i'm laying here, i've been staring at my computer screen for about ten minutes now, unable to click on anything.
absolutely stunned. with a hot face.
i have never felt so stupid in all my life.
okay, that's an overstatement.
but really? why did he have to pop up on my dating site as a match?
we talked about it before we met. he was against it, said he didn't like seeing people he grew up with and how they presented themselves on the site.
and i got that email a month ago, and never heard back after that. the one where he explained that i'm awesome and amazing, and that he just doesn't think it's fair to date anyone in light of how he's feeling.
really? that was a speedy recovery.
and here i am, the day after i had a meltdown driving a few blocks from his house on a bridesmaid's dress errand that was two minutes from him. it killed me to drive past. to not say hi. to not do anything. but i did. out of respect for his situation.
when it turns out that his situation isn't a situation at all.
well, i take back what i said. no more wishing he was an asshole. because i think this classifies him as one.
what the fuck? i fell for it all. i cried. i have cried over this more than my fucking DIVORCE. and i still can't believe it. i can't believe that he is on dating site. i still don't want to get out of bed. and i don't even have it in me to go on a fucking spree out of some form of vengeance.
i haven't been writing because this has been going on in the background of my head for so long. and i just couldn't give it more attention than it already had. i have been trying to distract myself for two months now, maybe longer.
and i just don't get it.
and my instantaneous response is to email him and be like, 'what the fucking FUCK, dude?'
and i just can't do it. and i don't know if it's because i don't want to give him the satisfaction, or if it's because i can't handle infinite silence.
just last night, and i have been so good about not doing this (it was only following that meltdown that i had a moment of weakness after driving through the suburbs), i was having my last cigarette, and wrote an email i'll never send.
all this heartfelt bullshit. so longing. telling him i think he's worth waiting for. just last night. i feel so fucking stupid.
telling him i know that we're having the same weekend, staring at the leaks in our houses, and that even if things were as they had been, we couldn't hole up for a few days and ride out the storm together, because we're stuck at our homes. that i knew he was watching his basement door, waiting for the floodwaters to come rushing back in.
* * *
as expected, the hurricane was no more than a rainy day. it was gone before it was even supposed to arrive. and i feel lucky. all that vigilance, and getting my roof fixed this week, paid off. no leaks. the house stands exactly as it did before the hurricane.
i unfriended him last night on facebook. kit had friended him when she met him, and told me that his basement flooded with sewage. and i should be glad about it, revenge and all.
but i'm not. instead i feel bad, knowing this is going to create a lot of problems for him. his house is now as full of shit as he is.
today was a waste. because i guess i wanted it to be. and tomorrow at work, things will be as normal as they always are. back to work. back to the stress and grind that woke me up in a tossing and turning panic yesterday morning.
i actually did a lot of work this weekend. tying up a few loose ends that let me fall asleep last night feeling accomplished and more caught up.
but none of that mattered when i woke up fuming and panicked this morning at six. thirty minutes later, i gave up and took an ativan to fall back asleep. woke up at 1030 to drag around the house.
fall has been in the air for about a week now. the days warm up a lot, but in the morning, it's sweaters and long sleeves.
i'm not ready for it. as desperate as i was for summer to end, to hopefully close some chapter of my life that is my newest regret, my most recent installment of wishing i could go back in time to unmeet someone, i am not ready for the cooler weather.
partly because i had hoped that when things got cooler and the windows stayed open, that i'd have a greg shaped boy in my bed to snuggle up to. that he'd have recovered enough to want to be close with me again in the fall.
i guess that this is what i needed to start to give up and really get over it. i had a few weeks interspersed with actively changing my train of thought when he'd pop up. i had a couple weeks where i didn't cry over him at all.
but the last week, in the quiet of normal life without houseguests and fun times, i let my brain slip back into him. and i didn't force myself out, i just didn't act on my thoughts and feelings.
and now, all that i am grateful for is that i didn't cave. when i wanted to talk to him or say something, i didn't.
and for what it's worth, i remembered today that mark on his neck when i saw him last. i'll never be unconvinced that it wasn't a hickey now. i'll never be convinced that his heartbreaking email about all of his problems and his stupid brain was real. or honest.
