A few things are becoming obvious to me.
The first is, I used to think I was somehow more well-adjusted than other people because the idea of turning 30 never really bothered me. It still doesn't, really, not from an ego standpoint. But it's hit me in the last few weeks (my birthday is the 22nd), and I've sort of been a mess emotionally since then. I can remember crystal clearly the thoughts I was having leading up to my 20th birthday. How I was going to leave behind the woes of my teens. How I was going to solve nagging problems before I turned 20 and be free to enjoy the greatest decade yet. I sat alone in an apartment at Purdue I sublet from a friend, isolated, thinking about how everything was going to change, thinking about how much time I had left. 20... it sounded so old, an age that started with a two. An age that starts with a 3 doesn't seem very old to me now. But the passage of time is frightening.
I feel like I'm running out of time, in so many ways.
My twenties are such a disappointment when I look back on them. Now, I can see how thinking "things will be different" is a mistake. Making anything different is a grueling task. If you're not doing grueling work, expect to look back and see the same long string of disappointments. My twenties have included: a broken engagement; numerous heartbreaks, three of which consumed me (sometimes simultaneously) for years, and one of which I believe led me into an extremely abusive relationship; a finding and then subsequent losing of a strong connection with God; bankruptcy; weight gain; a major falling out with both of my stepparents; and an overall sense of purposelessness, uselessness, and directionlessness.
This isn't to say there is nothing to be grateful for, or that nothing good came out of it. One glowing, shining gift from God came of it: I met the love of my life, Paul. That should be enough for me, and I always thought it would be, and if there is anyone out there left who used to read my writing years ago, you know that is all I've really wanted, ever. Guess what? It turns out there are other things I want too. Paul has also helped give me a clue what to do with my life, and it involves a lot of thinking and writing and I think I can make a lot of money doing it.
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It's been a long time since I have done a lot of writing and I feel like Paul is starting to suffer because of it. I've been noticing a lot of weird connections between the way I behave towards Paul and the way my last boyfriend behaved towards me, and I don't like it at all. Lately, I am constantly telling Paul that I think we should break up when that is the last thing I want or think will happen. I don't know if I am experiencing this relationship in some ways from my last boyfriend's perspective or what, for karmic retribution or empathetic training or something, but I can see certain things he felt. He was 30 at the time. I feel the same sense of needing to get my life together that he did. I feel tremendous pressure to change, and I feel like how can I be any good in a relationship when I'm such a flunkie? Of course this is all bullshit, because Paul and I have both instinctually known since we met, I think, that we are soul mates in the truest sense of the word.
I've been feeling a lot of desolation lately whenever I think about the future. And I've been experiencing disturbing thoughts. Whenever I feel love for one of my cats or see that they're doing soemthing cute, my heart sinks and I think "she doesn't have much time left." They are 10 years old. I started to think those thoughts in 2007. I don't know why I have these thoughts, but they bring about constant sad feelings.
The same is true to a lesser degree with Paul. Paul is a very affectionate, cuddly sleeper. Did I mention I adore him completely? He is also very tired all the time due to working nights and a 5-year-old like "I don't wanna go to bed" mentality. So, Friday night after forcing me to watch yet another disturbing horror movie (which I'm sure isn't helping the whole preoccupation with death I seem to be developing), Paul hit his wall and we went to bed. We were lying together facing each other with his head on my arm and I was rubbing his back and he fell fast asleep while I laid there alone with my thoughts. For a while, I felt really happy, and was thanking God for whatever frame of mind brought about my realizing that he was exactly what I need and subsequently finding him. I started picturing the life that we have planned together playing out. As can be expected, it ended with death, and I started thinking about our inevitable separation. These thoughts crush me.
Paul has a very spiritual side to him and has actually said things to me like if he goes first, he will wait for me on the other side and we'll go see whatever is after this together. Those thoughts can be comforting, but I don't know what I believe anymore. I sometimes think that this is it for all of us, and that when you're dead, you're dead, which really, is fine with me. It's not so much death I'm afraid of, at least not my own. It's separation. It puts so much pressure on life, now, to be good. It puts so much pressure on me to change, now, all the things that don't work so I can milk it for the short time I'm left here.
© beotch at
9:16 p.m.
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