Tears of a clown

It’s safe to say I’ve spent an inordant amount of time crying over the last few years.  Quite frankly I’m bored of it.  I used to cry and cry asking why can’t I just be happy.  Why can everyone else feel this magical feeling but me.  I chased things thinking once I’d ticked the thing of my list I would ‘be happy’.  Engagement, buying a house, wedding, getting pregnant.  But none of those things ever fulfilled me. I was still yet to feel complete. 

I’ve experience a lot of loss throughout my life and it wasn’t until I started seeing a councillor that I realised I had never really grieved for my losses. I was too busy trying to prop other people up and make sure they were ok to worry or take time to think about what was going on inside of me. 

This week would have been my uncles birthday. Apart from my mum and dad he was the closest family member I had in my huge family of 5. I still think of things I want to call and tell him about. I still imagine him giving me a hug so tight he hurts my flabby arms. As he was a twin with my mum it always makes her birthday hard to celebrate. This coupled with the fact she is an alcoholic makes for a disastrous combination. I’ve been on the receiving end of abuse tonight. This Groundhog Day I find myself living in is so boring. 

Where can I find my happy?

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