I know, as sure as I am writing these words that I need to eat better. I have been thinking a lot about health issues lately. This year has been hard and as it comes to a close I try to be reflective but I just don’t feel like it. I know all the things I should do. Eat better. Exercise more. Take care of my mental health as well. To be honest, I just don’t feel like doing any of it.
Work has had nothing but holiday parties. I go and make an appearance but I don’t eat. Everyone is asking why I am not eating and what is wrong. I don’t have an answer. Not one that I would share with co-workers. To be honest, I am not even sure. So much has happened and continues to go on that I am not sure where my head is. I know where it isn’t. It isn’t on taking care of myself.
I haven’t been to the gym since September. I don’t eat much at all and when I do it is normally pizza. I drink a coke or maybe a beer. Water is non-existent. I just don’t care. I know all the things I am supposed to do. I should be going to the gym. I should be eating healthy and taking care of myself. My writing is more of a struggle than something I enjoy and when I do write I am more critical than normal. I never thought it possible to be more critical. I still love it and want to do it, but I am having a hard time trying to figure out where to start and what to do with the thoughts in my head. I have so many thoughts and storylines, but when I sit to write it all sounds like crap.
So, is there a connection? I wrote a blog recently about mental health and taking care of your mind as well as your body. It seemed hypocritical to write and even worse, I published it by mistake. It was supposed to be a draft until I could make sense of things. So, is there a connection to the fact that I am neglecting every part of my body?
The losses I have experienced this year have been difficult. With all the things that I have been dealing with it makes sense that I’m a little off. I know this. My logical self knows this.
My Dad – this goes without saying. I was blessed to have two amazing fathers in my life. I know that I am lucky as many people barely have one good one. I can say a million things about him. I miss him more than I thought I would be possible. I try and take my Mom’s lead. She is strong and determined. She still walks, and goes to the gym and does yoga. She still works on some of the same committees and has started going out with her friends and doing things without him. She is amazing. I still get mad and sad when I drive up to their apartment and he isn’t there to meet me at the door. I know she has her moments. I feel like I should be the strong one for her. Instead, she is showing me. While I know I should follow her lead, I struggle to get there. I miss him. I feel guilty that she is doing better than me in handling his absence.
My best friend, lover, and Dom – I don’t even know where to start with this. Every day is a new wound and stab in the heart. It hurts when I see him and it hurts when I don’t. He is polite and professional, and that hurts more than anything I think. I miss so much about him. While I want to be mad for him for dumping me in a text and leaving me with nothing and no answers, I am just devastated, my heart betrays me and I still love and miss him. My daughter asked if I would talk to him if he reached out. I wanted so badly to say no, that I wouldn’t talk to him, but honestly, I don’t know what I would do.
I’ve had breakups before. While all of this was happening my second divorce was in process and became final. Feeling like a failure in the relationship department is adding to the weight of it all. This breakup from my Dom has been multi-level difficult. He awakened something in me I didn’t know I wanted. When he ended things, everything ended. He had others, but I did not. I have no other option or avenue to satisfy my BDSM and kinky needs. It seems silly to whine about that but it is the truth. I am really struggling with all of it. I miss it more than I can put into words.
Blogging helps. Writing helps, sometimes. I am just so sad. I see the sadness in my writing and I don’t know what to do or how to pull myself out of it. Was he the only source of sexiness I had? Are our experiences the only ones I can write about? Now they just seem like painful memories and not the sexy ones I want to remember them as.
I know in time I will be fine and things will be better. Recovery just takes time and there is no gauge on how long recovering from heartbreak will take.
I will wait. I will keep trying. I will do my best. I will force the gym. I will force the food. I will force the writing. I will try to find happiness and happy things in my life and focus there.
I will do my best. At the end of the day, that is all I can do.