Late to work

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So much of life these days seem just getting by. I had a good experience yesterday afternoon; my meeting went well, I had a (surprisingly) positive supervision with a woman with many personal difficulties, including a sharp dislike of me.  I don’t like being disliked, my tendency has been to work like crazy to prevent anything but glowing positives sent my way. I don’t care anymore. She has a job to do.  I’m less interested in her struggles. In fact, I don’t want any part of them, except for what I’m paid to deal with.

NOT the personality I was seven years ago. I’m not sure I like myself very much, but I’m too exhausted to muster up a different persona.

Last night I went out with two long term friends and colleagues. I like both of them very much. Both divorced 10 years ago or so. They spoke of their certainty that I would “get better” and that “things would improve”.  They talked a bit about their current marriages, both making what appears to me the colossal mistake of driving down this road again.  The outcomes are not terrible.  One husband is constantly caught complaining to others about “the queen” of the house (meaning my friend), my friend retaliates by putting him in his place. The other tells me she feels “loved and cared for” but admits her current partner has not talent for finances, or anything that involves planning ahead. She has to manage all of that; it is simply beyond him.

My reaction was “yuck”. 

My therapist tells me that their is loss in every relationship and I believe it is true. We all disappoint one another at one time or another, part of the condition of being human.  I get that in my head, but I’m so vulnerable now that disappointment is on the surface in every moment, ready to erupt into devastation even as friends make it evident they will stick by me, that no one is threatening my job, that one man at least will send back my wallet, unmolested. True, all right before my very eyes.

 I DON”T BELIEVE YOU! I want to shout. You are going to turn on me. Even friends of many years; it seems stupid, yet it happened. My family, they were a source of deep loss as I grew up- my friends were different. I don’t have this security anymore.

And somehow, deep inside, I have the thought that it is ALL MY FAULT. That can’t be true, i would talk anyone else out of it. Yet it feels VERY TRUE.  So I am moved to tears when some small kindness is sent my way, a compliment, a door opened, a unexpected call, which honestly, don’t come much.  I have a plague of loss, an air about me that reminds people of failure, of metaphorical death, or a scent of what’s wrong in their relationships.  It’s fair to avoid that.  My friends last night-they have more courage than most, they are used to walking on the roads of disappointment, so they have developed a certain strength.  

I teeter on the brink of pure hopelessness. Not always, but this morning.

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