Crushed

I feel lost. I know this isn’t a new feeling... but it is where I am.

I feel stuck in an in-between. I’m trying to let go of something… and trying to grab a hold of something. I’m trying to learn new things... while still impressing upon the old. I’m trying to be happy... and embrace new power and temptations without submerging in the moment.

All of me is struggling. Little me, big me, old me, and new me. I want to be better. And yet, I look up sometimes and I see all the weaknesses I always had. I see all the struggles I thought I’d overcome. I want to be strong enough to walk away. Not just walk away because I need to, but to walk away because I fucking can... and that knowledge is my power.

It’s like I just flung my body into the deepest water I could find. And maybe... I'm drowning.

At twenty-seven... I’m beginning to wonder if I will ever be the person I want to be. Happy, successful, in love, with a family, and confidence… real confidence... for once in my life. Not this bullshit I spew to make them believe or potentially even fool myself into believing. But for once, whole, sincere knowledge of my value.

My insides feel crushed today, paralyzed by emotions I just don’t want. I never know when it is safe to trust myself... let alone all the others.

I open so completely... I open myself to the pain. When will I learn. Learn to stop letting myself be hurt and choked by my own saliva. Crushed by my own desire for more.

Like everytime I cross the road and I envision myself being struck by a car. I know what it really is, I know it is my own dangerous thoughts... and I allow myself to cross. It's just my imagination. It's all in my poisonous fucking head. All this fear. I don't want to be afraid anymore. I'm sick of holding back. I'm sick of being the person with logic.

What if I let go? Fuck... what kind of bullshit am I trying to spin? I could never fucking let go!! Wrapped up tighter than a balloon string... I could never be free like that. Instead... I just hurt. Instead... I am crushed.

The Choice

Since my last post, there has been a storm and it seems my life has turned completely up-side-down. So much so, that I'm not even sure I know what to write. But I feel I must write something because I am feeling so many things and I need to update the status of all things confucius.

Ex did a complete 180. Everything I had succumbed to knowing about him changed, again. The man I decided to let go of 15 months ago suddenly popped back into my life. He decided he didn't want to be without me and he did not want to share me. He decided his standards and inescapable desire for perfection were a bit off whack and all he really wanted was me.

I loved this man for nearly two years... how could I walk away from this opportunity? Maybe I am fucking nuts. Because Doc was/is amazing. He is the type of man any woman would (should) feel very blessed to have. So here I am faced with walking away from a beautiful idea of love, trust, and commitment to figure out if what I had is still what I want.

My heart twisted and pounded to the point where I thought my throat might burst. But I had to do what I know how to do - communicate and process. I went to my best friend, my mother. I told her all of what I saw in them. The thousands of fears facing me to go back to ex. The hundreds of hypothetical dreams in front of me with Doc.

I talked to ex for hours on the phone. I listened to his voice... the voice I fell in love with. I heard it crack, drop, and whisper so many things I had been waiting and wanting to hear. And then I knew... I wasn't over him. The thought of having this man back? This funny, beautiful, sweet, sexy, smart, and loving man back. I wanted him. Maybe I am one thousand times wrong but this is where my heart is, unless he breaks it again.

And then the jagged rock dropped to the pit of my stomach... I had to tell Doc. I had to tell this perfectly innocent, pure, and love-inspiring man that I was leaving him. Leaving him for what? ... a glance at my past? ... a hopeful dream? ... a theoretical man that let me down because it was easier?

Fuck - more than anything in the world I did not want to tell him. I wanted to just hold his hand, kiss him, and tell him how amazing he is. ... But none of that would change what I feel for ex. None of that would suddenly make my heart stop longing or my tummy stop aching for ex.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

You meet the sweetest child at the orphanage and somehow after filling out all the paperwork, praying, holding each other close, painting walls, and dreaming... the reality breaks and someone tells you it's just not going to happen. Can you imagine the hurt that child must feel? My heart aches for him and the pain I've caused.

I'm not sure whether I border on stupidity or insanity. But I love ex, we will now call him Blue Eyes. And as much as I may love Doc, it just wasn't the same, yet.

For that I feel condemned. I feel hated and washed out. I feel like I played an evil trick and even though I saw the humor at one point, now all I see is the pain and wreckage. I fucking hate myself for this.

Maybe I wasn't ready to move on... and now Doc is paying for my mistake. I think I just break him further the more I try to help ease the blow. It feels like a failure. I am trying hard to do right by him, trying to do right by everyone around me, but in the end - I have to do what is right by me! I have to live with my choice. I feel I did what was right for me, at this time. Maybe if it were a few months down the road and I had seen all of what Doc was offering would remain a reality... I would have stayed. But it isn't months down the road and people change in the blink of an eye.

I love Blue Eyes and unless I break myself of him (which I haven't)... I cannot be true to another. I feel those around me mocking my decision. But with everyday I fall closer to him. He is the man I fell in love with over a year ago. He holds me, touches me, inspires me, and talks to me the way we always wanted him to. He wanted this too, he just didn't know how. Together we will figure that out. I just wish I didn't feel so hated for making a choice ... I'm sorry.

I'm just trying to be the best me I can be... I hope you understand.

Justifiable Pain?

Although I had broken things off with ex a few months ago and he had moved out... we still clearly had a connection. Maybe you could classify it as a booty call. But we did other things together and liked it and in general enjoyed each others presence when it was offered.

Today I had to break the news about Doc's existence. I didn't want to chance any overlap in these relationships. Friends or more... they both deserve honesty and fairness.

It ripped through me like a jagged and dull dagger. I had placed so much of myself with him. He has helped me to want to learn and grow more as a person. Thus, the past year has been full of amazing growth. I am proud to be the person I am today. I may not like me everyday, but I'm tolerable most days.

I texted "... I met someone...".

He said he knew, from the way I had been acting and how I was suddenly quite preoccupied. He said how hurt he felt. This man that has chosen a route of silence and occasional ridicule as his versions of communication. The whole thing flashed before my eyes... and I broke.

It is so hard letting go of a piece of yourself, a piece of your life. Moving forward with some degree of disregard. This is in no way easy. But it is necessary. It is vital to my relationship with Doc and to my relationship with myself.

I have to be a person I am willing to lay down with every night for the rest of my life. I have to be the person I wake up to. And knowing that I was honest, fair, and respectful to both of them... that makes being me just a little easier.

But in this moment it does not feel easy. In this moment I feel sad. I feel so let down by him. So let down by myself for not being strong enough - because he clearly loves me, just as I've loved him. I feel frustrated with love, relationships, and life in general.

Hurting, however, does not mean I'm doing something wrong. I think so often we believe life should be painless. But pain teaches us so many unimaginable things that we might never have considered before its presence. Pain reminds us life is both good and hard. Pain reminds us to be thankful for who and what we have. Pain reminds me of my growth and continued potential for more.

Ugh - if only the reminders some how made the pain feel worthy or justified...? Does such a thing exist?

Starving

I don’t know where I am. I feel like I am drowning. And worse yet, I know I am and I can’t do anything to stop it. I flail, scream, kick, and cry… and still I sink deeper. I fight to be stronger… and the new muscle weighs me down even more.

I feel so alone. Surrounded by actions, by people, and by words… but I am still alone. I try to grab his hand and continually fall flat. His hands are slippery, busy, and unattainable. Maybe he does not want to be attained and more often he does not want to offer a hand. I want his love so much, I dare to open my mouth and scream… even though it puts me at greater risk for swallowing more water, drowning.

I met a man that was strong, smart, honest, loyal, loving, devoted, giving, secure, and compassionate… just as compassionate as I am. Speaking of … “do unto others…” He no longer does. It is now a reflection all about ‘me’. “I have to be me”… “I have feelings too”... I want him to feel, I want him to be happy. But how can I make this happen when he will no longer let me in?

I feel like, for once, I opened my eyes and I saw the most beautiful sunset the world could ever create. The symmetry, the colors, the brightness, the waves crashing into it… it had me melting. But I opened my eyes just in time to see a blink of it and in that moment I lost my eye-sight. Now I see nothing. Now I am alone. All I have is the remnants of the sun’s original warmth and the passing essence of light. I’ve lost the very thing I would have waited an eternity to see.

Working so hard to be me. Working so hard to be strong. Working so hard to be a better human being. I am doing so well. Each day I find new insights-I learn and adapt from them. I am pleased to be in a place in my life where I finally feel like I could get better. I finally feel like I could be stronger than the sum of my misfortunes.

But am I losing him … I feel as though I have already lost.

