The last year can be summed up in one word. Confusion. Every aspect of my life is filled with confusion. Today left me confused for various reasons.
I lost a family member today. He committed suicide. I haven’t seen him for probably ten years, but I connected with him on social media and I have many many fond memories of family holidays spent with him. He was the youngest of four children. Very quiet. A loner. He didn’t say much but he smiled. He was happy. Or was he? He was going through a divorce. Why is it that relationships fucks a person up so much that they are driven to take their own life? I would never ever have put him in the at risk of committing suicide group. Never. It’s left the whole family in a state of confusion. He never spoke about it. He didn’t tell anyone what he was experiencing that drove him to this act? Why?? Why the fuck do men think it’s ok to keep and hold all the crap that they experience, bottled up inside. Whey are men emotionally so unsure of sharing their fears and their feelings? Especially with the people that loves them.
I am so torn by my role as a mother. There are so many days that I feel that I’m not a good mother. I’ve lost connection with my maternal instinct. I always judged people harshly that abandon their kids and run off. But I can see how that is possible. Not because you don’t love your child anymore. I would lay down my life for my child, but there is always the nagging feeling that I’ve messed my life up so bad that I can’t possibly be a good role model for her. I live a strange life now. One of confusion.
Writing this I realise this is the one thing I yearn for so so much. Security. I don’t have it. I am left unsure and confused many times. And when I’m uncertain, I act differently. I make snide remarks, I drop hints. I fucking hate that. I’m a great believer of NOT dropping hints, but asking directly. Maybe it’s the few answers I do get, that I don’t like.
Confusion is changing me. For better or worse, I don’t know.