There are some days when I just feel so lonely. Like there’s no one to talk to; no one who I can truly relate to; no one who I can entirely be myself with. Today is one of those days. I don’t know why. It’s not really been any different than any other day.
For all the things I fill my time with, there are still a lot of days when I have nothing more to do than feed myself and clean the house. Suddenly, the idea of making myself a sad little lunch and eating it while I watch BBC World (if the satellite is working in the snow) then doing the dishes and vacuuming is just more than I can take.
And for as nice (yes, I’m sticking with that bland word) as all the people are who I’ve met here, I don’t think a single one would let the f-word slip into conversation… let alone dominate it. The idea that a year ago I spent many, many hours a day muttering, saying or screaming that word would leave them speechless. Let’s just say… I cannot totally relate to them. And vice versa.
I often feel that the very things that have shaped me into the person I am are things that no one here would accept… let alone understand. So I keep a lot to myself. Which often means I feel like I am keeping to myself… and not really being myself.
After picking Kaitlyn up from school, we were stopped by a funeral procession walking from the church to the graveyard. All I could do was sit in my car and cry and cry. Kaitlyn told me to be happy, but I just couldn’t. All I could think about was Mom. And the only person I felt I could talk to was Kaitlyn. Sad, really.
There’s no one here I can really talk to about any of this. Because I feel like every move you make and every word you say is being judged. Because we’re all going through such a very surreal experience and the only measuring stick we have for ourselves is the others we can see and, naturally, each of us wants to measure ourselves as doing better than someone else.
But here I sit, sniffling and crying. I don’t even know anymore what is wrong.
It has been dificult on this side of the world too. Moving and all that is wrapped up in that can at times really suck. i speak the language, and can use the f word… sometimes (at work of course, it is required) but it can be lonely.
It is much easier to go through moving when we’re younger, and i don’t think we’re younger anymore!
You can always call me! Anytime you need to talk even if I can’t relate to the living in France thing. Trust me, I’m already worried about traveling in Europe since my French and Italian is real rusty. Like rusty from other life times since I failed French in Jr High and never spoke a word of Italian other than what Uncle Mac would say. We miss you all.