brain dumpage

So I just woke up after a fabulous sleep in. There are no tutorials this week, so I have no uni today. Hooray hooray!

I had a weird sleep. Maybe because I woke up, lying on my back, with Tamika curled up on my chest!! Funny.

No, but it was more than that. My insecurities were being played out in my dreams. For one I dreamed that my two front teeth fell out, which was hideous. That’s a big indicator of insecure! The other thing I dreamed was me being younger, I turned up to see a male friend of mine (none of this was actually real people I knew, but some strange fiction of my mind). He embraced me warmly then moved me out of sight and told me that I couldn’t stay. I asked him why not and he told me that his girlfriend was due to arrive later and that she was of the opinion that I was too much of a threat to have around. That it would be best if I left, so it wouldn’t cause trouble for him.

The dream went on for a while, it was more complicated than that, but when I woke up it had me thinking. Through my twenties this was a problem for me. Stupid women who somehow, for some reason, thought I was a threat to their relationship, even though I’d never expressed interest in their boyfriends or done anything to them. I remember feeling so very hurt when friends told me that one of my so called best friends thought this about me.

I’ve never been a big flirt, I’ve never been one to drape myself over men, or women. I made one mistake when I was 18 and it seems I paid for it for the rest of my life. It seems even more ridiculous now when I realise just how insecure I am about myself and my looks. I certainly never think I’m anything special, I wouldn’t even know if someone liked me unless they wrote it in big letters and showed me and even then I’d think they were taking the piss. So to be tarnished with that brush is painful.

No wonder it is that it seems I will remain a spinster all my life. Any courage I once had around the opposite sex has disappeared. I don’t dare do anything these days.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about having children, or the fact that I haven’t as of yet. I’m 33 years old, by the time I finish uni and get rid of this fucking tumour in my uterus, I’ll be close to 35. It’s pushing it for me. I don’t want to be 40 and be changing nappies. But I just don’t see it happening. I don’t let people get close to me, I do my very best to destroy any relationship I might have, so babies? Pffft! Not likely.

It was Mother’s Day on Sunday and I did my best to not think about it. However on my way to work I was surrounded by mainly, Mothers and Daughters. On the tram there were 3 daughters with their mother, the daughters being around my age. They were joking with each other and clearly enjoyed a good relationship. I got teary. Then I walked into work and Lisa greeted me and asked me how I was, I burst into tears. I felt a big aching hollow place inside of me, where my mothers love once was. It’s the 6th anniversary of her death on Friday and out of all the years, my emotions are more raw than they ever have been. Maybe because I’m so very tired from uni and all the work I’ve been doing. I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve been baring my soul and I’ve been doing a lot of self analysis because of this counselling business. I just feel like it’s all overwhelming right now.

But no one wants to hear this kinda stuff 6 years after the event. You’re supposed to have moved on by now and have your life under control. Well, that’s according to the rest of society anyway, I know better. I’ve studied grief and loss, i know how it goes.

It doesn’t change the fact that I feel so very alone.

~ by Fen on May 13, 2008.

Leave a Comment For Me

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: