Moving forward with baggage as heavy as dark matter

Remember how I couldn't sleep? Well, I've gone to the opposite extreme now: all I want to do is sleep. I slept on and off all day yesterday, then finally fell asleep last night near 2:00 AM and slept until 9:00 this morning. Took a nap this afternoon, too.

Not a dream to be had. Not one. Shocking, I know.

For all the sleep, I still have zero energy, so that's fun. But at least time sleeping is time that I'm not sitting here missing Doug, so I guess I'll take it.

Had my weekly session with Grace the Grief counselor today. I'm still not seeing any benefit to this at all. We talked about my lack of hope, and she repeated what she says every week: I may not believe I'll ever have hope again, but she does. Well, bully for her!

We also discussed how my grief is complicated by my history of anxiety and overthinking and desire for control in a situation that's largely unknown and uncontrollable - that's going to be Brooke's problem to help me through, though, as Grace is strictly grief counseling. 

The largest part of our session, though, was spent digging into something that I haven't shared publicly before, because I - I guess I don't want to be seen as a traitor to the feminist cause, but...

Look, I know that people who know me see me as a very strong, independent, ambitious, career-driven woman. And while it's true that I am strong, independent, and ambitious, and while it's very true that I LOVE the career in which I've landed (largely by very happy accident - and I wouldn't trade it for anything), the truth is that I never wanted a career. From the time I was a little girl, all I wanted out of life (aside from being on Broadway, but I think we can all agree THAT ship has sailed) was to have a long, happy marriage and to be a mother.

I managed to achieve the motherhood goal, and with great success: I couldn't have had a better child than Andrew if I could have individually picked out every quality, every characteristic, and every personality trait. My son is the best child I could ever have hoped for.

But the long, happy marriage? THAT eluded me, until Doug. And I think part of my sadness and bitterness (because, oh - I'm bitter) is that I FINALLY got that happy marriage, but for only FOUR MONTHS? How is that okay? How am I supposed to be okay with that? We didn't even get to start our marriage before it was over.

And the simple truth is that I don't want to spend the rest of my life sleeping alone. But the only man I want sleeping beside me is the man I can't have, so where does that leave me? Either I have to accept that I'll be lonely in my bed every night for the rest of my life (which, frankly, isn't a life I find worth living), or I'll have to make a choice - at some point in the future - to start dating again. And that's a problem for several reasons, not the least of which is that it would feel like cheating on Doug: I didn't promise to love him until the day HE died; I promised to love him until the day I die. The other problem is that I don't know if I can ever let myself love anyone again and risk hurting like this a second time. Not to mention that the men weren't beating my door down when I was young and beautiful, so the odds aren't good for me there.

And that, folks, is why I feel so trapped: the one big goal I still had for my life before Doug - a long and happy marriage - I haven't achieved. And the thought of starting over again is as terrifying as spending every night in a cold, empty bed. The thought of ever dating again - the rejection, the kissing of far too many frogs, the fear that I'd slip back into my old pattern of choosing men who don't really love me - it's paralyzing.

And yes, I know a lot of people probably think of marriage as a frivolous goal. I mean, what kind of modern woman needs a man to be happy, right? I get that. I used to feel that way too, until I met Doug. I thought solo life could be every bit as fulfilling as marriage. I was wrong - for me, not necessarily for you. I'm better when I'm part of a healthy couple: I'm kinder, and less selfish, and I work better as part of a team. I like my solitude - that's true - but as a palate cleanser and not the entire meal. I loved being married to Doug (and for the record, I'm counting all the time we lived together before marriage as 'married' time, because the only thing missing was the certificate). I loved the inside jokes, and the companionship, and the affection, and the partnership, and the sex, and just being part of something more important than me.

I think that's a big part of the reason why I have no hope for the future: there's only one achievement I haven't unlocked, and now I don't see any way that I can. And without achievable goals to motivate us, what are we doing here?