Dark Day

Sometimes, I fall into a dark day. I use to live there for weeks at a time so an occasional dark day is really no big deal as long as I don’t act on it. I sit in it for hours. Life feels pointless.

I’m a 59-year-old single woman. I’ve been single for the last ten years. There are times when I think having a partner would bring purpose to my life. I’m quite happy having my time to myself. I’m not obligated to anything. However, having a partner would make me accountable. I would wake to someone. Love on this someone. Do laundry for this someone. And bake potatoes for this someone. Life wouldn’t seem to be all about me. I don’t like life being all about me.

It’s not my intention to say I’m not important. I’m as important as the person sitting on my left in my doctor’s waiting room. I can see my eyes reflected in a mirror and say you matter. On dark days, I don’t believe this but do know it’s important to act as if I believe this. My actions can dissolve the dark and I can wake in light even before having the chance to turn on the lamp.

I matter to my cats who depend on me to feed them and clean their litter box twice a day. In return, they sit on my lap and purr or stretch out beside me when I lay in bed. They let me pet them under their chin and on their nose. I love them like I do ice on a hot day or toothpaste after vomiting. I love them like I did my partner for the 15 years we were together.

I matter to my roommate who trusts that I’ll pay the mortgage, electric bill and the television bill. I’m certaiin I mean more to her than just paid expenses. Occasionally, we’ll exchange I love yous. We’ve been living together for ten years. In ten years a bond has indeed been made. My roommate would say she knows me as she knows that bread needs butter. I know her less well because she is a very private person. But I do know her like chocolate syrup melting vanilla ice cream. My life is vey scheduled. She says she could set a clock by my daily activities. Not that she needs to, but she reminds me at night to take my medication. She does not want me to go all crazy on her.

I spoke to my therapist today. She asked me if I was taking my medication as subscribed. Answer, yes. I believe my recovery is 60% medication and 40% actions. Writing this blog is part of my action. Often times, I can write myself out of the gloom.

I have many friends and loved ones who would be sad should I take my own life. When I can’t live for myself, I live for them.

The dark is still with me. I’m praying for a glow to warm my soul. My god is big. A friend reminded me that God has my back.

Today is half over. Tonight John is treating myself and my roommate to an Italian dinner at a local restaurant in celebration of my 30 years of sobriety. A smile should crack my frown once there.