Love?

Last night, I dreamed I was beginning a romance with a man named Doug. I loved the way I felt in this dream. I felt important, cared about and...well, not lonely.

I box. I sing. I run. I study. I socialize. Even though I am invested in each of these activities, I still feel incomplete. I want somebody to care about me the way Chris cared. He cared about what I did. I did well because he cares. Now I’m not really sure why I do well. I don’t really have a reason. Nobody cares, not the way Chris did.

I want love back in my life.

I’m reading “The Power of Intention” by Wayne Dyer and i’m hoping to begin to create my own destiny. Creating one’s own destiny is hard enough, without the added, seemingly impossible task of recovering from a devastating and profound loss, simultaneously.

Despite the fact that I am suffering from depression, I continue to work, play, sing, box and run. Does that mean that I’m not really depressed? I feel depressed. I mean, I’m just barely hanging on to the slightest amount of interest in any one thing I’m doing these days. I mostly don’t care and I really can’t fathom the idea that I might be finished grieving some day.

I still wish new people I have met knew what happened. I feel a bit silly about that because I don’t really understand it. I feel as though it has something to do with the love I mentioned above. Compassion from others is a good substitute for love, temporarily. The softness of compassion goes a long way. I don’t tell anyone, though. It’s silly.

I’m getting old. I’ll be 40 in 5 weeks and even though I know there is love in my future, I struggle with my fear that nobody is going to want me, because I’m old.

Maybe somebody will.