Sad Face in Never Say Never

There are a handful of words that just keep swirling around in my head. They are
heartbroken
inconsolable
disaster
sad
lonely
grief

Do you want to write a story for our “Train Wreck” show, the director of the storytelling series asks me. I explain that the nature of a person who is identifying as a train wreck is that that person could not possibly get it together to write a story in time to participate in said show.

I lie in bed and think, “What I probably need right now is a good, old-fashioned cry.” And when I start to cry, I think about my poodle – gone – my job at DailyCandy – gone – Patrick – gone – my mother – gone. I inventory the great loss in my life and think, “How can a person be expected to go on?”

I think about how I would like to have some prescription drugs for just such an occasion. I know my beliefs against them are standing in my way of some relief.

I reach out across the wide emotional gap between me and my boyfriend. He’s smart, and surely I can find the right words and the right tone to tell him I am lonely and sad. To explain that I need him and that I feel so alone without accusing him of failing me. And that I need him to provide some comfort to me. And I do find the right words and the right tone, but it doesn’t work. He says he doesn’t understand what I mean. He says he’s not prepared to have this conversation with me. He is not unkind. He is just not equipped. And all I can do is accept that for now.

Sharing my grief in long calls on the phone with a couple of friends helps – not everyone is not equipped – but it doesn’t ease the anxiety of a long life and a hungry heart.

Last updated October 20, 2014