and in the way i'm so good at executing, i can only wonder now if my response to him was what spawned this. that me telling him i'm not going to wait for him was his permission slip.
i just didn't expect it to be so quick. i didn't expect to see him on that site. i didn't expect to be an 86% match. i didn't expect to see a picture from just last weekend. i guess i thought that, when he was ready, he'd come back to me. for no strings attached, or for dating, or for something more.
ani has that line, 'sleepless and embarrassed about the way that i feel'. it's been in my head for three days now, changing meaning as it applies to my feelings in three different ways.
but the point is the same.
after a couple entries over the last month, i come back from my hiatus still stuck in the same place. still wondering how long it will be until i feel ready for something different. until i stop associating everything he ruined for me with him. until i can honestly say that i'm not heartbroken anymore.
maybe this will inevitably speed it up. maybe my session at the shrink tomorrow will help. i don't think that, from here, it can make it any worse, that's for sure.
this awful thing happened a couple weeks ago. i was at work, and got a call from my shrink's office. saying that i owed $200 in copayments. i knew there was a mistake, because i pay every time i go. so i called my insurance company.
come to find out, the idiot fucking bookkeeper had changed my insurance and not told me. or kenna had. or the broker did it on her own. but since april, my copay for my shrink has been $75 a session, not $35 as it has been since i started. so i owe for my five visits, and nearly canceled my appointment for tomorrow because i can't justify $75 for an hour of therapy.
no one knows what is going on. and no one has it as a priority other than me, so i'm still clueless as to what is going to happen with my insurance, but kenna said that she'd cover the difference because i need to go.
my own boss, telling me i need therapy. funny shit.
you don't change insurance on someone with anxiety disorders without telling them that it's going to more than double the cost of their visits to try to manage the anxiety.
it's bullshit. i'm still pissed about it, and there's still no resolution. all i know is that i didn't cancel the appointment.
and tomorrow, before that appointment, at noon, the new roommate dan arrives to the house with his mother to move in and pay rent and sign the lease.
it's just crazy.
things are starting to turn around, in a way. my financial situation should be improving, as long as he isn't a shawn 2.0 and pays rent and gets along with us. getting the work done that i did this weekend is going to make a few less things i worry about. the health department can show up and i'll actually be ready for them. it's crazy.
but my head stays such a mess that i don't feel better.
last night, i saw this picture from last summer. nina, alice, and i. and i was smiling. a real smile, not one hiding something. i was so happy and free last summer, when i knew that i shouldn't get mixed up with boys. when i knew that i needed to be alone.
but deciding that i was wrong about that, after the deadline had passed, and that all i wanted was to be the girlfriend of some amazing guy who looked at me the way i looked at him? i just wish i could undo it.
until that feeling goes away, i'm just going to keep wasting time. since time is all that can make it better. it should have already been enough. i've more than surpassed the twice-as-long-as-the-relationship halflife. it doesn't make sense. it probably never will.
i hope he figures it out. i hope that he has some clue of how much he hurt me. of how vulnerable i made myself, because i trusted him, and how blatantly he abused that.
and i wish i could mean it when i write/think/say that i hope he's having those excited butterflies with someone else now. that he can get himself out of bed for someone else. that he turns off the tv for someone else. that he sets down the jameson for quality time with someone else.
but i don't. instead, i hope he has a horrible go at it. or better yet, that someone does to him what he did to me. because i just can't take thinking that he's happier without me.
i got my ass good and kicked on this one. so many times over. coming out of hiatus to write the same exact shit i was writing a month ago. fuck... two months ago even.
and i still wish, in light of all of these things in my head, that he'd just call and apologize and say that no one is as great as me. that no one compares.
because just looking through all those guys on that site makes me want him more. isn't that sick?
i made up my mind and found what i wanted. and he stole it away from me. what a dumbass. i'd never have done that to him. and if, over time, i had, i'd never have done it in such a cruel, dishonest, and deceitful fashion.
i had him pegged all wrong. i took what someone said about him being the best guy ever, and used that as a supporting framework to justify my feelings for him.
