Where Is That Happy Ending, Where Are You?

For various reasons P has been on a hiatus from our regular life. This has caused me to break out of my own coma, brush the cobwebs off my psyche and take a look around in the 'ole crawl space.  He's left on yet another road trip and that has given me many days with myself. 

I ordered a specialty salad from Lean Crust Pizza after work.  A solid choice, The Greek, full of good salty stuff.  However in the end it lacked the excitement for which I was searching.  Lately I feel there is something missing from life and it's not just my husband.

  

Don't get me wrong, I'm a gal that thoroughly enjoys her alone time. I don't want to go on trips, don't have kids, and there is nothing material I desire.  I wish objects could squelch my unrest.  Unfortunately though, I'm just not feeling this old world so much these days and I sense that more clearly each week.  I tell myself the usual, it could always be much worse, you have your health, appreciate what you do have, and all the similar true but annoying placating words of wisdom.  Although nothing is broken, I really couldn't be more boring or uninteresting right now and that's just not acceptable.   I don't understand how to fix anything anymore.  I lack the motivation to make my own change.  I wake up with gratitude but my heart is clogged up with the dread of being me yet another full 24 hours.   I day nightmare a disproportionate amount of my free time.  Calling it dreaming would be a huge glorification. I go through the motions of anything positive sort of waiting for that big joy to come. I expect the grand highs of the past but now gaiety happens more like my pee stream, weak and trickling in and out.  Something must shift because I also feel very ill equipped to continue on this path to nothingness.  At times like these when I was younger, I would contemplate dark solutions but depression has since lost all such romantic notions. 

Lord hear my prayer.

#menapausesucks