I cry myself to sleep night after night. I discolor my pillow in mascara-stained tears. I take a sleeping pill and pray my head will go silent. All my fears, thoughts, judgments should be hushed by its strength. I want to breathe him. I want to feel all of that love that was once there. Instead I am held at some unreal boundary … unable to step forward …and in fear of that step because the next foot may have no floor. I cry for his hand. I cry to feel that wholeness we shared in the beginning.

When he stepped away… he said I was replaceable. He said he could go on without me. He proved to all of us, including himself… that he can go on without me. He walks away with ease each time. How is one to feel loved, honored, desired in light of this?

I don’t.

The touch takes so much effort. And when I thank him for it; he says… well you were good yesterday. I feel I am being punished. I feel I am being trained and controlled. I will let him control me so long as I can have him completely. But, if I am so replaceable, what is the point?

With each fight of distance he proves how easy it is for him to walk away. How can a person ever feel safe in a relationship like this? And even more, stay strong enough to make them feel safe in it? My heart is so broken. We were so in love… in love within days… in love so completely, both of us… not just me. Now, I feel like it is just me.

He made me feel like an amazing, smart, honest, lovable, beautiful, pure goodness. Now I just feel broken, tarnished, molded and generally like trash. He kissed me, he looked at me, he saw me, he held me. With nothing else around he would just look at me and see. And love me still. He saw me and wanted me, despite me flaws, despite my imperfections. He made me feel like I would always be good enough for him.

I made a mistake in trusting him. Trusting us. Believing in us. Fighting for us.

It has been an unmentionable number of months since I really felt him. Felt him love me completely, honestly, with every ounce of himself. He wants me to see value in his every effort. There is value, tremendous value… but for how long am I supposed to say thank you when what I really need to say is … please love me.

… Months since he called me beautiful, I am supposed to be patient and wait. Meanwhile all I can see is how disgusting I am. I am ashamed of myself. Terrified that it is so hard to say because he doesn’t really believe it. Otherwise… why would it take so long? Why would it be so hard? I am starting to wonder what others would think of me. They called me beautiful and sexy over and over. I felt it. I felt like I might be. But now… I am starving to hear it.

… Months since he looked me in the eyes and said he wanted to make love to me. I hold my breath praying he will want me. I wish he would take me, take my hand, kiss me, run his hands all over my skin and cherish me. I ask. Now he just touches me because I asked, not because he actually wanted to. He does not see me and wish to take my clothes off. His erection is a whim, not actually inspired or signifying desire. Why? Again, I am disgusted with myself. I shower over and over … scraping angrily at my skin… wishing it felt more touchable. I don’t want anyone else’s hands… but I am starving.

… Months since I have caught him looking at me lovingly. I feel worthless to look at. I never believed I would think of myself as worth looking at. But they thought I was. That was all that mattered. I feel stone-cold and neglected. He says he looks, sees me, and finds himself loving. Somehow I never see this? Before I saw it all the time. I felt his eyes, the warmth of his kiss, his hands. I felt his love. Now I feel so little. The little I get, I must beg for… and I am starving for more.

Everything has a reason. Every time there is a reason why I can’t have it. There is a reason why he is not willing to give it. There is a reason why his time is no longer available. When is it enough? When do I stop hoping he will come back to loving me, honestly, fully, whole-heartedly? Do I give up? Or Do I fight harder?

What I had is worth fighting for…

We went to lunch and talked. I felt heard and loved. Every day he made time to see me, to love me, to be with me. He surprised me and treasured me unexpectedly. Then he ran out of time. I would have to be happy with internet time. We talked for hours. We always had something to say, we would not run out of words. Then he doesn’t have internet time… I must suffer with a few text messages. Sweet nothings, reminding me he is thinking of me. Lastly, there is no time for that. I am barely a part of this world. I wanted to be a part of this world. Slowly he is pushing me out. And the only explanation is that I am asking too much, unreasonably from him. All these changes… I am supposed to be okay, I am supposed to be understanding, I am supposed to love what I can have and say thank you… even when I am starving. I must ignore my tummy’s grumblings… and thank him for trying so that he might be willing to give more again, someday.

And yet every time I try… it’s never enough. It’s never enough thank yous to get the more. This perfect relationship is no longer perfect. This incredible man has seemingly lost all interest. This loving man has vanished. I have to thank the man I have left for caring enough to stay behind. I’m crying. I’m alone.

I am starving. I do not want to be hungry any more. How can I fulfill this hunger? How can I stop feeling so empty? How can I continue to say thank you just to be rewarded, even if I’m still hungry. I don’t want a treat. I want him. I want his love.

