How I Lost Half of Me But Became Whole: I will be reborn from this fire

Advice from Kristin Armstrong from Mile Markers.

I miss him. I miss him so it hurts.

I have always thought Edgar Allan Poe's Raven is horrifying, deeply sad and menacing... I never thought it would be about me. Never more, the Raven quoth...

Någon djupt förtvivlad kvinna,
som sitt sista hopp sett svinna
har till slut ej kunnat finna
annat uttryck eller fler,
har ej som hoppets svansång funnit andra eller fler
än de orden: "Aldrig mer".

It is as if he was dead and it was my words that killed him from me.

I know it's stupid to mourn something that never existed, and it's stupid to waste tears over a person who obviously isn't worth it. I suppose I'm crying because I wanted something to exist worth mourning, and I wanted to be enough not to be treated like this.
I didn't want to have a crush on him, but I sure didn't want to mean nothing to him either.
I thought he might see me as a person interesting enough to be friends with.
And I'm not.
I thought he was glad to see me, as glad as I was to see him.
I thought he enjoyed reading my mails and text messages. I thought he would smile when he saw a message from me in his phone or mailbox, open it with expectations and emerge from the reading with joy. I wanted to bring him joy and pleasure, brighten up his days, be a light in a gray day...
and I was nothing. Just another job. One face among the dozens that go through his work days.

I suppose I'm mourning that.

And the thought that I really don't have the slightest idea of when people are lying, scares me. I wouldn't know if people are really being kind and interested and open and sincere, and meaning what I think they mean... I compare myself to what the world obviously appreciates, and I fall short all the time. I'm not pretty, I'm fat, I'm... weird, too much wrong things, too little right things... why would I go out to the world where I am not amazing, wonderful, beautiful and lovely, which I am within the walls of my home?

And all this advice about regretting not doing things...

I told him I have a crush on him because... I really don't know why I did that. I was being desperate of losing him, losing the activity that made me feel good about myself... oh dear... I felt equal.

I don't feel equal with my family. They are all older and have jobs and money and life in order - at least to some level. They are all adults and functional and productive members of the society. I am not.

The only person I feel equal with is my husband.
Then there was this work coaching thingy. And now it's gone, and gone in a way that makes me feel the equality I assumed existed was only that... assumptions. Imaginary, make-believe.

And I'm ashamed of being so stupid to think there was something that was not. Ashamed of believing I could be worth that... ashamed of believing I could be seen as equal by other people. How could I have the audacity to think I'm anything but... slightly annoying, a small disturbance, a little uncomfortable, tiny nuisance, a piece of garbage flying in the wind... not enough of anything to be noticed.

I'm ashamed of having read people so wrong, allowing myself to imagine... I should have known better. Once again, I have let my hopes and dreams lead me to create a pretty paper world, I have trusted people who really weren't up to it... and the worst part of this is that I really cannot blame them.
They are not bad people.
They didn't hurt me because they wanted to hurt me.
They didn't think much of me because they thought little of me, they didn't give me the respect I deserve because they denied me it... it just never was there - for them.

Throwing a piece of trash away is not intended as an insult to the piece of trash, but the piece of trash sure feels like being insulted, if it doesn't realize it's a piece of trash.