I am 6.5 months post-surgery. I’ve disappeared for a while, mainly because I hate feeling like I’m being self-centered when I post a lot. Which, I know, is ironic seeing as I have a blog dedicated to my musings. It is what it is.
My body is healed, as far as the surgery is concerned. This is a completely new body, however, and we are still trying to get to know one another. In replacement for my entire reproductive system, I now have a sticky little circular patch on my lower abdomen at all times. It doesn’t seem like an even trade.
To be honest, things aren’t going as well as I would have hoped. I would like to be recovered wholly and completely and it’s just not happening.
I’m not really sure how to fix it.
So I substitute. I substitute for the happiness that I can’t seem to find.
I curse. A lot.
I leave town. Always hoping that the next town over has something that I’m missing out on. It usually doesn’t. New towns are distractions. Substitutes.
And then I keep eating.
And then I keep drinking.
I smoke (sorry, Mom). Nicotine gives a relaxing sensation over your entire body that is not achieved by previous two things. It works so efficiently that it is easy to ignore the smell. I quit, and then I get completely stressed over something and go right back.
I seek approval from others. But this doesn’t matter much because I never believe anything good that is ever said about me.
I plan vacations constantly. Always wondering where the next escape will be.
I search on realtor.com daily for the next house. Because maybe my house is my problem?
But what IS my problem? THE PROBLEM IS THAT I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE PROBLEM IS!
I have THE best husband in the world. He works hard and he loves me fiercely. I have no void there.
I have two beautiful girls that have brilliant little minds and who love me completely.
I have, probably, one of THE best jobs as a music educator in Northeast Louisiana.
I have a nice house and a nice car and a nice golden retriever to go along with it all.
But still, I substitute for my happiness. I am trying to fill a void that was not there last year. Never so intense and with me as my constant companion as it is now.
I have a slow song that I have on my running playlist. It’s been around for quite sometime but never gets old to me. A desperate song that speaks so much of how I feel. A feeling of not being enough. A feeling of not being what I should be. I have severe insecurities that stem simply from the fact that I KNOW I am not living the life that I am meant for. I am bigger than what I am. Maybe I am unhappy simply because I have succumbed to my own weaknesses and shortcomings way to often? I feel defeated by my own self.
I am not whining. I am not calling out for help. I am just stating facts. Almost every gritty post that I have made has been answered by someone privately that was going through something similar. I am honest, and people benefit from honesty… whether they like it or not 😉
“That I Would Be Good”
that I would be good even if I got the thumbs down
that I would be good if I got and stayed sick
that I would be good even if I gained ten poundsthat I would be fine even if I went bankrupt
that I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth
that I would be great if I was no longer queen
that I would be grand if I was not all knowingthat I would be loved even when I numb myself
that I would be good even when I am overwhelmed
that I would be loved even when I was fuming
that I would be good even if I was clingy
that I would be good even if I lost sanity
that I would be good
whether with or without you