Whispers

I hate these days when the brain incessantly whispers negative nonsense on a loop, with hopes of dragging you down into the muck.  I have done better over the past years with kicking out the whispers, but sometimes they are so relentless that it takes every ounce of my energy to get out of bed and face the day.  It has taken me many years to beat being raised a pessimist and to find the positives in seemingly hopeless situations.  Like most of us, I can offer a slew of positives to those around me when they are down, but for myself? I am sometimes left sorting out scraps.

 

My fortieth birthday was last Tuesday.  I don't know if it contributes or not--maybe a little.  I guess I did have some hope that since it was a milestone, that perhaps I would at least hear from my grandmother.  Nothing.  But I guess I shouldn't be surprised--thirteen years ago, my Grandfather died days before my birthday.  So in those years following, the family's excuse was that my birthday was a reminder of his death.  The years before that?  Well, who knows?  Truth is, even as a child, I felt the outsider and treated differently.  Now that I am actually alienated from the family, why should I expect things to be different?  Ah, how the heart holds out hope and longs for events that the brain knows will never occur.