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Short one today....time to go be wreck again.

I was with my partner for 12 years. We were married. We had built a life together. All be it a very shitty and hard life at times, but a life none the less. We loved hard, we fought hard, we lived hard. I had never been with anyone before her. High school sweet hearts. All our firsts were done together. Jobs, moving out of home, moving interstate, getting animals, university, the list goes on and on. When I was her, that was my 'to do' list. Always focusing on our firsts. We were so so in love and we thought nothing would ever get in the way of us. But the world was not on our side. Her family was pretty...i'll say difficult at times. And really so was mine but in two very different ways. Being two girls in a committed relationship did not go down well and it did not help create that support system that I now realise we really needed. That's not to say we didn't have a support system, we did, but it was also combined with family members and friends who wanted nothing but to see us fail. I'm not sure if I should go into details about the relationship because going through 12 years of details, could take a long long time. But I do have a little nagging feeling that maybe to whoever reads this in the future, those details might help in someone else's journey. One of the only things I have been able to successfully do, is research about break ups as if I was 16 years old, asking google things like "will my ex ever come back to me?" and "how do I show my ex they made a mistake?". Did Elle Woods do this? I can't help but relate myself to the scene in Legally Blonde where she's laying in bed, mouth stuffed with decadent chocolates, watching a midday soap tv show. Becoming so appalled with a completely unrelatable character professing his love for his co-star, she launches the chocolates at the small classic 2000's TV screen yelling "LIAR". But that's where I realise I'm not Elle Woods. My friends aren't on the other side of the door making sure I'm ok. They aren't about to bust in telling me to get up and make something of myself. Why? Well...for that I would need to have some friends. I mean I do have some, but they have lives and probably aren't aware of how deeply I feel about this. But then again, I don't think they want to be aware because it might mean they have some responsibility towards the situation. I'm not judging. It's just...sad and lonely. There is that word...lonely. Does anyone else think that word is misunderstood? I do.

I don't consider myself a writer and certainly don't think I'm any good at using the English language as a way to express my inner thoughts. It really has never been my forte. Expressing myself in a verbal and written sense is foreign and often leads others to the completely wrong track about what I really feel...what I really want. But then I find myself here, aiming to somehow put pen to paper, but in a more modern 21st century type of way. I am a millennial after all. Tumblr fell off my radar quite a number of years ago. I would say around 2014, when I thought my life was difficult but now I just think that maybe I liked it being that way. So here I am again, using it in a way I never thought I would. As a blog. My blog. Kind of feels good to say that because I'm not sure there is anything else I can happily say is mine. My life, not happy. My home: not mine. My assets: as if. My job: don't get me started. My health: hanging by a thread. This modern day diary might be the only thing that will get me out of bed each morning as I wake and come to realise after about one to two seconds...that there isn't much actually getting out of bed for. That the life I had hoped for and maybe had lived for a period, either doesn't exist anymore or never had existed. So this will be considered as my millennial awakening. My friend. And it has, like any other friend, the ability to break me or help me excel. No, excel is the wrong word. Help me....walk and maybe one day learn to run. Who am I kidding, I don't run. Jog. Lightly jog. I suppose, if anyone is reading (probably just myself) this will be a take on...my life. In all it's absolutely shitty glory. I read so many of these blogs written by people who weren't successful but then found their success because they broke through the hard times. Because they got up at 4am and meditated and had gratitude and never stopped working at that daily grind. Let me assure you, that is not the case here. I don't think success is around the corner the harder I try. I think that many people, just like me, need these stories. Need to see they aren't wrong in how they feel or what they think. That some of us aren't dealt with one shitty hand. That we are dealt with many shitty hands. That sometimes, people don't care. And yes, I know that whilst I write this there is that small amount of hopefulness that things could turn around. And if they do, awesome. I can then write about that and appeal to a different set of people. But for the last 29 years, what I've attempted to work towards, has led me to this moment. And in this moment I am lonely, sad, unsuccessful and still in my pajamas at 1pm. What am I meant to write about? Myself? My journey? This is weird and even weirder that I would expect anyone to care. People say you only need one person to care and that is of course, yourself. Is there anyone out there who actually believes that? Aren't we taught to socialise and accept and help others on their journey to self discovery? Doesn't that mean that others would have to care? Are we not in a way, pack animals who crave to be around others, always talking, always sharing, always needing affection and reassurance? So, yes I do expect others to care. How ridiculous.