Time is moving fast, and I don’t know where to go. I’m literally lost. I thought by now I’d have come to terms with my new fate, but I’m falling deeper and deeper into a confused depression. I don’t know what to do or who to turn to. My husband is a good listener, but I’m somewhat of a broken record so I’ve chosen to keep my mouth shut and just listen to his concerns. I say I don’t care about being abandoned by my children, while trying to abide by Mel Robbins’s theory of “Let Them,” which is supposed to empower you to take back control of your own reactions. I’m really trying, but it’s hard when your heart is broken and the only repair is your children’s companionship. I literally would give anything to hear them call and say, “Hey, Mom, how are you?” But it’s clearly not going to happen, and I don’t owe them anything. I didn’t do anything wrong, unless saying no to an uncomfortable request is a crime.
My husband can’t fill the void, so-called friends can’t do it, and self-love is a joke. Right now all I do is feel sorry for myself. We’re in our summer home. I should be thrilled: “Oooh, it’s a beach house!” But it’s in a place that’s getting on my nerves. It’s a small, noisy apartment and I’m tired of cleaning up jet fuel, dirty sand, and dust. I’m tired of the dirty sidewalks full of dog shit, dog piss, and gum. The beach is dirty and gross, and I’m tired of walking on it. I pretend to have a good time so nobody rags on me, but it’s boring for me. I’d rather be in the forest or in my house back home where I have space to roam, projects, friends, and my car.
I’m also lonely, but I pretend that I’m not. My husband’s friends call him, his sisters come to visit their mother, he speaks to his kids daily, his daughter is coming here so he can go with her to an important appointment, his long-time friend is coming for a visit, and he makes friends wherever he goes without even trying. Here I am, the phone gives me crickets, none of my friends can visit, my kids have shut me out, and I can’t seem to connect with anyone here, despite going to mahjong, book club, music events, the gym . . . I’m by myself feeling like a round peg in a square hole world. I’ve always felt this way, but being a mother was my identity for 33 years. Being a hard worker was my alter ego. Now that I’ve retired, I have neither.
I’m lost and can’t find my way. I’ll continue to pretend and tell myself that others have it way worse. It’s definitely true, but it doesn’t take away my own despair. How have I worked so hard in my life, been the best I knew how to be, and end up at 61 pretending to be something I’m not?
So, I spend my time writing these posts, learning how to use AI to help me stay current with the times, reading the news so I can see how shitty the world has become, and hoping that my kids make their way back to me.