An outpouring of?

 Oh the world of/in/after Covid!

I seem to have turned into a rather anxious person these past months. 
Not the trait I or anyone who knows me, would have associated me with!
Whether it is traveling solo, something I lived for and did a lot of pre-pandemic,
Or questioning my abilities when it comes to writing,
Or even when it comes to relationships, be it friends, lovers, or family.
I’m jittery. And it takes very little to get me there, too!

I really didn’t have much to say on here these past few years.
Life had an acquired momentum: mundane job, food and drink, friends,
Made up the usual week, month, year…
Then of course 2020 happened.
To us all.
I was lucky to have friends on the same street, so I was not completely isolated in lockdowns.
I also had a special someone, an honest to god boyfriend.
Was not looking for one, didn’t expect to acquire one at 40!
The daily connects and video calls kept me sane.
I didn’t really complain too much about loneliness and lockdown.
Working from home full-time suited me, too.

But then came 2022. And with it, somehow, from somewhere, ANXIETY.
I realize some of it is related to age and hormones,
Some to family issues and forever being put down.
Some yes to that same boyfriend.
Our relationship went from loving and cute,
To questioning, suffocating, unbearable.
I held on for as long as I could.
And then I just couldn’t anymore.

Ending it was such a weight off my chest.
To not have to worry about how he’d take something.
Or figure out how to spin my having met up with a friend,
Or planned a vacation, or basically even slept early and not responded to messages,
For not being “in the mood”...felt like I was walking on eggshells.

There were times when my being slightly needy caused a reaction.
Other times, I was accused to giving love and attention to everyone but him.
He talked a good talk, but at the end of the day, was never able to be there for me.
Somehow when I really needed him, he couldn’t give.
And yet for two years all I did was give and give.
By the end, I was drained – reached a point where I had nothing more.
I invested in him in every way, wanting him to succeed, wanting him to be happy.
But he just got more and more angry and miserable, and me, more unsure.

So I ended it, and it broke my heart.
I miss the good times and the dear sweet man-child he could be. I understand now, that I enjoyed mothering him, weird as that may sound. Liked taking care of him, being friend/lover/guide. He was mine to love and protect. I miss his hugs, and the nonchalant way he’d kiss me hello or bye in public. How he insisted that we end the day only after talking to each other. I miss having someone to spend weekends with, make the simplest of plans like what to cook, what to watch, where to go. A partner who had to dance with me when I demanded.

A little something with someone happened recently, months after this ended. Frothy and light are the terms of engagement. Ironically, it is making me miss him more. But I also know he was too emotional, too insecure, too filled with rage and hurt from his past. And unwilling to work through it. So, it had to be goodbye…

As for this remaining anxiety, it is affecting my ability to concentrate, focus, work.
I can’t watch a movie or show anymore without stopping every 20 mins or less.
I – who could binge watch an entire show in a day and night!
Same goes for research and writing – my bread and butter!
I have also lost confidence and comfort in my ability to write what I have to for work.
Might be a weird analogy, but it reminds me of how I felt about cooking for many years.
Too much responsibility – I’ll do the dishes instead! I have no issues editing and rewriting and such. But creating grips me in anxiety. 

Hot flashes, racing heart, sleeplessness. These gifts of being at the age and stage I am,
Don’t help any, either!
Neither does the guilt I feel for oh so many things.
Whether it is the fractured relationship I have with my mother;
That my dad is who, what, where he is.
That I can and should be a better daughter to them both.
We are each of us, alone, struggling, unable however to be one family unit.
But for my mental health, I know without a doubt, that I cannot do more or be around either,
Any longer than I manage now.

I also am working through other unnamed, unprocessed, feelings.
Of not doing my best at work, just doing the minimum to keep from failing or it becoming obvious how lackluster I am.
Of being with someone so much younger and at such a different stage of life, than me. 
Of giving in to the comfort of this boy knowing full well it is temporary. But unable to deny myself this little bit of fun and romance. Even this is causing anxiety! 

I know I want more for myself, I hope for it, and tell myself too, that I deserve more. 
But the reality is, he’s here in the present and he does make me smile. I always feel things and people happen in life for a reason. 
I’m also vaguely amused that I attract the young ‘uns. After all when I was their age, I liked much older men!
Irony of ironies, right?! I also am cognizant of and grateful for being able to indulge in the loving that comes my way.
Yes once again I find myself giving and doing more, taking care of – but I love making another happy.
And so it is, a lesson learnt about myself – I take  pride and pleasure in making others smile,
In doing for them, in small ways, that are not life changing, but mood enhancing and happiness producing. I have always been so with friends, now have reached a stage where I’m like that with a lover too.
Enough of games and rules, and terms and conditions, thank you but no thank you.
I’ll be me: warm, loving, crazy, silly.
The fact is that l have so much love and affection still, to give...