The morning before my birthday. The reflection for this year is nothing different than years in the past. As always, the melacholic weepiness of my personality runneth over the cup. Eh.
I hate to admit that of everything that I am, of everything that my closest friends see me as...I still cling to one belief. That I am missing a man in my life. A partner to experience our lifetimes together. I get embarrassed that I'm lonely for someone. I would never fault anyone that sentiment. I would understand and try to comfort him or her that perhaps it's just a matter of turning around one day and there she or he will be. But myself? Forget it. I chastise myself for wanting someone, desiring him, wishing he were here to "complete me." Such frivolous emotion! I smack myself and reprimand myself for being so wishy-washy, especially since I know I'm so fucked up that noone in there right mind would want me nor should I want anyone until I'm fixed.
But still, I wonder......I wonder if I've met him already. Someone from my past or present life. Or if he'll be that guy who decides to go to the dogpark tomorrow when I take Jolie. Or am I destined to be one of those few that will never partner up.
When I was younger, I held a firm belief that every person had a partner in this world. We were not designed to go it alone. I guess the old biblical ark belief of animals two by two surviving a devastating flood really spoke to my soul. But on the eve of my birthday, I just don't think that's the truth anymore.
Before life happens, we have these naive thoughts. Childish thoughts. Everyone gets along no matter our differences. Our parents are always right. I will grow up and be whatever I want to be. Adults are perfect. We all fall in love and it's always forever.
Then we experience the world and age. There are those like myself that have problems re-examining and adjusting those preliminary beliefs. I can't, or maybe won't, reconcile those idealistic hopes with what has happened in reality. And I'm left sad and angry. I guess that's why I sometimes feel I've never matured.
Going back to the partners thought.....After thirty-six years of life, I know there are lonely people and solitary people. Not the same thing. Partners don't exist for the solitary people by choice. And the lonely...well, maybe we're just fucked up in some way. I know that's harsh and I've insulted many, but examine your life. Are you functioning well? Successful? Happy? Do you have relationships? But do you still go home to your own existence and find yourself perfectly content with living alone and not committing to anyone? Then you're a solitary person. But if you're involved with hundreds of projects, socialize frequently, and still find yourself looking in a crowd of familiar faces wishing someone was standing beside you holding your hand, you're lonely. And you have issues. Face it. I have.
We, lonely people are too scared to take chances with our emotions. We're unsure of ourselves. We're relationship shy. We've been hurt before. We're ugly. We haven't prioritized our lives correctly. We're waiting until the right time. We're not putting ourselves out there. We're waiting for GOD to send us Mr./Ms. Right. We're not successful. We're not financially stable. We have a million excuses but it boils down to the fact that we're scared and perhaps a little scarred. I am. And the scariest thing is that even if I find Mr. Right, I'm afraid I'll still be lonely.
In my life, I've witnessed and participated in events that would devastate another. I've continued through with the belief that some good would come out of all of it. My little grain of hope that I've kept locked safely within me from everything. I've become this watchdog that is fierce and unforgiving and almost rabid, trying to protect it because somewhere, I believe, an answer will be revealed that everything that has happened to me is for some good reason and I will be rewarded. I will finally be happy. And stupidly, I continued to believe this.
God, it sounds horrific when I write it. Another reason I've stopped writing and I continue to withdraw from people. It's embarrassing to reveal this idiocy...this "dear diary" bullshit. Eh. However, continuing on...
Now, I'm trying to reconcile my youthful beliefs with my wisdom acquired through experience and age......And I'm having a mid-life crisis. I'm in the throes of a battle. I'm trying to not be the little girl with this crusade to be ever-after happy at whatever cost and who continues to get her feelings hurt; but I'm also trying to not be the cynical, fatalistic, pessimistic bitch who has resigned to a living death. In a movie, I would be