Deafening Silence

I wanted to drink wine tonight. I wanted to pop a bottle, have a few glasses and decompress. I went into my head instead.

This life is isolating. This life meaning the one where I’m just as alone after the divorce, the breakup as I was while I was in the relationship. The common denominator is me, I know this. 

I know I go into my own head. I know that in order to have others be open with you sometimes you have to actually open up to them. Once I’m around people it’s “game over, peace out, I’d rather THE FUCK not.” 

I’m going to be alone for the rest of my life, and I am a-ok with that. I spend all day talking to strangers and I am tapped the fuck out by the time I come home. Once I’m home I’m in “mom mode” and even once they’re old enough I don’t think I’ll be able to have the conversations I need to have in order to quench the thirst of interacting with other adults. Even then, it’s not the interacting with other adults I even need. I crave comfortable silence. Sometimes I just need another body at the other end of the couch I can push my toes underneath the warmth of them and… that’s it. That’s sometimes all I really need. Other times it’s conversation where I can just word vomit all the insanity I’m surrounded by and hear the words, “man, I GET IT.”

I join and delete dating apps once every few months because the human connection just isn’t there. As vain and narcissistic as it sounds, I feel either terribly overqualified for the role they want me to play or I feel overwhelmingly under qualified. Like, look, I lived and breathed excitement in my early 20’s, but I’ve spent the last 15 years raising these kids and I cannot even begin to pretend to understand these highly motivated, successful people. I will see myself out, you ain’t gotta tell me twice.

I need understated carnal passion, but with the understanding that I’m not going to want any sort of relationship or situationship that comes with it normally. I need my quiet solitude until I get in my head and need touch, talk, mutual understanding that our actions speak louder than any conversation could. 

How do I get this? Is it on Amazon? Will I find it at a bar? Grocery store? Where are these people? Because I surely can’t be the ONLY person to feel this way.

Ebb and Flow.

If I talk out loud my emotions fall out as tears. I can feel them rise like the tide choking my throat until they rush past my lids like a breached dam. I’ve always resonated with Disney’s animated Alice from Alice in Wonderland where she cries so hard she starts a flood. Once the waterworks begin, I can’t turn it off till they run their course.

I wear the scars of my emotions for days following, swollen eyes and red chapped lips. Most days I wear my mask to pass as normal. I’ll smile and speak as if I’ve done this before. As the words cross my tongue, I can feel the strings in my chest pulling the mask down like a curtain. Every interaction after is a more exhausted encore I didn’t consent to. I stuff my discomfort and emotions down deep with every encounter until the jar I’ve trapped them in starts to crack.

Writing allows me to skip the unease of interacting with others. Typing the words out uses some different part of my brain to keep emotion from getting all tangled up and intertwined. I’ve caught crap from others for writing instead of speaking up and using my voice. They don’t understand me as much as I explain that I just can’t. It’s not so easy as they claim. I’ve lost friends and relationships. I’ve been misread when it’s all been there black and white, laid bare as my bones in the moonlight for all to see.

I don’t understand others when they twist the words I’ve written or misinterpreted my intentions or tone. I don’t understand a lot. 

I am trying SO HARD to keep my emotions out of disciplining my children or when I’m speaking up for them. I can feel the stress fractures starting. I know I need to cry, but nows not a good time.