So I'm in the grocery store looking at the microwavable dinners and it hits me like a sack of bricks. I start tearing up realizing I'm 37 years old, alone, looking at instant dinners.
Thoughts of being undesirable single; thoughts I have no one to cook for; thoughts I have no one that wants to cook for me; no one who loves me in that way.
No amount of thinking about how great it is to have friends, or that I have wonderful daughters, or that most of my past relationships created some unique happiness can undo the feeling - I'm about to loose it right there in the frozen food isle.
I zoned out and checked out. I'm glad no one stopped and asked if I was OK, because I would have lost it. I was too sensitive and vunerable at the time to do anything else.
Thoughts of non-attachment; thoughts that we are all alone, even when we think we have someone; thoughts if the person I loved died, what would I do, thoughts that I delude myself thinking someone has the same feelings I do.
I miss the illusion that someone loves me for me. I'm unsure of myself to trust I can do it since I thought someone loved me and I was wrong. The shared illusion - that I was loved and loved someone - was in fact a delusion; only I felt that way. Makes me feel like I'm unskilled and unable to figure it out through clarity of thought, it must be blind luck - and I don't feel lucky.
Being present in the moment helps me live through these times, but it is very unpleasant. I'd much rather intellectualize the fact that life is a gift and we are alone while smothered in the glorious shared illusion of being loved.
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