I’m not sure there is any worse feeling in the world then feeling completely and utterly alone in the world. To not feel that there is one person to turn to, to talk to, who actually cares what the hell happens to you, that actually makes you feel loved. I know that is what a lot of people feel like when they commit suicide. I also know the Holidays bring out more sadness and suicidal thoughts than any other time of the year. For me add in the fact that I get double the work added on to me, no time to enjoy anything. I used to love Christmas, now I just wish it were over. I could care less about any of it. I want to rip down all of the decorations now. Our tree has three ornaments on it that I put there. He could are less. as usual. I had a meltdown last night and as usual he stayed in his safe room and just ignored me. How he managed to skip the line for compassion I have no idea. I know I’m not perfect, far from it but when someone is obviously hurting and going through a major crisis, you don’t turn your back on them. It’s kind of human 101. An old friend asked me recently if I was happy. My immediate reaction of course was to fake it and move on. Not be honest. But honestly, I have no idea what happiness feels like. I have happy moments. But true happiness…no clue. It is as foreign to me as what being loved feels like.

Major blow today. Found out that our local Archiver’s is closing. To many that is nothing, but to me it is great sadness.

I used to get away twice a year with some girlfriends. We would have girl time and scrapbook. This worked greatly to give me some happiness. Then the places we went all sold and their lives got overcrowded so now we no longer go. I miss those weekends more than I can say. I found a small replacement in our Archiver’s store. Their staff is wonderful and so personable and they have crops. So I was able to still get some “girl” time in, make a few friends for those hours I was working on my scrapbooks and just have some down time to vedge. Plus it was a wonderful place to shop for supplies. We really have no other place around here to do so. So to lose that replacement, well I’m taking it pretty hard. It was my one thing keeping me from going deeper and deeper into reclusiveness. I know everyone would tell me to get over it, it is just a store. But to me and all I’ve been through and am struggling to reconcile, understand and cope with, it is like losing those friends…or rather finding out they weren’t friends to begin with.

Coping skills were just one of many things I was not taught or given growing up. Just one of many things I am trying to learn many years too late.

Why a doormat?

First this blog was not created for anyone but me. It was not created for others to read, for sympathy, for moral support or any other reason other than for me to have a place to “talk”.  If you are here and want to read, have at it but it probably won’t be roses and puppies. I’m floating alone in this world and this is my place to talk about it.

 

So doormat. Pretty invisible and ignored until you need it. Then you wipe your feet on it and move on. In short that describes my entire life. Only until about 13 years ago I really had no realization that I was being just that, a doormat. I THOUGHT I had friends…I THOUGHT I had people who cared about me and I THOUGHT I had family that loved me. Let me say it is no picnic when suddenly one day you start having flashes of reality. Cold hard reality.

 

Now I am far from perfect. I’ve never been delusional about that. I do remember as a child knowing that I would never measure up to my cousin. She and I were the babies of the family and there was 7 years between us and the next grandchild so we were pretty much just hanging out there. But she was the IT grandchild from the IT child. So that made her special, very special. I never held it against her and it wasn’t until much later in life that I realized that I actually felt sorry for her. I could not imagine having to try to live up to something you can never achieve. Perfection. Little did I realize that I had been burdened with doing that exact same thing. Years after the revelation about my cousin, I now see the revelation about me. ironic.

 

So here I am writing a blog hoping this will somehow serve as my therapy and somehow help heal me. I figure at this point it certainly can’t do any more damage. There is none left to be done. Those that have passed through my life and myself have done it all.