It's my turn

Today was an extremely hard day.
It's been that way for awhile...the panic attacks.

Sunday is the day I always give my daughter alone time, but I've been feeling bad in a lot of ways, physically, psychologically, heart and soul.
I didn't want to go today, but she said she needed it, and I know she does. She really does. She blossoms on these days and it's lovely to see, I feel lucky to see it.
So I sucked it up and gathered my things - I have a little list now of things to take and things to do, they're always the same.  But I forgot it was Easter.  The stores I usually go to,  just to walk around and browse, ( I can not spend money right now) were all closed...the holiday.  The movie theater was jam packed and I don't do well with crowds like that.  Why the fuck does everyone go to the movies on Easter? Don't they have to stay home and eat ham and deviled eggs, and watch their ridiculously huge tv's?!  Starbucks was the same, so there was no sitting to read my book.  Powell's, the book store, is next door and unexpectedly it was open so I figured I could go and watch a movie on the laptop.  The earphones were not in the bag, nobodies fault ... so again, no movie.  And yes --------- I forgot my fucking, fucking book. So I sat there and looked at picture books, for 2 1/2 hours, because by then I couldn't read, and tried not to lay my head down on the table and cry because  I was so without tether that it was killing me.

I hate, hate, hate holidays
They are days of heavy loneliness, sorrow.
My daughter doesn't believe in any holidays, probably because they carry the same weight for her.  I don't blame her - our lives have been crazy hard.
But I just want something, anything to recognize - to get through the day with some semblance of normal. Of being like people who celebrate, even if it's crap celebrating.  

I have only one friend here, but life is challenging for her too. I've been asked to join her and her family before, but I don't really know her kids or her relatives, so it's uncomfortable and depressing and stressful. The last two years have been so full of pain and illness and stress, that it's just not the time to reach out to find new friends - I cry if they're nice and I cry if they don't reciprocate. So I've just given up until things get better and I'm so fucked up and lonely right now that - until - makes me cry too.

I've read a few blogs today, of women that I read and care about and participate with in my sincere and, yeah, kind comments. (and I'm not talking about any of you who have shared yourselves with me, welcomed me into your space - you already know how grateful I am, you know who you are and I know I've said that before and it's getting fucking boring, for both of us)  I have begged more than I should have, asking them to read me, take me in and they don't, I don't fucking know why and it eats at me, little bites out of my heart time and time again, because I can't seem to stop reading them, they're good and I care about them but the silence, oh my god, what the silence does. It is humiliating and I've had a shitload of that in my life. Have I done something wrong? Something bad? It triggers decades and decades of this kind of shit. And I know I've talked about all this shit before and that's getting boring too. I've gotten over so mannny things - I've got to get over this, flush the sorrow, it's shitty and it's in the way. Sorry is nowhere in this today.  It's a bad day and everything is dumping on top of everything else.

I don't have to make sense here today. I don't have to be good. I don't have to forgive today.

I'm spitting all of this out because I was crushed by loneliness already today and they, and perhaps lots of you, are happy with family and food and laughter, and I know it's not that way for everyone.   Some others are hurting, but this is my moment, I get to talk about my fucking sorrow, my pain. I just can't take it today, I can't comment, I can't read Facebook - I feel unworthy and ashamed already because there is no comfort in my day, only silence. So many people know my situation and it's another little bite when people don't think of me - after all this time of writing and talking, whether face to face or type or pen, not friend or family or acquaintance would think - Liv is alone, I'll just tell her I am thinking of her.  My email is there, I'm on Facebook, there is a mailbox at the end of the driveway - oh yeah, I forgot, there's the damn phone.  I'm not trying to hurt or call out anyone and I don't need to be taken care of, do not feel sorry for me. I'm not asking for anything, I'm telling you, I'm telling you how it is,  because you are my friends and I need to scream.  I need.

I don't exist.
I feel like my head is going to burst.
I don't want to be me.
I don't want to be here.
I want to exist.

I want a husband, a partner, I want all my children,  I want a family, I want a home. The chaos and the joy and the bother and the frustration and the safety of all of that. The holy imperfection of all that.
Where is any goddam thing that  t e t h e r s me?

Like my beautiful and dear friend Elizabeth speaks so eloquently about falling,     I get to fall down today, it's my turn.