Comfort Me?

My idea of the ideal relationship is one where both people can sustain a day without the other, but that day is made infinitely exceptional and more desirable by the presence of the other. This concept can be substantially altered with the introduction of depression.

... This is my altered world. It is not desired or preferred. It is not always manageable or understood. But, this is the world I have to live in. I cannot easily alter this universe of mine with drugs. You take one drug only to find a sizable alteration in another area of your life. The slight difference that is seen by the drug in relation to my happiness, is thus almost pointless. I take a second drug to counter-act the ill-effects of the first. It is like being washed away at sea. I am farther and farther from who I am... floating here and there facing all consequences that happen along the way... and majorly unable to control my own fluctuation.

What a shitty existence. To be bound by some psychological and chemical fucked up happenings within me. We tell ourselves... we choose our path, we make our lives what we want them to be, we create our own future. What the fuck am I honestly creating? I do not feel I have created anything. Nor do I want to stand idly by and scream victim. I fight the current, the waves, the rocks, the sharks, the jellyfish. I flail hysterically trying to find the bottom, trying to find the footing that will allow me the ability to walk out of the water. The beautiful idea that I could control my own path. It seems out of grasp.

I went to therapy last night. My mood was semi laissez-faire. So much to control around me and such little power to do it with, it is discouraging. We talked about my upcoming breakfast with my father. In most instances I can handle my father. I have to stand taller, sit-up straighter, outline and define my motivations, and more and more often... I have to suppress my emotions.

My father cannot hold me emotionally... and every time I allow myself to be vulnerable to him, he drops me. He tells me a million reasons why being who I am is not really the best choice. He asked me when he came up to the hospital the night I attempted suicide... "why did you call your mom and not me?" I'm lying in a hospital bed with tubes, wires, and monitors... but you're right dad... this moment should be about how I've let you down.

This therapy session she wants to make me very aware of his inability to hold me. She wants me to know walking into it... that he will let me down if I allow him to. She wants me to place a barrier. She wants me to ask questions so that he doesn't have time to ask me some. As if I'm preparing for battle, I think about all the holes I have in my belly, all of the scars. It hurts. I feel afraid to ask for help from anyone, least of all a male.


I left therapy a bit torn and feeling cynical, having faced the reality that my father will, most likely, never provide the emotional support a child needs. I will never have that need fulfilled.

My lover and I went out to dinner with my cousin--my best-friend. She is going off for a summer job. I am happy for her, happy that she will get some of the fulfillment she needs after having paid an arm and a leg for her degree. I miss her smile, her soft skin, her sweet kisses, and constant reminder of love. But I know she is very busy and I try to respect her time.

I sit down to the dinner table... and I know I am triggered. Since the moment I left therapy I have been defensive, apprehensive, and vulnerable. I tell them. I tell them I am triggered... that I don't know why, but that hopefully some peace will come soon. He doesn't even acknowledge my pain. Too busy humming, tapping, twisting, and looking at his phone.

I reached out for help. I felt as though I had done what I could do to get help. He has told me that it is no longer his responsibility to reassure me. I fear ever bringing up this need to him. Just as my father sees me as this overly-emotional basket case, I think this is what my lover sees. And every time I ask for help it gets turned down.

I wonder if I should stop putting myself out there. I am so confused. Two days ago he was a bundle of love and on his way back to treating me like I was his gold. ... Today... his love feels careless and empty. It hardly feels at all. How can I ask for help when the person I would ask first has stated he will not give it?

We get home from dinner and I lie down on the couch with him for a moment. It feels like more of the same non-existence. Every part of my body is crying out in insecurity... begging him to say anything, do anything to show me you love me. I understand he must choose his words; I cannot tell him what I need to hear, but it does not mean I don’t still need it. Can we not find a middle ground, where I allow him all right to say it in his own time and in his own words, but that he still be willing to give?

I get up from the couch, without a word, and go to the bathroom. I take a single sleeping pill and go to bed to lie down. I always say goodnight, mostly because I always want him to come to bed with me... but tonight, I don't. So can’t he see I need him? Or does he just not care? Is this just my issue?

I lie in bed and cry for a few moments. How am I supposed to learn to ask for help when I’m hurting? How am I supposed to learn when the person I want to wipe away my tears doesn’t want to? I’m so lost. I’m in a relationship and feel almost as lonely as I was without one. I feel his love but I have lost so much of it. I’m afraid to ask for help. I tried tonight... at least twice... why can’t that be enough for him to know I need him to comfort me?

