I am all alone today. The apartment is so quiet I can only hear the sounds of my fingers against the keyboard and the hum of my computer.
Mum and dad have taken Noo to their home in the Blue Mountains so I can have some 'me time'. I've spent most of that time so far in front of screens - my laptop and the telly - or sleeping.
I guess in an ideal world I would be going on a date with someone new or seeing a boyfriend or even going out with girlfriends. But I am at home, alone and I'm ok with that.
That's what worries me.
When I was a little girl I always knew I wanted to get married and have kids. Having my own family is really the only ambition I've ever had. I remember sitting on the steps of the terrace house I grew up in and saying to my mother "My husband is out there, mum. He's alive, I just haven't met him yet". I was about eight years old at the time.
Here I am, nearly 30 years later, and I'm nowhere near finding this mystery man who is suppose to be my husband. And I don't know if I ever will meet him. I actually cannot fathom ever being in a proper stable relationship with a man who loves me for who I am, whom I can trust with all my heart and who I could possibly create a family with.
I have been on my own (with the exception of a few very brief relationships) for most of my adult life. I used to be so desperate for a boyfriend, so desperate to be loved and to have someone to share my life with but now, I don't know, I feel like I've given up.
I'm 37 and I've given up on any hope of love.
Kinda makes me want to cry when I see that on the screen.
I have my son. My beautiful little boy, Noo. He is the love of my life. But he will grow up and will go on and find his own love, be it boy or girl, and I will be happy for him, and I will let him go.
I have my parents, of whom I am so close, but they will die.
And I will truly be alone.
What will I do then?
I will be old and dried up and more unlovable than I am now.
Time is moving so fast! Tick tock goes my biological clock.
But I am damaged. I have baggage. A whole shipping container load full. Nobody wants baggage. But this baggage is what makes me... or does it break me?
I am crying now as I type this. Alone in my room I share with my son who is not here.
I am crying because by typing these words, I am allowing myself to feel them, I am finding my voice and it scares me.
Shrink says I don't feel my pain enough. I laugh it off all the time. I am self deprecating.
From next week I am going back into weekly therapy because I am so scared I will be alone forever.
Shrink says I need to feel things.
Why feel anything when all there is is pain?
V.
