I have been reading The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. I think I have read this book for a good three months, but have yet to finish it. And it’s not because the book is bad or doesn’t suck you in but because there have been so many other things monopolizing my time. Recently I commented that my full-time job is looking for a full-time job, and it’s true. During the week I put in a good six to eight hours a day looking for and applying to jobs. My activities include writing and re-writing cover letters, re-working my résumé, creating writing samples, or pulling from my inventory and editing, searching for jobs and running through applications, along with countless other activities. I just want to sit out in the sun and delve into Kvothe’s world.
There are moments where everything feels like it’s coming together, but lately I feel unsure of each tentative step I take. I still say my mantra, I still believe that something good will come and I will meet it halfway, but I’m losing my motion. I once again feel like an odd man out, like I have worn out my welcome in people’s lives. I wonder at the possibilities of friendships and relationships and question my ability to move forward. For those who know me and my history (outside of this blog), I feel like reading that comment may imply some type of inability to get over my ex-fiance. But the inability to move forward is not because I am hung up on a person, a place, or a thing, it simply means that I am lacking the confidence to take those steps. I have, for some reason, become very fearful of failure as of late. I think it has something to do with the stresses that are free-floating towards me daily, like how will I pay bills? When will this unemployment end? Will I ever feel confidence when it comes to potential relationships? Friendships? How come when I hang out with certain people I feel like they tolerate my presence but are not actually happy to have me around? The question becomes if it is my own insecurities, or are there really moments or “vibes” I am picking up on? I am so inexperienced in keeping and maintaining friendships that I truly am unsure of what my next move should be. Do I really make a new move? Do these things happen organically? Is it forced? Do I make the effort or pull back?
As stated in a earlier post, being alone is beginning to hurt. Physically, mentally, emotionally, there is a palpable tenor of emotion that just hurts. Every one of my girlfriends is in a relationship. I am jealous of that connection. To have someone hold your hand, give you a hug, rub your back, let you be on a bad day, but still be there to listen, even if all you do is grunt some nonsensical comment, like, “life is a bitch and I wanted to smack her today.” But there is the counterpart. The fear, extreme in my case, of what that means. I believe there is some clichéd comment about being burned and not wanting to go towards a flame again. clichéd or not, that is how I feel. And it’s sad because there is a definite dichotomy of desiring and fearing that potential connection.
A few weeks ago I felt confident in the next steps. I felt like I knew what they were and how to go about putting my foot down and literally beginning to walk the path in front of me. Now I am not so sure. Confidence has been leached out of me. I feel like the understanding that was dawning on me was a lie (which partly inspired my previous post). And in actuality, it was a lie. I was lied to. When the reality finally broke through it helped to disseminate any potential confidence I had in those fledgling baby steps. I was slowly making my way to open arms, to a caring embrace, or so I thought. Now I am standing looking around for an image, an idea that could explain why the earth shook; why beneath me quaked and left me red-faced and crying. But only that answer can come from the culprits, and I am not sure I even wish to walk towards those answers. Does that mean delusion is my friend? That I would rather live in a fantasy? Possibly, but I cannot handle another complete degradation of a part of my life again. Not this year.
I just got hit with the image of Jonathan and I discussing potential wedding venues. He was sitting on our bed and I had a magazine in front of me. We fooled each other so well. Him sitting there telling me how happy he was to marry me while lying about hidden feelings, and me desperately looking for a way to stay in a delusion so I didn’t have to face the reality that I was no longer in love with him. I was looking at venues and dresses and lighting designs and decorations, wrapping myself in the gorgeous photographs of other people’s fairy tales so that I didn’t have to face the cracks in my reality. Deposit in, betrayal. Betrayal comes out and more betrayal, not just by him, but by me. Finally focusing on the truth, though not wanting to give up, not yet, maybe, JUST MAYBE, something positive can happen, maybe we will fall in love again, maybe the trials that have gotten us to this point are molding a new, stronger relationship. False hope. False being the operative word. And I’m getting angry just thinking about it. And I focus that anger inwards, it is anger at myself, for my weaknesses. I am often told I am strong, and every time I cannot help but laugh at those assumptions. I think to myself, “If you only knew…” but maybe they know, and I am the one who doesn’t. That would be a happy thought. Too bad I cannot grasp it.