It’s as though we are in a relationship but our emotions are our own responsibility. I see a loving relationship as the one where we cheer each other up when we are sad. I see a relationship where one does not always have to say to the other... put your arms around me... hold me... tell me it’s going to be okay. He already knows... and takes all the pleasure in the world from being the man in my life that gets to. He wants to wipe away my tears because he hates to see me sad. He wants to hold my hand because he doesn’t want anyone’s eyes on me without them knowing we are a pair.

Am I asking for too much? Wanting to be held, loved, and comforted? I see that as a real relationship... and if it isn’t a part of this one... then what is this? I just want him to comfort me... to want to comfort me. My heart hurts again...

Hate...

Oh my god... I hate myself so much!!! I need too much! I want to turn it off like a switch, a switch I am so sick of dragging around behind me, on top of me, covering me, smothering me.

The idea of time apart makes me sick. Makes my stomache churn, my body shiver, my heart pound, my throat soar, and my eyes well up. For him... nothing? For him... it is of no effect. For him... it is of no consequence. I thought I had found someone who wanted to be as wrapped up in me as I wanted to be wrapped up in him. But, I fear I was wrong... and now it is just an imbalance that I have to learn to live with. Learn to change myself... to not feel, need, or want.

Am I in too deep? I feel so deep and when it is good, I shine. When it is bad, I break and bleed. This thought has me wishing for a bridge, a really high bridge. I wonder if this love transferred over into an addiction and I missed it. I wonder if I feel something that isn't real. ... Artificially creating the world I need to feel safe, even if just for a moment. Wanting something I will never truly have. Wanting to be wanted and needed the way I want and need.

It comes in the beginning of a relationship. That false sense of perfection. For them it fades... but for me, it never goes away. My fucked up head won't let go. Won't let anything go!

I hate my mind, I hate my thoughts, I hate my tears, and I hate my feelings. Not one piece of me feels right. This is what I felt that night. There is no absolution. Just more pain.

I hate me! If only I didn't have to feel it all. I hate feeling.

What Now?

eginning last Friday it seemed my life could not find an up. I struggled to stay afloat and the surging waves and relentless tide demanded that I go under. It is suffocating and defeating breath after breath... stroke after stroke. My own life is toxic. The barrage of shitty moments is too much for me to bare. Why should I try to fight back?

Everything was already in shambles but the day, that day, was one of trigger after trigger...

It started the night before when I found out my boyfriend wouldn't be taking me to my medical exam. The exam where I am poked, prodded, and scraped for skin cells off of my cervix. Completely uncomfortable... and as a victim of rape and abuse this exam is more than painful, it is emotional and at some points intolerable. I fall asleep crying.

I woke up to the realization that I was so very alone. I tried to call my mom and ask her to come with me. But as soon as she picked up, she listed all the many things she had to do that day and all the stress she was under. I was scared but I decided not to ask. I didn't want to stress her additionally.

I went to the exam and it was painful, as always. But I didn't have his hand to hold. And my already shakey state of mind had my body tense and frightened. I was so clenched that she had to force me open. They kept telling me to breathe and telling me it would be okay. It didn't feel okay. I wanted to sob. I wanted to yell at them to take that fucking speculum out of me. I wanted it to be over, because I knew if I made them take it out, they'd just have to start the painful process all over again.

I went to work and sat down at my new desk. Piles of assignments from my old position were weighing on my mind... and thoughts of new and unknown assignments were creeping in to join the mass of stress bringing me down. I went to my first meeting with my new boss. He gave me a three page sheet of the tasks that would be encountered in my position. I told him my tendency to be late and he gave a lecture on the importance of being on time. I don't think anyone actually chooses to be late. To wake up in the morning and say, "hey, you know what? I think I'll be late today. Start my day off badly and have my boss pissed off at me." It's simple... I am not a morning person. Waking up is like trying to get scrambled eggs off of an ungreased cast iron pan. It's not happening fast, that's for sure! I walked out feeling inadequate and destined to fail.

The evening was decent. A lot of tiptoeing around trying not to let a fight start between him and I. Trying not to let myself be the crazy bitch I seem to be. I missed his touch. I missed his loving thoughts of me. I missed him holding my hand. Not one inch of me knew how to fix it and every effort just seemed to wedge us further apart. I stayed quiet.

