To Dream the Impossible Dream

I have this feeling of time moving too fast, and I don't seem to have enough of it left.  I'm feeling my mortality, I suppose. I have fewer days ahead than behind, and I'm none too happy with how I've used my time so far.

Stress is obliterating my health lately.  I need to get that under control, in a way I've never been able to before.  Why is it that I feel strong and committed and ready to tackle it all when I'm in the shower, then it all falls apart when someone says, "Want a bagel?"  Which is super bad for me, by the way.  I would actually be better off eating a donut, if that says anything.  But yes, I stress eat.  That's BAD.

Last week, I learned that I now have high blood pressure.  I've never had high blood pressure. If anything, it goes low.  But I also have an insulin pump, a continuous glucose monitor, and pain.  You know what's hilarious?  The joint of my middle finger gets stuck. Overuse, maybe?

You know what all of this adds up to?  A decidedly hideously unattractive person.  As funny and nice as people think I am, I'm in no way considered a romantic partner.  I have a coworker who everyone is convinced should be dating me. I've bene told, and he's been told.  He calls me damn near every day.  And what do we talk about?  Among other things, his dating life.  The one that never, ever includes me.

God, what I wouldn't give to have that moment again, where you know someone really wants to kiss you. You know?  I honestly suspect that I will never have that again.  Only in memories. Or fantasies.

So, I'm not at all living the life that I want.  I feel the pressure to get ON with it.  To salvage what time I have left finding my joy, if that's even possible.  The pages are flying off of the calendar, and I feel desperate about it.

Before anything else, I have to - HAVE TO - get my health under control.  I've recently watched my ex-husband get gastric bypass surgery, but the aftermath was horrible. Constantly being sick.  I have too much of an aversion to vomiting.  He's dropped a bunch of weight - but he's still an asshole.  And he looks so old. I seriously doubt I could do that without wanting to just walk into the ocean and end it all.

Maybe if I was an attractive person things would go better.  There, I said it.  I see things go ridiculously well for the attractive people of the world, often just because someone takes a shine to them.

Then, I have to get my work sorted out.  How can I make it happen?

All the while, I need to find my center again.  I need to find tranquility. Peace.  I think it's asking too much to find happiness, but just calm my mind.

My pie in the sky dream would be to spend an extended amount of time in Yorkshire.  I feel like I belong there.  It draws me, all day and all night.  Le sigh. Do I dare hope?

I AM The Actual Worst

I am actually the worst.  I vow to blog, and I don't blog.

But I'm back.  No, really.  You can believe me this time.  I think.

To be honest, I need you, dear Diary.  I need someone to talk to. Someone I can just spill it to, who will be free of judgment, free of agenda. Somewhere I can just say the ugly things. I mean, the things that just might make me seem awful. Those inexpressible thoughts.

Sometimes, I might sound self-pitying.  I'm actually not, just so you know.  These are things I just need to SAY.  To get them out of my head.  And no, I am not currently suicidal. I'll just get that out of the way.  I'm too much afraid of The End to hasten it.

Where to begin....  In short, it's been a bad time. For years now.  I've become convinced that, yes, God loves his children, in that innate way parents do.  I believe he exists.  I have faith that he exists. But life on this earth has taught me that he just doesn't like some of us.  He doesn't really have an interest in seeing us at his side again.  He has his favorites.  And I am not one of them.

I see a lot of "Jesus loves you!" around here.  I'm convinced of that.  But you have to understand my faith; I believe God/Heavenly Father/whatever-name-you-have-for-him and Jesus are separate beings. Divine entities who are The Father and The Son, separately.  Jesus is my brother, and he loves me. He sees what our father does to me, and I imagine him shrugging and saying, "Wow, that was uncalled for.  I don't know why he did that to you.  I'm sorry.  There, there. Want a hug?"

Okay, so there. I said it.  God does not like me. He doesn't want me. He jerks me around and plays with my happiness.  It is sport to him.  Tease me with the happy thing, then yank it out from under me.  I can about hear him laughing when I'm picking myself up off the floor, too.

That is a little of where I'm coming from.  This post isn't going to put it all out there.  I have too much to say and to work out.  I need to think. A LOT.  I think best when I can express it and think while I talk. So, here I am.  Aren't you the lucky one, Diary?  Ha.

A quick synopsis of where my life is, at the moment:

I've been on the East Coast over three years now.  I share a home with my mother, my grown son, and apparently, with his pal who has gradually moved in with us.  Daughter got married last year and is deliriously happy.  Her husband is wonderful.  They live and go to school on the other side of the state.  I have two dogs who mean the world to me, and it pains me that one of them is getting old.

I am partly blind for nearly five years now, and I work full time at a job that sucks  You'll hear about that.  What I actually do is pretty cool, but the context of where I am and what the management does makes it all so difficult.

And finally...romance.  None. Zilch. Zero.  No relationship in my life, and none on the horizon.  I'm looking at the very real possibility of spending the remainder of my life alone.  As this blog attests, I've had a terrible history with relationships. I have more thoughts on that, but it will take awhile to sort out.

So, dear Diary, I'm back.  Buckle up.  I honestly don't know how this ride will go.