Surviving

 I'ts clearly been a very long time since I've written anything on my own blog(s). Life got busy. I was trying to invest my time in a new relationship. Trying (hoping) that it would be a normal one and trying (hoping) to figure out what normal was. At best, all the others were abnormal. At worst the were abusive. So yeah, normal.  There was a pandemic in the midst of that. I thought, if a relationship could survive a pandemic then it's solid, right?

I also worked through the pandemic in a health care setting. Pats on the back all around for that, right? No. Stabs in the back is more like it. 
(Wow - I really should write about the pandemic and the outcome of that on my life. It was not really a good one.)

But tonight, I logged back in. Not to write another post but because I was going to delete every word I've ever written. Nothing I think or have to say is worth anything to anyone anyway, right?. (Did I mention I was having a very bad week - and a very bad Friday? Yeah - I've let the empty house, the prosecco, and the tears have their say tonight.) Then I was shocked to see that more than a couple people have actually read this blog. Maybe they were all bots or trolls or maybe just regular assholes trying to scam people. Who knows.  But it made me stop. And wonder. Maybe there are at least a couple faceless people out there DESPERATE enough to read my ramblings. For what reason, I don't know. I've always tried to be upbeat in my writing. Lend a little humour or encouragement. But not tonight. 

Tonight I feel none of those things. I'm low. I'm completely disillusioned with people. And I want out. I'm so very tired of trying to do the right things. Of working hard. Of improving myself. Of trying to be kind or helpful. Do unto others. Always been my motto. And through all that, I hoped someone would notice. And think "hey, there's a pretty cool person. I like her". But instead, it seems to have bought me a lifetime subscription to the "what-have-you-done-for-me-lately"club. There are no perks to being in the club. Just a lot of hoping that people will keep promises. Mean what they say. Follow through on what they say. HEAR what YOU are trying to say. But no. People are pretty much interested in themselves first and foremost. And also seem to have very little guilt when they decide you've reached your best before date and discard you like a carton of old milk.

I've reached an age where words like "pension" and "retirement" are being bandied around. And all I have to show for it is...well... I don't really have much to show for it. Nothing has panned out like it was supposed to. STOP! I can hear you all saying "no one's life turns out like it was supposed to". Shut up already. Some peoples did. They did! And some peoples turned out better. And some (me) have thought that if they stuck it out long enough - kept trying- the disappointment would end. People would stop hurting you. There would be restoration. Or justice. Or appreciation. None of that has happened.

I know this sounds like an unfiltered pity party (see earlier re: the Prosecco). Well, it is a pity party. I'm beyond disappointed. I'm hurt. I've been mad and that has morphed into sad. And no, no one has to call 911. That moment passed 12 years ago when I was trying to figure out how to leave my marriage. True Grit won that battle and it will again.

But I am tired. Oh so tired. So I'll let the Prosecco egg on the tears. Let it all pour out. And maybe tomorrow or the next day, I will pull on that armour and live to fight another day. Because the is what we survivors do apparently, live to fight another day. Dammit!