how funny the timing, that some trumped up fake fucking hurricane wound up being the perfect storm to lead me right into figuring out that the whole things was built out of something that can't withstand any force of nature.
the sky is so blue. the clouds are so fluffy and white. moving at this incredible clip across the sky. i'm bundled up, slippers and all, on my back deck, getting blown to hell by the leftover winds. winds worse today than anything last night in the brunt of the hurricane. or 'hurricane'. whatever.
the weather is what i love the best. seventies, sunny, windy. undeniably autumnal. and i am not even smiling.
i cannot wait to smile again. for real. no underlying sad.
i think that tomorrow is the day that i get a prescription for medication, if for no other reason than not knowing when i can afford to go back to see her again. whether i fill it or not, whether i take it or not.
maybe it will be the thing that helps me sleep at night, that helps me turn off the worry that wakes me up before the sun every day. maybe it will help me stop obsessing over this. maybe it is what will make me care less that some jackass crushed me harder than i can remember in recent history.
i hate feeling stupid. i hate feeling like a sucker.
and i hate feeling like the debbie downer, which is why i've tried so hard to lock myself away from anyone and everything and just go through it alone, not write about it, not talk about it. until the last two weeks, i wasn't talking about it at all, because i was trying so hard to get over it and not think about it at all.
i had an experience yesterday, before that whole thing happened where i figured him out.
it was early afternoon. the rain had started, but hadn't gotten that bad yet. i was coming out onto the deck for the second cigarette of the day. because i'm so hardcore about smoking in a hurricane, i came out and opened the door, and turned on the step to grab the chair and umbrella to sit, relatively dry, and smoke.
and when i turned, the tractionless flip flop i was wearing hit the smooth concrete of the mudroom steps, and slid right off the edge. it happened so fast.
i caught air. to see it happen would have probably made me laugh. but i landed squarely on my spine, against the edge of the step, and slid down until my feet hit the wall at the bottom. the whole thing happened in about two seconds, but i swear it was slow motion.
for that split second, knowing that i'd landed on my spine, i thought 'what if i can't get up?'
i was dazed, and took some time to lift my arms, to make sure i could move them, and then to inspect the damage. they were both scraped up and bloodied, my hand, my wrist, my elbow, my forearm. i was able to pick myself up, legs shaking from the adrenaline. i touched my back, and there was no blood, surprisingly, because it felt raw and was burning like my arms. i walked into the kitchen, rinsed off all the blood and dirt, shook my head, and went upstairs to bandage myself up.
three big bandaids, cottonballs, and a bunch of neosporin later, i went out for the fateful smoke, after throwing those flip flops away, and grabbing shoes with traction. i had changed my clothes, which were filthy from the fall, and sat down. thinking, i sustained injuries in the hurricane that hadn't even (technically) arrived yet.
i couldn't believe that i fell. and that the rest of the weekend was to be spent in bed, watching internet tv riding out the storm. and that everything hurt, just to LAY there. it still hurts. my back is pretty bad, muscles all sore.
to lay there and do nothing, thinking about everything. thinking about how fucking LUCKY i was to not have broken my back. that for a split second, i thought i would be paralyzed. unable to work, to walk, to get up, to do anything normally.
and how, the way that i feel, that i've been feeling for months, didn't even make that feel like a relief. like the cancerous friend who should serve to make me realize that my problems are non-existant. like the people who have so much less than i do, and no good health to be grateful for. i work in hospitals. i see it all the time. and still i pout and feel sorry for myself. what the fuck is wrong with me?
maybe the drugs will keep my brain from fixating on the shit that keeps me where i am. stagnant, with no desire to climb out of it. unmotivated to do anything or see anyone that could potentially make me feel better.
being so powerless to something that has effectively taken all control over my own well being and happiness from me. something that has made me feel more sad than i felt over the thirteen years of being powerless to coffee.
i need to get better. i'd say that i want to, but anyone who knows me knows how i love to wallow in my own self pity. that i have thrived on it for as long as i can remember. that it always made me a better writer.
