She'd hated every job she'd had. She'd fallen out with her family. She was always struggling for money. Her children did not respect her. Her love life had been one long trail of cheating men.
"Why?" she shouted at the empty room. "Please will someone tell me why?"
She knew she was a nice person, a good person. She tried her best to be good and kind. And yet life had not been kind to her.
"Why?" she cried in despair, "Why, why, why, why, why?"
Her hope had dwindled gradually over the years. Bit by drizzling bit, she'd watched it wash away down the drain. But she'd kept on going. Picking herself up, dusting herself down after each and every knock.
"Things have to get better," she reassured herself. But they didn't and now she was lost. How long could she keep telling herself the same line? It was lie. It was hopeless. Her life was hopeless.
With her head in her hands, she stared out of the window, finally admitting defeat.
"It's so unfair!" She opened the cupboards and saw a couple of tins that had been there for years. Stuffed away at the back - for a reason. No food to eat. The cupboard was mocking her. Rage rose in her heart.
"Fuck it!" she screamed. "I hate fucking life. I fucking hate it!" She grabbed the tin in front of her. Mushy peas!
"I don't even like mushy peas!" She threw the tin across the room. And then another, and another. Rage, disappointment, hurt, anger - all released in the roar.
Tears of defeat poured down her face, tears of emptiness caressed her cheeks, tears of loneliness dripped down onto her clothes. And then, finally, bitter sweet tears of acceptance.
On the table in the living room, lay a book she'd been reading recently. She didn't like it much. It said that she was responsible for her life and that every good and every bad thing that had happened was in some way down to her. She did not want to hear that. She did not want to believe that. Yet, she knew it was true. In a lot of ways it was true. In a lot of ways she was responsible, and that was what hurt the most. That she had inflicted this pain on herself. She didn't like that truth at all.
No-one was home. Her children had grown up and left the house and she'd kicked out her boyfriend last week. He'd come home and told her that he'd made another woman pregnant. She didn't have the heart to forgive him again. She'd asked him to leave - and he did. So there was no-one to cook for and no-one to complain about the state of the kitchen. The glass could stay there. She'd clean it up when she felt like it and that wasn't now. Now, she needed time to think.
She felt flat and she felt empty. Gone was the rage now. Like a storm that had blown away, she had released her fury until there was nothing left inside. And she sat peacefully drained on the softness of the couch. Staring out into the room.
Her job. Her supervisor was always bitching about her, but it was her fault because she had never stood up to her. She had allowed it to continue.
Her partner. He'd flirted for years and she'd never stood up to him - too scared of losing him. Funny that! She smiled wryly to herself, now I'm glad he's gone.
Her finances. She'd never had much money. Yet whenever an opportunity had arisen, she rejected it because she didn't believe she was worthy. And she'd never applied for a job with a decent wage - she didn't think she'd get it so she didn't apply.
Her children. She hadn't disciplined them enough. That's why they run rings around her and swore at her. She'd never taught them to respect her. So it was her fault. They'd only learnt what she'd taught them.
"Oh my God!" Realisation dawned her. "They only learnt what I taught them! They only learnt what I taught them!" She had been the one that had taught them not to respect her. She was the one that had allowed it and thought that it was okay. They didn't respect her because she didn't respect herself.
Her eyes opened. She held the coffee cup to her lips, snug in both hands. "Oh my glorious God! It was me all along. It's all my fault - everything"
The room was silent. The clock ticked loyally in the background. And she stared and stared. Moments of her life flashing in her mind, being scanned by her analysis.
She must have sat there for at least another hour, examining her life. Examing it in minute detail. Every error she had made. She placed the cup on the table and walked back towards the kitchen. She put the kettle on to boil. This was going to be a long night.
"Hello."
"It's me babe. I want to come home. I miss you. I never realised how much I loved you until now."
She hung up the phone. If he loved her that much, he could wait. This time was for her. This time was for her. She nodded her head in approval. The kitchen was in a mess. She needed to tidy it up just like the wreckage that had become her life.
She felt stronger now. Purged. She knew that she had to make some major changes before her life could be as she wanted it. She had to start loving and respecting herself. And she had to start believing that she deserved the good things from life.
It would be an effort, she knew, but this was what she had to do - she knew it. How could anyone else respect her or love her if she didn't love herself first? She thought about calling him back and then decided not to - he would call back, if he loved her and if he didn't, then she didn't need him in her life anymore. From now on, she was getting picky!
She smiled. A smile she hadn't smiled for years. She had started to like herself again. More than that, she had started to respect herself again.
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