We laid down in bed and he asked why I hadn't taken my clothes off. The signal that I wasn't alright and he was receiving. I said to him... "I'm not ready. I still don't feel safe and I don't know how to tell you." I tried to explain and it blew up. He was in pain from a stomache ache and my conversation was ill-timed. I didn't know how to make it right. I'm hurting and I don't know what to say to fix it. I'm afraid.

I attempted suicide because what else is there? It was not planned. It was an act of hopeless, bottomless depression.



I began to sob and went out to the living room to feel less vulnerable. He is sitting there like stone and I am crying my eyes out. I find my sobbing to be too loud for the living room. I grab the paring knife off the counter and walk out to my balcony. I sit on the ground and cry. I try to muffle my whimpers. I pressed the knife tight to my wrist. I wished I could pull. I thought about it enough... and pulled. A slight red line came across my wrist... but no blood. I wondered... do I not want it enough? I placed it over my wrist and pulled... and pulled... and pulled again. The blood refused to pour. The sobs turned to a silent numbness.

I hate myself... that is all there is to it. So unhappy with myself. So angry that I messed up this relationship. I realized I just wasn't strong enough to cut my wrist and this knife was far too dull. I thought about the Iron pills sitting on my dresser. The prescription I was given for Anemia and choose not to take. I know they are lethal, easily lethal... and I have so many. In my silent paralysis I walked into the bedroom. I flipped on the light and tried to begin the conversation from a better, less attacking angle. He was angry, more angry than I had ever seen him before! His responses were stinging full of sarcasm, doubt, and resentment. His face was empty. He didn't see me like he used to see me. He came back because it was easy. He hated me... and I hated me!

I pulled the box from my drawer and popped out four pills. I held them in my shaking hand as I began to sob again. I took one. I didn't know what was right. I was so angry with me. I ruined us... I ruin everything... it will not get better despite what they all say. They say that to keep you moving, but really we are all down. The economy, the country, the world. Everything is wrong and so am I.

I popped the three open pills. I burst out into tears. I began writing emails. First, to my mother... the one I am most worried about. ...I popped ten more pills. I don't want her to be mad at me; I know she will be. I popped five more pills. Then my dad... he resented my uncle for killing himself. I heard the things they said about him. How he was a coward and took the easy way out. I asked him to forgive me, that I couldn't handle the hard way any more. I popped six more pills. Then my step mother. She has always been a beacon for me, a light, a vision of possible happiness. I'm not as strong as her. I popped ten more. I told them all I loved them. I messaged my cousin, my best friend, my sister. I told her to understand and to take care of my mother and cats. I popped five more to be sure it would work.

Thirty-five, three hundred twenty-five milligram tablets. I was sure to die. I don't want to chance it. I laid down with the lights off and begged for it to come, begged for it to wash over and swallow me.

I had to pee. I peed. I had to pee again. I peed. I had to pee again. ... I peed. Each time I grew more apprehensive of my decision. I googled the effects of this type of poisoning. It was vile, painful, and awful. This is not what I wanted. I called Poison control and asked if I could puke it. She was adamant that I not do that, that I should go to an ER immediately. I didn't want to go. ...

... I reached out for help... I called my mom. I told her and she was so sad and scared. I knew she didn't want this, I've always known that. She said puke and she'd find an answer. So... I puked. Over and over. It was dry and chalky. So dry it was blocking my throat as I puked. I tried not to choke. I puked about six times. She came and got me... she took me to the ER.

I puked it all up. I'm alive. So... what now?

Can't Stop Analyzing...

I think about his fun weekend. ... or at least un-miserable weekend.

I think about how he tells me he had to let me walk out and not follow me so that I could see that my actions needed to stop. And yet everything he did this weekend were actions of a single man, or at least not one in this relationship.

I think I fucked up.

I think I learned my lesson and I wish he would have told me he couldn't take it anymore before we had to spend a weekend apart.

I think about how he thought we were so over, despite telling me it was just a chance to show me my wrong, that he cancelled our already made plans and changed passwords.

I think... how could that be just a test?

I think he wants out.

I think why did he read all my emails. ...My old emails from before him, when I was facing such a strong pull toward my very unhealthy sexual addiction.

I think... how can he tell me, "reading someone's past emails gives you a feel for who they really are."?

I think how badly I messed up.

I think how much I wish I could take back my walking out.

I think he wants it to be over and he is begging me for a reason.

