever they get a chance: Why do I love so hard? Please quit telling me that there is something wrong with me. I'm stuck and I don't know what to do. I'm not a joke. I'm not a freak. Please leave me the fuck alone
I believe a certain amount of us will just got lost along the way. And I would give my left leg if I didn't feel this way. I see hope and potential all around but when I have to fit into that peg, that's when the trouble starts. Substituting your reality for mine, trying to fit in, it's all a meaningless exercise. Look at the person sitting alone and you'll find the one who longs for their own group. And be careful of the quiet ones, they'll find their voice some day.
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