maybe that's why i gave up writing. to try to prove to myself that nothing good has come out of this wallowing. that nothing positive can be salvaged from it. to try to force myself to climb out on my own, because it served and is serving absolutely no purpose in my life. so i can decide on my own, not because everyone who cares about me tells me to, to move on. and let go.
luckily i've had no drive for sex in the last month, conservatively. otherwise i'd move on from this to add to the pile of heartless fucks. of stupid boys who mean nothing to me. who do nothing for me but make me feel like i'm really good at making bad decisions.
i wish i could go back to that, mid-march. when i didn't care and didn't want any of the things that i decided i wanted a few months ago.
i'd say that mr. right can show up now. and be the real thing, and sweep me away. but i don't even think i'd know it if i saw it. i don't even believe that i'd find someone worthy anyway. i have lost faith in it. and faith in myself.
i toy with the idea of going into solitary boy confinement again. that year apparently was not long enough, because a few nights with one boy fucked me up this royally. and this feels worse than getting fed up and divorcing ever, so maybe i need two years of being completely alone, just to be on the safe side.
i don't ever want to feel like this again. the trick with this one is that i honestly thought i'd never be heartbroken again. that it couldn't end. that this was IT.
yet here i am, thinking, 'yep. still heartbroken.'
i'll try to learn from it. at least i am capable of that. i'll try to make better decisions. to use better judgment. to proceed more cautiously.
at the end of the day, i just want some guy, some friend, to hold me and kiss me and tell me everything is going to be okay. to have a little fun with someone i trust. to have someone share their time with me, because they want to. but at the same time, something that means little more to me than that. i just want to be held while i'm sleeping. i don't even want to fuck anymore. and i certainly don't want to get attached.
and the sooner that i realize that doesn't exist? the better off i'll be. that no one is going to hold me and say that to me. that i have to be content with myself, making my own good time, and sleeping peacefully alone, without someone hogging the sheets and waking me up every time they stir.
i got used to it so quickly last summer, it should be second nature. and i was so happy with it then. so satisfied.
i'll get there again. even if it's aided. i was strong enough before to do it on my own. most likely because i was fueled by anger. once this switches to anger, i'll be okay. it seems to be the most powerful motivator for me. i just need to embrace that. and ride this wave.
because now i know that it was all about the inequity. that at some point he did lose interest in me, and just was too much a coward to say so, because he knew that i wanted more from him. he thinks he let me down easy, that's what i'm telling myself. it was the ultimate 'it's not you, it's me', and i bought it. for a whole month.
as it turns out, yet again, i put someone on a pedestal who didn't deserve to be, and it bit me right in the ass. maybe i don't learn my lessons. but i can guarantee i'll be more careful next time.
back to life. back to tv. back to work. back to the shrink. back to being alone, and at some point, back to feeling like it's what is best for me...
more fodder for botox. glad i didn't get it before this summer, because the frown lines run deeper now.
i can't wait to smile again. and be happy again. for real, this time. like i was before i met him. like i was in the beginning. before i felt like someone was going to complete me. which sounds as awful to me now as it did to me before i met him.
it might be a while again. until i write something else. last night just felt like such a huge deal that i started a post. and today as it started to sink in, i had more to say about it.
aubree leaves for brazil in the morning. for three whole weeks. it's crazy. i can't wait, selfishly, until she gets back. because, when she gets back, the family is coming for a house fixing visit, and she potentially is moving back up for a few months.
i miss my sister. i have been doing better than i thought i would. this weekend might make anyone else wonder, but it's been better than laying in the dark crying, which is what i'd anticipated.
somehow august was better than july. negligible trace amounts better, but better. by sticking my head in the sand, i avoided some things. by watching tv i avoided some other things. other people's problems and all...
this week is september. it blows my fucking mind.
i have decided that september will be better. it has to be better. next weekend is going to be a rough start to it, three days off to lay around and think. and after that? work is going to be insanely busy, with nine and ten hour days for me. it's how i got through the beginning stages of the divorce. i welcome it.
the leaves will change soon. and the house will look better and work better.
here's to october... i'll keep my head down and keep moving forward until i reach it.