Clowns to the left of me,
Jokers to the right, here I am,
Stuck in the middle with you,
Yes I’m stuck in the middle with you,
Stuck in the middle with you.
– Stealers Wheel
This is me. Stuck. Sometimes it feels like I’m more underneath it all versus stuck in the middle. But nevertheless, it’s not on top or above. Heck, I’d even settle for beside at this point.
What is the middle like? It’s like purgatory, not heaven, but not quite hell. Like being a tween – the perfect descriptor for no longer a child, yet not a teen. It’s like being 9.5 months pregnant & past your due date, not yet a mother, but so over being pregnant you’re screaming just get this kid out of me already. Shall I go on? No? Ok, I guess you get the picture. In essence, it blows. I’m not married, yet I’m not single. I’m stuck.
This entire journey began what will be a year ago, next week. It started with a dialogue. An internet chat among strangers. Someone who would play a brief pivotal role in my life. This is where I took the first steps to becoming free from the oppression and abuse I suffered in my marriage. For me it was like a veil had been lifted from my eyes. An awesome awakening of the spirit inside me. Something I thought had died years before. For quite some time I had been living under a dark cloud, amidst a grey, putrid fog that wafted around me, in and out of me. I was a shell of my former self, pretending to do life, to be happy. But even pretending became too much and those days were far and few between.
But as I said, the veil was lifted. I began to see a new life of wondrous possibilities. The fog rolled away. The clouds dissipated and on the horizon was a long and winding road. I could foresee some mountains and a few valleys along the way. But the miraculous discovery was actually seeing the road. I did have a future. My spirit rebounded from the slow suffocating death and began to breath this new life in. The sweet smell of adventure was all around me.
Fast forward to now…
The clouds are back and I’m missing my view. I can remember how beautiful it was, my view. How it felt standing on the edge of possibility, with my mind and heart racing in anticipation. But even these memories are becoming hazy as the murky fog grows dense. Where was I going again? My road fades. Where is my road?
Is it a surprise to anyone that I’ve been diagnosed as clinically depressed? Well, it is to me. Sure there have been a few warning signs.
- I sleep a lot more. Like today while the kids were in school and then when they got back home. Sleep. It seems like that’s all I want to do. Just pull the covers over my head.
- Then there’s the fact that I don’t want to go out anymore. It pains me to leave the house. Oh how I long for a Merridee’s latte. But I can’t seem to get there. I’ve forced myself to get out a few times. But I tend to go where I won’t see anyone I know and there’s very few people around.
- There’s also the general lack of appetite cohabitating with a constant hunger or thirst. Someone explain that one please.
- In summation of several symptoms, let’s just call them the “I really don’t give a shit” or apathy symptoms. They’re too numerous to mention individually.
This is no surprise the doctor says. It’s normal. It’s part of the process of divorce, the doctor says. The holidays were hard. You’re not making any progress towards reconciliation nor dissolution of your marriage. You’re stuck, the doctor says.
I want my road back.