Mavis: Woes

I want to scream. I really, really, REALLY do. 

"And then I want to hit someone; I want to hit them hard... until they feel as bad as I do!"

Lately, life has been nothing short of a disaster. The only things that have gone right are things that make me sad to do, but need to be done so I can "move on." I'm surrounded by people yet I've never been lonelier in my whole life. And I feel physically ill all the time for no reason.

I'm getting a divorce.

There. I've typed it. Publicly. 

I also recently reached the milestone of saying it out loud on a couple of occasions and not simultaneously sobbing/puking. I emote about my sadness at inappropriate times, like during staff meetings and when I'm in line at the wine store. I shuffle from one lost thought to another like a listless patient in a psych ward. Which would be fine except it can be like that for days on end, meanwhile I'm also trying to bare some resemblance to a normal, functioning person in our society, someone who does things like drive, talk and occasionally use sharp instruments to cut things like paper and grilled chicken. None of these things have been done safely for months while I've been in this impending doom coma.

I can't control where my mind goes. It's like the most depressing acid trip in the world. I go from being hyper-focused and determined to being instantly whimsical and unable to remember what I was doing 3 seconds ago. My face is in a constant state of "almost crying..." which if you're unfamiliar, mostly looks like the face you make when you're constipated, with the added bonus of an omnipresent wino's nose and ruptured blood vessels under my eyes that will probably never recover.

But I'm an adult. And there are a multitude of adult responsibilities that I still have to handle on a daily basis. Things like paying bills, showing up at work, not flying off the handle when I'm in my home with my estranged (yuck that term) husband, finding a way to sleep that doesn't involve chardonnay, and preparing for life after separation - managing the details of moving, securing an apartment and starting a new job. It's enough to make me circle the block for hours in my car listening to the Cranberries, praying for an accidental  drone strike.

There are major and minor disappointments throughout this journey. However, there is no joy. Nowhere is there joy. It's all sadness and fear and failure and horribleness wrapped up in pity. By no means do I think that I am the only person whose ever suffered a bad set of circumstances. Divorce is shitty. And I hate that I'm in this place.