Well, I have worked myself into a right fit of rage today. The day started out really well; I woke up at a decent time, had a nice shower and shave, enjoyed my coffee and went in to work. I've sat here by myself (probably part of my issue) and have done my work and been fairly productive. I really do try to make every day a good day. I make what effort I can to ensure that I'm happy, that I have few worries, that I'm not dragged down by my malcontented thoughts or feelings and that, in the process of going through the day, I try to genuinely share what I have, what I am and what I hope to become with the rest of the world. I have spent years, literally, years, of my life working in therapy, working out of therapy, learning, living, exploring, experimenting all trying to be simply, purely better. I have worked on myself, my feelings regarding myself, my feelings regarding other people, my past self, my past relationships, seriously, honestly examining them, evaluating them, hating them, confronting them, forgiving them, accepting them, comforting them, loving them, mourning them and moving on from them. I have taken a scared little 12 year old boy living in the body of a 30 year old man and turned him into a thriving, healthy, sane 37 year old man living inside a 37 year old body and I am better. So much better, dare I say, that I actually am happy. Not the I get up and do cartwheels because my life is amazing fake bullshit happy, but the I like my self, I can function in every day society, I enjoy what I do when I do it with the self worth and confidence of someone in control of his life.
But the reward for the effort of years of hard work appears to be that I get to be a healthy, sane together, well-adjusted person alone. And frankly, that's not good enough, in fact, it's fucking bullshit. Now this is going to start sounding like a pity party, and maybe it is, but I don't care. I have a right to air my grievances. I'm not making any excuses; I'm not projecting any blame; I fully recognize my past (both its victories and its mistakes); I’m fully aware of the decisions I have made to get me to this point; I'm not discounting the opportunities that I've had to be with someone and have, for one reason or another, decided they're not for me; I know that I've been quite lucky to have had what relationships I've had; I'm fortunate to have found the right therapist at the right time who did not give up on me; I was double fortunate to have found a group of people with similar problems with relationships to help me to grow that part of me I had so much trouble with. The serendipitous series of events mixing with the struggle to reinvent myself and producing the person I am today is not lost on me. I am more grateful for it than even I have the words to describe.
Honestly, I'm so angry right now that I want to cry. Which actually means I am hurt and sad (learned that trick of emotions from therapy too). The apparent punishment for developing my self into a fully-fledged human being is that I might have to be it alone. I poured my heart, my soul, my psyche and everything I had learned up until that point into my last relationship; I did everything (and I don’t mean I threw a couple of bucks into a machine to get a smashed penny everything, I mean I gave of myself like I have never done before in my life) I could think of to make it something that was meaningful, that was communicative, that was a sharing of equals unlike any that I had been able to accomplish before and would actually last, and was thwarted by the simple fact that she was scared. Fucking scared. The Universe knows no bounds in its use of irony and I submit that as proof. But this isn’t about her, her example being only a conduit for my complaint. I am a catch; I am funny, I am witty, I am smart, I am charming, I am expressive, I am quirky, I am fun, I am genuine, I am good looking, I am an awesome kisser, I am interesting, I am unafraid, I am aware of my self and of my abilities and my shortcomings, I am open and honest and willing to give of myself to make a relationship work. I am fucking amazing and I say that with neither sarcasm, nor ego. I am also unwilling to compromise my expectations for the person who would be my partner. I have no reason to list that here because it isn’t necessarily relevant, sufficed to say I expect someone just as amazing, I deserve it.
But no. I see people together every day and wonder what they have done to deserve the thing I desire, not that one needs to necessarily do something to deserve someone else, but surely they have or did something that I do not have, or did not do. Speaking to said people shows no evidence of extraordinary effort in that regard, in fact sometimes it is just the opposite, and those absolutely fucking oblivious to the rare and wonderful fortune of having someone by their side (not that someone oblivious could have a genuine partner in life) annoys me to my core. It is evident that there is no trick, no deed, no effort, just plain old fucking luck and good timing. Probably not, but I’m angry, so I’m taking literary license wherever I want.
No, I suppose the answer isn’t simple. In my case it rarely is. I guess I'll get over it, I always do.