I think I may have figured out what’s been bothering me lately. Granted this last year has been trying, but I can tell there’s something else. Something deeper. Or maybe just more fundamental. I’ve been spending the last couple months introspective. Pondering. Meditating. Contemplating. Reflecting. Questioning. Wondering.
Today it hit me as I am still mulling over my thoughts after a chance meeting with an old acquaintance of mine and the feelings that our meeting brought up. I think I’ve lost my identity. My identity as an individual. I’ve been so wrapped up in my significant other for the last nearly 20 years, I don’t feel like myself anymore.
I stepped back and looked at myself from outside of myself and realized I was nowhere to be found. Where did I go? I wasn’t stolen from myself. No. Instead, I gave myself away a piece at a time in the name of “truce” and “peace”. I’m not going to lie and say it was for love. It wasn’t. Rather, to make peace in my home and pacify others, I’ve given myself away. Or tucked myself away. Most of time, I feel like I give and give and give and give with very little return.
How did this happen? Why did I let it happen? I guess because I’m stubborn. I started something and I wanted to finish. I’m selfish. It’s easier this way. I won’t throw myself a pity-party and say my life is terrible or painful. It’s not. But it is….plain. Rife with the mundane. The same thing day in and out. For the most part, I’m okay with that. I’m a simple person. I don’t need excitement or glitz or glamour. But I would like to feel appreciated. Loved. Desired. Met. Listened to. Not an inconvenience. I don’t think that’s out of line or asking too much. Or maybe it is. Perhaps I don’t have a clue how things should work.
Gosh, I wish I had someone to talk to about this. One of the things I’ve sacrificed over the years is friendship. I don’t have friends anymore. Every once in a while I connect with someone and we become somewhat-friends. The problem is: time. I’m not allowed time to cultivate such relationships. And if I ask for some personal time, then I am made to feel guilty that I’m doing something with someone else. It’s like my life is not my own.
I feel like I’m complaining. Maybe I am, but I don’t mean to be. I am just full of desire. Desire to …. BE. Be noticed. Be me. Be more. Maybe I am being too selfish. I used to think of myself as outgoing and vibrant and with a high self-esteem. Nowadays, and growing more so as the years wear on, I feel beat-down, dull, unappreciated and full of self-doubt. I am torn down. I want to be built up. I want my dreams to be more than dreams. I want to be found useful. I want to be found.
Now what do I do with this newfound revelation of the heart? I’m scared. I need to make some changes but I don’t know if I can. Or if I should. Perhaps I should just keep doing what I’m doing. It’s just….I only get one shot at this life. And it’s feeling squandered. I don’t want to settle for less than best. But then, I don’t want to live day to day looking for the next “best thing” either. Looks like I’ll be spending more days and nights staring at the ceiling or out at the hills or stars, wondering, pondering, questioning.