There’s a word for it.
Down. Down down down, suicidally down.
There’s another word, more precise, than that. Heartbreak.
My heart was breaking last night. Thus the post preceding.
It still is. But today I’m not under the effect of alcohol. Plus am beginning to process the heart breaking.
The situation and person involved are oh so very personal. Exposure/writing online, not gonna happen.
Suffice it to say that it’s someone I’ve known a very long time, more than 30 years, more than half my life.
A breaking heart makes for a memorable Christmas / holiday season.
I don’t cry easily or much any more. I used to. Childhood into adolescence was swamped with storms, tears of rage and pain and anguish — copious amounts far above the norm. All connected to home, parents, stuff I’d never return to even if a time machine allowed.
Later I learned to stuff the tears. Wall them off. Self-preservation.
So at 59, I very rarely cry and usually only when alcohol loosens the stubborn tight grip on my heart’s emotions.
Last night copious tears flowed, quietly, privately, head down. I’m not a wailer or attention-getting crier. I just remember sitting at one of my hangout saloons, there because I know the Monday evening bartender, looking online at my phone — at what, I don’t remember — and occasionally wiping away massive tears. Like melted snowballs.
Then when I got “home” eating the large remainder of my Christmas cookies my son baked — drowning my emotions in food, as I’m wont to do — and watching Netflix and then switching out the light.
I barely remember all that.
I can’t distinguish how much was the alcohol (in quantity, hadn’t been much though) and how much the meltdown of a heartbreak in the happening.
It can feel a lot like being drunk.
It wasn’t on heartbreak alone that I wrote last night’s post. (How I managed to do it at all is pretty amazing given my distraught condition!) It’s other things.
All coalescing into getting slammed by a semi that suddenly came careening around the corner.
I’ve got to keep it together. I can’t afford more crises on top of the crises already on my plate.
Merry Christmas to me! Maybe not.
Happy New Year! We’ll see.
Life’s dealt me some hard blows of late. I just want and need OUT of where I’m living and INTO a better space so I can at least deal with this stuff better.
Still waiting on Santa to deliver on that one item on the Wish List.
Nuthin’ more to say except though I’m tempted, I’m not deleting the post prior (“one week …”).
It may be drunk blogging, partly. Mostly it’s heartbreak blogging. I’m gonna respect that and let it be.