Do I suck?

I would categorize myself as a fairly confident woman. Not arrogant. Not self absorbed. Confident. Usually, I believe in myself and my abilities. I would even go so far as to say that others would say the same about me. I have always believed my own hype so to speak. I know that if I don't believe in me, then why would anyone else? Having stated that, I will also own up to having bouts of anxiety and I most certainly do not ALWAYS feel said confidence. That's why I said confident and not egotistical a' la Kanye if you get my drift.

I'd also like to believe that I am a fairly good person. I'm bluntly honest and I think I'm a good friend. I believe myself to be a good mother and human being overall. I volunteer in my community. I am smart, strong, loyal and independent. I have a core group of friends that I know would do ANYTHING at all that they could for me. My family relies on me when things get crazy. I'm usually the person that holds it all together for everyone else. Why am I laying out my attributes here to you?

Because I have had the WORSE friggin' year EVER and as a result, I am having a major crisis of faith in myself. I have been fired from two jobs this year alone. One of them that I'd only had for three weeks!!! A job that I thoroughly enjoyed. I thought I'd be there long enough to make some serious power moves in my life. But here we go again... My attitude. How "I come off to people." I'm rude. I'm short. I'm not friendly. I just don't understand why the hell I've been having such a polarizing effect on people here lately. I used to think I was pretty good at what I do. That is until the recent firings. Between that and the full on abandonment of the break up from hell, I'm really starting to question myself. And the question is...Do I Suck?

Seriously. Have I been totally and completely misguided about myself? Am I not any of the things I have always believed myself to be? I used to think that I was going to BE somebody. That I would change things for the better. That I would MATTER. That my advice would have weight and my word would be taken as solid. I thought I was so different. With regards to That Relationship, I look back and realize how smug I was. With my perfect looking man who LOVED me and treated me with respect and loyalty. My idealistic belief that he could see me as a woman, independent of my children and see that despite the baggage that I come with, that I am special. In just one year, I don't really know if I believe any of it anymore.

I don't feel relevant or special or important or useful at all. These days I feel lonely. Useless. Purposeless. Sad. Irrelevant. Embarrassed. I feel like nobody would be proud of me for I have accomplished nothing. I'm speaking strictly of myself here. My children are the ONLY thing keeping me afloat these days. The only reason that I haven't let the darkness completely take over me. Believe me, I have flirted with that idea a whole lot. I have days like today where I could sit and stare at nothing for hours on end. I could stay in bed for days and not give a wit about anything at all. I'm talking about the feeling that if I simply disappeared off the side of the planet right now would anyone notice...?

I'm not looking for some sympathy. I'm not having a pity party. I've just suddenly been gripped with this fear that I'm not the person I used to think I was and if that is indeed true, then Who Am I? What purpose do I serve here? The scary answer to that right now, is I'm nobody. I am nobody that anybody cares about. A person people don't like. Once upon a time I wouldn't have given a shit about that. Today...well...today I am scared. Today I just don't feel secure in what I knew to be reality a mere 24 hours ago. When I've felt down in the past, I knew I had to take the time to wallow in whatever funk I was feeling and move beyond it. This is the first time in my life, I truly don't know how to do that. That paralyzes me with a terror like nothing I have ever felt.

I suppose this is what some might call rock bottom. Others still would categorize this as depression. All I know is that right now, I am deep down in the depths of a despair that I have no idea how to climb out from. I don't want to talk on the phone. I don't want to reach out to friends. I don't want to listen to music or read or work out. I want to be all alone. I want it to be cold and grey and cloudy. I don't care that the bills are due soon and I have no means by which to take care of them. They can take the house, turn off the phones, the sun could quit rising and I don't think I'd really notice.

What does one do when everything that used to matter simply stops? Where did the old me go? Does the old me need to stay gone? Again, I have to ask myself: Do I Suck? I just don't know anymore. And that is the scariest answer of them all...

What I miss.

Sunday is by far the hardest day of the week. I know some of you would have figured it to be Saturday night. The night to go out and usually dance till the ugly lights came on. There is most certainly some of that. No doubt. Sunday though...that's the killer. Rainy Sundays actually. There is a pain in the chest. A closing of the throat. So may fresh tears shed. Nothing hurts more than a rainy Sunday.

You see, that was the day. To just be together. There are things that couples do. Routines they fall into. Habits get formed. Especially after a long period of time in a relationship. Hanging out with someone for 8 years...four of them being intimate...well, there's a whole lot of habit and routine to adjust to no longer having. I don't struggle with all of this nearly as much on any other day of the week. The loneliness always shines so bright on Sunday.

When you love someone, truly love them...the simplest act can be transformed into a moment. Waking up to him making me breakfast in bed. After breakfast we would usually climb back in bed to watch movies. Especially if it was raining. It got to the point over time where he would say it before I could. "Look baby, it's a rainy Sunday." There is something so delicious about cooking with the one that you love while your favorite set list plays in the background. Sharing a bottle of wine. Sitting on the couch together while he played with my hair. It was comfortable. Sexy. Romantic. It was...love.

There are so many Sundays to choose from when you have that long of a time together. Those long Sunday drives with the top down. Destination nowhere and that was perfectly fine. Reading together at the coffee shop. Picnics under a tree. Laying together in the hammock we picked up in Puerto Rico. Reading in bed together, both of us in our glasses. Pizza from our favorite Italian hole-in-the-wall. Dinner with his parents. Me cooking at my place for the entire Puerto Rican clan. Him teaching her how to dance while she stood on his feet. Laying across his chest when I was falling asleep.

So these last 51 weeks of Sundays have cut through my heart. There have been so many sunsets and rainstorms and dinners and songs and stories that I wish with all my soul I could have shared with him. So many quiet beautiful moments lost. So many gentle touches and warm looks; opportunities that have just...passed us by. Does he wake up on a rainy Sunday and think about any of it? Do I cross his mind? I think the worse part is that I know the answer to that question is yes and it doesn't matter anyway.

Simply put, I know that over time the pain will subside. The memories will fade. And I hate that I'm afraid of that happening. Why do we build these beautiful relationships and memories and then have to sit by and wait for them to fade away? It all feels so sad. What was the point of it all? All I know for certain is that at this moment, on this particularly low Sunday, being with him is what I miss.