Here I am. Saturday night.
Made dinner for myself, put Grace & Frankie on and started a bottle of wine.
What I have realized after this bottle of wine is how sad and lonely I am. I am not liking empty nesting. I’m not liking cooking for one – mainly because I hate leftovers, but because you can’t buy food in America for one very easily.
I also realized that most of the time talking isn’t going to fix anything. I want to talk and I want to spill my guts. The issue is there isn’t anyone here to listen. There isn’t anyone here to hold me when I cry. Talking about it just makes it worse.
Ever since I got home this week it has hit me that being here is lonely. I realized how sucky it is when it hit me I haven’t seen my actual nephew since my birthday in May, my mom doesn’t ever call and when she does she doesn’t understand what I am saying. My dad only calls when I call first or if it is a holiday. When I invite my brothers family he always says it’s too far to drive in one day.
Why wouldn’t I be sad and lonely? It’s not like my family puts me first. I’m 2+ hours away and that’s apparently like an eternity to them.
Then when your one friend says that your ideas are silly when you try to make plans – you start to feel worse and worse. I was looking forward to getting out a bit tonight – even if it was just to sit in a car and watch a movie. It didn’t need to be complicated. Just spend time with me.
When another friend just stops talking to you for no real reason it stings a little more.
When you get two messages from two people, like a blast from the past and that twinge of excitement quickly fades as you realize what their initial intent was for contacting you.
After a while staying home alone becomes the norm. Being content alone is sufficient. Binge watching Netflix and chilling alone, that’s okay.
I am one bottle of wine in and I am perplexed.
The tears keep flowing. I wonder, what is so wrong with me? I would do anything for anyone and have done things for others, even when it was hard. Yet day in and day out I am left to feel like an outcast. Is it my looks? My intelligence? Am I not funny enough? Can I not carry on a conversation? What is it?
All of this reminds me why I don’t like being around people.
As much as people think I am a social butterfly, I am really not. I am truly your extroverted introvert.
So – I’m fine. I’m always fine.