I went to the doctor today, and they ask all kinds of “lifestyle” questions aimed at determining your mental health. Normally I try to sound as level and competent as ever. But it was tiring. One question was, more or less, do you ever wish you were dead? I gave a “so-so” hand gesture.
This whole part of my life, the past six years, seem to have been almost entirely about loss and letting go. Sometimes I think I’ve lost so much that I’m past caring about losing anything else. And really, what am I going to accomplish if I don’t live past today? I’ll just lose more things, more people, will have to cancel more plans and forego more activities. fail more, and get sadder each day.
At least I have fewer witnesses for my failures. I decided that not being willing to return a phone call, email or text for two years disqualifies Danny from being my brother any more, and I wrote a letter and told him so. He hasn’t wanted much to do with me since they moved away, and I’ve had to face the fact that even if he won’t talk to me about it or explain it, he’s a toxic person to have in my life. I am less and less willing to have people in my life who treat me badly. Got rid of the boyfriend, too, since it became weirdly clear that he didn’t actually like me. His response was, “but we can still be friends, right?” Nope, not right. I’m not going to make nice with you just so you won’t feel guilty about being so shitty to me. I don’t choose friends who are shitty to me and don’t like me and treat my interests and preferences like failings.
It doesn’t make me less lonely to be around people who don’t respect me.
Your Mileage May Vary 