This is today. Tomorrow will, I’m sure, be different.

There isn’t much grace or dignity in pouring out one’s guts all over the damn internet. I’m protective of my rough spots, mostly because I loathe the idea of The Haters smirking smugly at my difficulty. And also because it is pretty easy to look at someone’s life from the outside and assume they’re doing just fine. I’m sure to give an honest answer when I’m asked “Hey, how are you doing?” and that way, try to maintain some transparency. But the answer, most of the time, is not so simple.
It seems weird to say “Things are going really well…and I’m still sad.”

This is today.

Tomorrow will, I’m sure, be different.

I have truly wonderful friends, for the first time in years have a home I’m happy to come back to, I have a close handful of people I can trust with unfettered abandon, I’m pretty damn healthy, am in possession of all of my faculties, I’ve been sober for 1,982 days. I helped to write a book of which I am very proud, I get to spend my time doing things I love, at least for now, and that’s something most folks don’t have the opportunity to do.

The other day I was being interviewed about my life, and my choices, and various and sundry shit. The woman questioning me asked me how I went about meeting potential partners, what it was like being single, and submissive, did I ever think about having kids, what would that look like…what do I do day-to-day.

I felt my thought process unspool and managed to keep up the flow of conversations, answering the questions as best I could. And in the belly I could feel the shredding and tearing start.

WHAT DO I DO? I FUCKING CRY AND HIDE. I HOPE IN A VACCUM THAT SOMETHING MAGICAL WILL HAPPEN WHEN I KNOW IT WON’T. I WAIT AROUND FOR THE HOPE THAT MAYBE ONE OF THE DOZEN OF SO PEOPLE WHO HAVE FLIRTED OR PROPOSED PLAY OR TOLD ME HOW WONDERFUL I AM ACTUALLY STEP UP TO THE PLATE AND MAKE TIME FOR ME BUT THEZRE” THE RUB IT IS EASY TO SAY THAT SHIT BUT SO FEW BOTHER TO MAKE SHIT HAPPEN SO I TEAR MYSELF APART LOOKING FOR FLAWS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT IT IS THAT MAKES ME SO BROKEN THAT I CANNOT. FIND. ANYONE. ANYONE WHO MATCHES MY DRIVE PASSION DESIRE COMMITMENT SO WHAT DO I DO? I FILL MY LIFE WITH BUSINESS RUN FASTER AND FARTHER BECAUSE STASIS FEELS LIKE DYING AND IF I RUN FAST ENOUGH I CAN MAYBE FORGET HOW MUCH I FUCKING HATE HATE HATE BEING UNPARTNERED AND I AM TIRED OF PEOPLE TELLING ME TO BE PATIENT AND I AM OVER PEOPLE TELLING ME HOW GREAT I AM BECAUSE CLEARLY THAT’S A LIE BECAUSE IF I WERE ALL THAT GREAT I WOULDN’T. BE. ALONE.

This is today.

Tomorrow will, I’m sure, be different.

I want to shut down that voice and take a lead pipe to my Demon when she goes on like that. I know it isn’t true. I know I am not broken. But knowing a thing and feeling it are two different things.

I am sure there are people who feel great being on their own. I am not one of them. I know some of you reading this will wanna say “Better to be on your own than in a bad relationship!” Well, duh. But I don’t’ DO bad relationship. I don’t stick around when it is clear the relationship isn’t healthy when my core needs are compromised and there is no indication the person with whom I am involved wants to change that.

I don’t want to be comforted. I don’t want motivational bullshit and platitudes and I don’t’ wanna hear about how many years you were alone until you found that awesome dominant who meets your every need.

I just want to cry and bleed and pick the scab until it bleeds again and again. I’m sad, and I’m angry, and I‘m ashamed of being human. I don’t’ even want to post this because I’m afraid people will think I’m a whiny ass bitch who needs to suck it up, Buttercup. But I’ll post it because yeah, I am a masochist after all.

This is today.

Tomorrow will, I’m sure, be different.

But now I’m pulling my insides out, hobbling, flailing, and yeah I’ll be fine. I always am. I have to be. The alternatives are not acceptable.

I remember a little while back seeing an article about Rachel Maddow coming out about struggling with depression. In the comments a woman had posted “If SHE’S depressed, I might as well kill myself.”

I was yowling at my laptop. Don’t you see…we are human. Wealthy and celebrated or squatting g in a lean-to on the edge of a blighted dirt farm. Everyone feels. And some of those feelings hurt. and I can say that over and over to myself and…it still feels like slimycold misery is sucking at my heart.

This is today.

Tomorrow will I’m sure, be different.