a moment out of love

While I was in the hospital, committed in a mental ward after attempting suicide, a social worker came to talk to me. She asked a lot of questions that had very long answers. She asked about our marriage. She asked about you. When I had finally finished explaining what I felt capable of explaining, and asked how someone who told you that you were the love of their life, their soul mate, their best friend, could abandon you and within a month begin dating again, she answered that she thought it just meant I was a better person than you.

I told her that I knew you were an asshole, but at least you were my asshole.

Eternal Sunshine of the Not-so-Spotless Mind

I still have something to say. I just don't know how to say it all.

Life is rocky. I need to find my voice again; I need to talk, speak, write, shout it out until it is heard, known, understood. I feel sometimes as though I have lost myself. I have defined my life as wife, mother, friend, volunteer, cook, daughter, what-have-you. What I have not defined is me. Although I'm not looking for some definitive label, I am looking for answers that only I can give myself. Who am I? What the hell am I doing with my life? It must not be the right thing if I can still ask and not know the answer, even a little bit. I need to strip away all of the trappings of this crazy life and listen to myself before I speak.