February

The opening line in The Waste Land is, "April is the cruelest month." Literary criticism says the whole idea is that April reminds us of the promise of renewal - the rebirth that occurs every spring. For some that can be depressing and difficult... while spring can be a promise, it is often a promise that goes unfulfilled. Life can be hard and it's not always easy to see the hope, believe in the hope. When that's the reality of your life, something like spring can be more of a downer than uplifting. What makes it all so cruel is seeing it happen - seeing it happen for others - and not experiencing it for yourself... not being able to find it anywhere, anyway you turn.

For me, February is the cruelest month. It's about love and romance, it's about couples and togetherness and sickening sweet commercials espousing the need to give chocolates and flowers and jewelry to prove a perfect relationship. And, hey - just for giggles and grins, let's throw in my failed marriage anniversary and boy, do we have a recipe for a crappy month or what? Time will pass, commercials will cease, life will go back to normal. I feel like I bury my head every February and don't pull it back out until the 15th. Gosh this is depressing.

I went to therapy today... and, of course, as it always happens, I go thinking I want to discuss one thing and end up discussing something else. I have wondered for awhile now if I should say something to my ex, have a heart to heart of sorts concerning his lack of contact and interaction with the kids. The therapist and I discussed it some today and she pretty much told me it would do no good - not for me and not for the kids. I am the one person who knows the situation with the kids the best. I know their fears and attitudes, their pain and their triumphs. I am, however, the one person he will not listen to because I am, after all, the person he chose to paint as the villain. I can't tell you how good it feels, how powerful it is, to hear someone else say it - say it was what it was. He made me the bad guy and the symbol for his unhappiness and it took me a while to figure that out - because gee, as I've said so many times before, he was so damn nice about it. The nice, God, the nice made me think I was crazy! But I sit in therapy and we're discussing this stuff and she looks at me and says - you were the dumping ground - and it's awesome to hear someone say it. It stops me in my tracks, like it's the very first time I've heard it, and all I can say to her is thank you.

And that, all that, is where the disdain for this month comes. It's hard to think you can ever be worthy of love when someone works really hard to prove to you, and to himself, you aren't. That, that's the crux. He lied to me - he lied to himself - and I vacillate back and forth between feeling sorry for him because of how pathetic that is and hating him for punishing me and being so damn cruel and leaving me with so much shit to deal with and overcome. This month is a symbol for all of it and it brings it all up, it picks the scab off the wound and it hurts.

Hey, all I want is a night out... dinner, a glass or two of really good wine, a movie... I want to flirt and smile and laugh. Simple huh? Obviously not.