When I first got to town, I was taking classes at a yoga studio in which there were several pregnant women in the classes and lots of pregnancy talk. I wasn’t bothered by it like I used to be. Progress!
In my small sewing class, there’s a young twentysomething woman who is engaged and several times she has talked to her fiancee on the phone. Lots of “love you” in those conversations. Again, I seem to have a wall up against letting that stuff affect me now.
I can see, though, why I had to get out of here in my thirties.
I’m still having bouts of terrible insomnia, much like I did when I moved to L.A. I try to just accept them these days, but when I’m going through it, I tend to feel self-destructive. I’ve been experimenting with different thought patterns recently, and when I’m tossing and turning I try to visualize myself as surrounded by the love and adoration of friends and family and their soothing embraces.
The sad thing is, I can’t connect to those images. I’ve had to wall myself up against so much disappointment that I’ve lost touch with those expectations and desires.
I don’t think this is all that unusual. Who among us hasn’t been disappointed with our parents, our boyfriends, our friends? I just think that at this moment in time I’m feeling particularly cut off in every area. My mom is getting more difficult as she ages, I’ve lost the bulk of my former friends to marriage and kids, and the dating landscape is a bit of a desert.
Time to rebuild.