if i were free

what sort of life WOULD you choose, if you had no history or baggage and were just who you are now and who you could be? if the only person you shaped your life and yourself for, was yourself? if you were free to do anything, no obligations, no fears, no judgements.

…

i *would* have tatts. my peacock over my arm. a hot air balloon somewhere (middle upper back?), vintage, of many colours, that lives above and beyond everything worldly.

a wardrobe full of colour and whimsy.

i would have a garden, rich and full of now-and-future-food, that can look after itself apart from my nurturing it every few days.

lots of time with my children, in the sunshine. around other mothers with big hearts and gentle open arms.

working together with other people, building something good together, significant even if small, and world-changing in its own way.

friends who really knew me, who i could come to with an open heart and find the same.

…and a heart that was free.

these fears bind me in every way and keep me from everything good.

dumped by new housemate. 12 hours after being dumped (properly, final-ly, this time) by my partner.

OUCH.

the latter because of my ridiculously pervasive self-hate. and also the resulting inability to engage with life fearlessly, or with my mind, apparently.

ironically, my self-loathing (and its associated fears and doubts) is currently more supported and affirmed than ever ever before. i feel abjectly a failure, intrinsically inadequate, and so on and so miserably forth.

anyway. the former probably for the best. while the kids were getting along and being a sunshiney part of D’s life, their mum, who i had thought was a conscious and considered parent, turned out to be a constant top-of-lungs yeller, hurling self-absorbed / hair-trigger impatient / controlling and disrespectful / shame-based put-downs, at full volume, almost constantly, in the (50%) time the kids are even around, day and night. it would’ve been awful for the baby to have come into this. even D said “even though it’s not about us, it still makes my heart sad”. beautiful little dear-heart boy.

it’s soo strange and ridiculous to me. she’s such an espouser of organic produce, ecofriendly products, natural birth, feminism, sexual equality and anti-discrimination. what’s the fucking point of buying wooden toys and organic food if you’re going to fill your child’s heart with fear and shame and humiliation and rejection all through the goddamned day? fucking hypocrite.

i may be a fish-finger serving, coles-shopping, plastic toy-buying nut, but i am so considered and conscious about D’s self-respect and heart. i cherish so much more the superlatively-many times a day we hug and kiss and explain and learn and gently-guide and overtly appreciate…

anyway, so, new house.

i’m searching through, and applying for both alone / housemate situations. places just for me and my children, vs plus another single mum with her child/ren for communal-esque living and playing.

i’ve started emailing with someone for the latter. and saw a whole bunch of places today for the former.

like this small apartment - 2nd floor, lovely views from the window over rooftops and merri creek. 1br. a communal landing outside the door, at the far end of the complex so is fairly quiet/semi private; could make a small play area there. a lovely large secluded garden at the back of the complex. can walk to merri creek. $210 a week.

hmm….

i don't really know what to do with this depression, or loneliness. it feels like it's something eating me up from the inside out. a shroud dropped over my head, my eyes, my body.

i'm trying things.. this new psychologist, maybe her or someone different. this counsellor i've seen twice already. getting out to do stuff that i might enjoy, and get me out of bed/my head at least, like this new african drumming class, glee club. making sure i make it to work and do enough to stay employed, eg being here today on a saturday to make up for the friday i spent in bed.

and generally on the lookout for new friends. although not having any friends to begin with makes meeting new people doubly difficult. plus there's the ongoing thing of being sure i'm too dull and introverted and low and messy for my company to be enjoyable.

will give it a go anyway.

i feel like the eeyore of the world. i always hated that creature.

looking for new homes is a bit bluemaking too. regardless of what i choose, private-garden or spanky-new or bit-more-space, it's still a place in which i have to sit alone feeling lost and sad and knowing that there's no one in the world effectively who cares about me and who can be there for me. a functional space lined with my bad decisions and damage-caused. a sarcophagus that i will adultly/responsibly seek out and budget for and look after.

being alone is hard. is it meant to be that way? is this something everyone has to deal with but which i've never previously had to?

or is the way i'm alone so unnatural to the human condition? without friend or family or partner or village, just a girl fully functional on the outside in this modern civilisation.

or is this question completely irrelevant?

i'm banging on all the walls of this prison, but not finding anything. how does someone who needs support find it when they have nothing to offer but this blue darkness?