I think... why has he made steadily less and less time to talk to me while we're at work?

I think... I thought I knew him. I thought I could trust him. I didn't think I would ever need to change my passwords. I didn't think he would trust me so little that he'd change his passwords to protect himself.

I think, I may have walked out the door... but I never turned my back on us. Because I spent the weekend missing, wanting, begging for us. And he spent it thinking about anything else under the sun.

I think my trust is broken.

I think I don't know how to tell him how hurt I am because every time I try he tells me why my thoughts are manipulating his actions. How he can't be free and has to constantly control himself for me.

I think how could wanting to hear my boyfriend to tell me I'm beautiful be such a horrible desire. How could it be bad to need him to tell me he wants me and loves me?

I think... how am I in a relationship with someone who doesn't want to make me feel better? When did it change?

I think how could it be bad for him to give me one tiny shred of a thought that this weekend was flawed for him.

I think he came back with a million reasons why I seem to be holding him back.

I think, again, he wants out.

I think how could he not take me to my doctors appointment. The appointment I cry and shake through. How could he cancel on that? He wanted to protect me before. I cried and shook through it alone.

I think why doesn't he want to go to lunch with me anymore? Of course there are things to do and of course he wants to be healthy... but before, the thought of not having that time with me made him sad and longing. It doesn't anymore.

I think he changed his mind.

I think when he told me he would always be the way he is right now (when we first met)... he might not really know himself at all.

I think I fucked up.

I think it's over. And definitely not because I want it to be... but I fucked up so bad!

... And I think he's done.

Focus and Determination...

You know those days in your life when somehow all the clutter clears away and the dream for your life almost seems within reach... maybe just barely at your finger tips right now. You're focused on exactly what you want and it seems nothing will shake your persistance. ... That's how I feel right now.

But that feeling only lasts so long. Somehow you get ripped from that momentum. You were on a perfect path and plan for what and who you wanted to be and something threw you down and told you 'you can't pass'. You want to pass... but you just can't get back up.

This week started at the end of my fabulous weekend. Problems seemed to ebb and flow as they always will but suddenly my ability to shake them became incredibly strong. Problems? What problems? ... Fuck the problems... because I decided I am going to be happy!!

Everyday this week I have excelled at finding my happiness. Yeah... there are moments when I feel totally worn down and depressed, but I'm able to burn off those feelings. I don't know how long this ability will last. I think a huge part of it has been going to the gym everyday. Its hard to find the energy to go after a long workday... but it's so good for me.

I feel so driven toward my goals. So compelled to be better, do better, and find better! So I run at least two miles... bike, lift weights, and swim too. I wish I could see the weight pouring off me like it did when I first started. I should be just so proud of the 40 I have lost thus far and I am... but I want more. So, fortunately, my fabulous new roommate and I have taken to the gym. We have decided to go Monday-Thursday and Saturday. I wake up every morning and my legs ache because I ran farther and faster than the day before... and I love the pain. Its like in the movie G.I. Jane where Master Chief says to Jordan, "Pain is your friend, your ally, it will tell you when you are seriously injured, it will keep you awake and angry, and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? It lets you know you're not dead yet!"

I'm in pain... and I'm happy. I'm dancing and living and loving my life. We only get to do it once right? Dear god I hope this fleeting moment of determination lasts a lifetime. How do you stay on course? How do you stay focused?

Let Go And Learn...

I am so filled with hate. I hate my ex. I hate that I said yes. I hate that all the times I tried to say we need to cancel the wedding he ignored me and told me I was just scared. I hate that when my father came over and told him he was making a mistake by not cancelling I didn't chime in with my father. I hate myself for letting it all happen.

I want to erase this all from my life. Erase spending $30,000 on a wedding that was a mistake. I can't wait until the day I wake up from this moment and stop regretting. I believe life is a series of events, some you like, some you do not. But you shouldn't regret. Even when you don't like something that happened... it teaches you something. I just want to be happy I learned.

But I'm hating my lesson and hating him even more. I chose to seperate because not wanting to sleep with my own husband seems like a really huge problem to me. I'm trying to do right and figure me out, and this mess I've created. What a HUGE mess!

All the bastard can do is tell me how I'm making his life hell by not staying up his ass now that we're seperated and how he needs me back. You don't need to be married to someone that didn't want to marry you. Why is this complicated? Right now... I just want to know when... when will I stop regretting I ever met him? When?