Writing is my therapy. I have been writing the same thing over and over, trying to process what’s going on in my mind.

It’s a fucking mess up there.

I’ve almost gotten to a point where I think I should see an actual psychologist for this matter. Like, legitimately. My brain is swirling and swirling like a mass of word tornados.

I type.

I delete.

Why? I can’t share it. It doesn’t make sense to me, so how can I expect it to make sense to anyone else?

Writing is tricky for me. I write what I feel. I have never had any desire to hide what I feel or what I want to say.

Until now.

For the last few weeks, my heart, my mind, my very SOUL are all aching. I’m not sad. I am not angry. I feel the missing piece. I am entirely too emotional.

I even agreed to, then canceled a date, for tomorrow. I just don’t think it would be fair to the guy, because he’s so nice, and super cool. Maybe if I’d have met him at a different time.

I want the piece to my puzzle, and I can’t make any piece fit. It has to be the right one. Hell, just writing this is making me emotional. Maybe I need to quit listening to the old school slow jams, and get out of my feels.

Or maybe I need to get deeper into my feels, and examine. Is that REALLY what I am feeling? Or maybe I’m just overthinking everything? What is this, I feel? Is it Lust, Love, Infatuation, Hate, Curiosity, Fear, Excitement, Happiness, Confusion?

I mentioned this before, and I feel like it fits into this particular entry. I went on a date with an architect and he thought dating would be the last thing on my agenda, because of my “history”. Meaning my widowhood. I ALMOST took offense, but he doesn’t know me. Hell, I didn’t even know what I was about to say was 100% truth.

I’m young.

I am good alone, and I am enhanced in a relationship.

I am a giver. It’s in my nature. I like balance. It’s part of who I am. My 2 favorite genres of movies are horror movies and Christmas movies, if that helps explain my need for balance. HA

I told him, “I’m still young. I still function. And I don’t want to die old and alone. I don’t think my husband would want that for me, as it’s a sad life, for someone who doesn’t want it.”

So, with the thing I just keep typing and deleting, I hope I can figure it out. I just need to process. I’ll type it until it makes sense. I may get out an old school notebook and pen, and try to put words on paper, and figure out my mind. Have you ever tried to figure out a woman’s brain? Good Lord, me either. Only my own and usually it’s pretty easy. This… This is some major woman brain shit. I’m baffled and I can’t imagine being a man or a lesbian. Or anyone who dates women.

If most women are like I am in this moment, I apologize on behalf of my species of human. I have never not been able to process. We might be crazy. Every last one of us. (I feel like one of “those” girls. Even though that’s a bunch of bullshit some men say when a woman has opinions or feelings about ANYTHING.)


I WILL figure myself out. I am determined. I need a time-out.

One of “Those” Girls

2 thoughts on “I Am Broken

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