Have you ever seen that show “Ridiculousness”? It’s kind of like an MTV version of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Frankie loves it. He laughs hysterically when he watches it. I was laying in bed tonight when my head started blogging. Ridiculousness came to mind. I knew it had to be the title. Not because it’s funny. It’s the opposite. It comes from a very, very dark place.
Every once in a while I fall into this black hole. Intellectually I can totally dismantle its validity. In my mind I know it’s unhealthy junk. But emotionally I just can’t help myself. Twenty years of therapy on and off and I still battle my dark demons. Ridiculous.
I’m not sure what to call it. Depression? Probably in part. I hate it. It actually embarrasses me because it’s so pitiful and lacking in self worth. Definitely sadness. Can’t stop crying when I’m in it. On the surface, I am a pretty confident, outgoing woman. I’m relatively realistic about my strengths and weaknesses. I am aware I have much to offer the world. I am aware that in my own little corner of it, I have indeed offered the world my heart and soul and others have benefited from it. But in that dark place, I am scared- no petrified, that most people hate me. In a phrase? I’m unloveable. What is possessing me to write about it for others to see I have no idea, but I’m going with it.
About 15 years ago, I was working at a place and was getting ready to leave to dive into my practice. I was an email buddy with my co-worker’s husband and one time I felt like he pushed the writing a little too far and I told him to back off. Soon after that he excluded from his wife’s surprise party and then proceeded to let me know that it was intentional. He said I was a “liberal weirdo” and that everyone at work hated me and I was too stupid to realize it. Now, I had several co-workers assure me that wasn’t the case. And I knew he was lashing out because he was embarrassed that I called him out on something. But did any of that logic matter? Nope. Bingo. He hit me it my darkest fear. I was right, I’m not loveable.
The other night I had a very vivid, long, detailed dream. It was one of those non-sensical ones that is bizarre in details but crystal clear in meaning. I was with a group of people and I think we were actors of some sort. I had the distinct feeling that no one liked me and eventually people started to verbalize it. Then this mandate came down that every person had to find a twin to wear an identical costume with. It was obvious this order came down for one reason- to show me in a very tangible way that no one wanted to be my partner. I verbalized this to everyone. “Oh, I see. The purpose of this little exercise is to prove to me that I am alone.” They all jeered and laughed because it was true. There was one actor there (the guy from Mall Cop, go figure!) who I somehow sensed felt differently about it, but I couldn’t prove it. He was pouring drinks for everyone as they were having a celebratory toast. The occassion? Making me realize how disliked I was. However, I soon had the last laugh because I told them they were wrong and this guy did value me because he poured bitter liquid in their glasses. They were all spitting it out. I told them that he knew everyone of them would drink it but me.
I have no idea who that man was supposed to represent… God? And in a sense it was a positive ending. But I didn’t wake up feeling positive. I thought it was a horrible dream. Just awful. And I was even disgusted because I think I have it more together than to have that kind of deep seeded lack of self love to generate such dreams.
I’m sure there are many layers, but on at least one level, I think the “twin” represents a partner to me. In high school, I rarely had boyfriends. I met my first husband in Bible College. We divorced and then I spent seven years alone. Then I married Tim and we were together just a decade before he died. Here I am at 45, facing a birthday next week, and alone again. Dating, maybe, but not partnered.
I leave Sunday for my 25 year college reunion. It will be awesome. But I think it is part of the turmoil of my sleep. I remember attending the 10 year reunion, freshly divorced. I knew everyone was aware that my former husband was the one people were talking about because he became an atheist after our marriage. Tim and I attended my 15th reunion and for a brief, shining moment, I had a husband and baby by my side. Now I will attend my 25th. Alone again. Naturally.
No twin. No one that loves me so much they want to world to know by making me thier wife. I hate being a widow. I hate being a single mom. My loving friends point out that probably no one else will be able to say they are publishing a book. And I’m publishing a GREAT book!! I truly am proud of it. But I also realize that the ache in my heart isn’t about acheiving something extraordinary. It’s about being in the norm- having a significant other. I think that is part of my roller coaster of emotions about the success of the book. I want to revel in it, but I still haven’t acheived what my heart aches to- feeling loveable. Being someone’s favorite person. Being someone’s twin.
It’s ridiculous because I have more than one amazing person in my life. I am truly lucky and blessed to have family and friends that are astounding in thier loyalty and kindness. I know it frustrates them to some degree to know how much they care about me and extend themselves to me, yet I still fall down the rabbit hole sometimes. I truly love and appreciate them. And they fill a very real need and void in my life. But there is a void no friend or sister or father can fill.
I hate how pitiful it all sounds. And I intellectually know better. But for today, Thursday, my heart has fallen into the abyss. I won’t stay there. But it’s a dark night and I am truly praying for less ridiculous dreams tonight. Don’t give up on me, though. The positive Darcy will emerge again soon 🙂