I turned 43 three days ago. I always post on my birthday. So here goes…
Basically, same shit, different year.
Feeling like I have no use in this world.
Can’t find a man who doesn’t ignore text messages or phone calls, and if he’s busy he can’t be bothered to just tell me that.
I know I said in a previous blog that I need to try to stay alone, but I can’t. Loneliness is vicious and threatens to swallow me up. So I keep trying to meet someone. Thought I met someone promising but now I’m not so sure.
I’m sure I’m fooling myself to think there’s ever going to be anyone who would tolerate me. I mean, what do I have to offer? Good sex, kissing and hugs; a listening ear; intelligent conversation. And then on top of that neuroses, neediness and crying. Whoo boy, with that combo they should be lining up. And what do I ask for in return? Talking to/texting me, spending time with me, holding me, having sex with me. It doesn’t seem like a lot to ask, but maybe it is.
Or maybe it isn’t a lot but I’m not worth even that much.
That seems the most likely.
My birthday kind of sucked as my birthdays generally do. I did get taken out for supper by the aforementioned promising guy. But it wasn’t enough, mainly because we don’t really know each other that well.
I tried to celebrate my birthday at my usual pub. It was heart wrenching. I want more than just my family to care that I was born on March 16. And no one does. My family loves me because they have to. I just want so much for someone to love me because they choose to.
Is that an unrealistic or foolish thing? I really don’t think so.
I just wish I knew what makes me so unworthy.
I befriended a neighbor last spring. She seemed like she needed a friend and I tried to be that. We are friends in a way, I suppose. We have a few things in common but never really have anything to talk about. She came to the pub for my birthday, but it just made me feel worse because what usually happens when we go there together, happened. Everybody would rather talk to her than to me. I end up sitting there basically by myself because everyone who knows me there is talking to her. They only talk to me when she’s not there. It’s nice when they talk to me. I can pretend they’re my friends. I mean, I know they wouldn’t notice if I never showed up there again, but at least I can pretend they actually care for a couple of hours. But I can’t do that when I’m getting no attention at all because they all prefer my neighbor.
It all just brings into sharp relief what I’ve known to be true since I was a kid. There is something inherently wrong with me. Something that is unlikable, unlovable and unworthy of anything.
I’ve written in previous blogs about how I need to accept the fact that I’m a useless, unworthy-of-love person. Accept it and get on with my life. The problem is that accepting it just makes it seem more sensible to just remove myself from this world. Why take up space and air and taxpayers money? And I admit it’s getting harder to use my kids as a reason not to do it. My second youngest is an adult now and I’m sure my youngest, at 10, would be much happier being raised the rest of the way by her dad and my sister.
I’m not saying I’m going to kill myself. I’m not planning to do that any time soon.
But I am saying it’s getting harder to find reasons not to.