3/1/14

I was once full of life and adventure. I was beautiful, smart, silly. I had friends. True friends. I was driven. I had goals. I celebrated a life worth living. Then, over time, something changed. I got married, had children, settled down and lost myself. I don't blame my husband or children. I blame myself. Now, I'm fat. I'm ugly. I'm lazy. I'm a total slob. My friends and coworkers see my past accomplishmens and still expect me to be that person. Truth is, I haven't accomplished a single thing in over ten years. Not one. I have thought about ending my life. But not in the usual way. I'm not going to hurt myself. I have decided that if, by chance, I get sick or have cancer or get into an accident - I will not seek medical care. Maybe, my fat body will take over my heart and it will stop beating. Either way, I doubt anyone will care. Do I want this in my life? No. Why don't I change? Because I'm a failure. Even now, as I write on your blog, I'm alone. My husband and children are having fun for the night. And I am here alone. I think about my kids, my job, my friends, my husband. And I realize that I am but a mist. Here, but not really here. My life is a list of chores to be done. There is no love, no support, no connection. People come and go. They expect me to be a rock. Silent and strong. So I am. Silent. I am nothing. I choose to be nothing. And if anyone knew of my nothingness, would they care? Certainly not my own husband and children. I have asked to be included. Instead, they bond and have adventures, while I am expected to have their laundry done, papers checked, bills paid, dinner cooked and toilets scrubbed when they get home. I'm not counting on a thank you, a hug, a smile or nod from anyone. I just do my chores, go to work, pay the bills and live my nothing life until the day when this Earth can be rid of me and I won't take up any more space that is better used by someone else.