Pretty Poison

Pretty poison lurks, hidden on my phone, light gleaming through its toxic, yet enticing depths.

It makes me sick to my stomach to think about all the pain I went through because of E…and yet…

There is a subtle allure in the intentness of his purpose.

I’ve forgotten how it feels to be wanted so desperately.

And still, I sit here, crying, knowing that if I were to say even one word, I would unravel all the work I’ve done to repair the damage he caused me.

I can’t go back.

And yet, like an addict…I yearn for that feeling again.

I wish he would just go, leave me alone & not return, so I could stop remembering and missing how he made me feel at one time. Because he also tore me apart, and left me to deal with the afternoon, alone.

Always alone.

I just want this part of the nightmare to end… I’m so tired of being alone.

I discovered tonight that “spam” texts don’t actually disappear…they just get tucked away…but they’re still on the damn phone, daring me to read them.

Daring me to drink that pretty poison, and be damned…

Advertisements

The Edge of Panic

I’ve been sitting on the edge of a panic attack since this afternoon…

Since I noticed in my missed calls that I have auto-rejected calls from E in my phone again.

I thought I was done hearing from him, that he’d finally gotten the idea that I wasn’t going to talk to him anymore.

What do I have to do?

My phone automatically rejects his calls, shunting them directly to voicemail, which he never leaves, thank the Goddess.

I’ve set my phone to send any texts to spam, which means I never see them, they disappear from my phone, never to be read.

I don’t receive his emails, and he hasn’t sent any, that I know of, because they too, go directly to my spam box.

I thought this was all over with.

And yet, today, I had a missed call while I was driving, so I checked my call log when I got to work, thinking it might be one of my kids, or my parents…

(It was no one I knew, so it wasn’t important)

But, I found 4 auto-rejected calls between Saturday and today.

And tonight, I had another.

After missing a call from my Nephew, I checked my call log again, and there it was.

The same number. The only number on my auto-reject list.

He swore to me once that he would come here, no matter what, to see me, even if I turned him away, he was still going to come, just to meet me & to try to change my mind.

Yes, he knows where I live, I was in a relationship with him for 4&1/2 years, even if it was only long-distance, it was still a relationship.

And the pain, and the panic, these thoughts incite…are very real.

He broke me so badly. I’m still struggling with severe trust issues because of him.

And the edge of panic slices through me like a knife…and I bleed all over again.

The Little Match Girl

I had a stocking hung up on the wall, waiting for his arrival, hanging empty in anticipation of being added to – waiting to be filled with joy and the presents of the season.

My daughter took it down yesterday, carefully rearranging the hooks on the wall to look as though there was nothing missing, no void, waiting for its fulfillment.

She didn’t want me to have to do it.

Again.

Goddess, I love that girl.

I had thought about removing that stocking…I was trying to avoid it, actually, and hadn’t quite decided what I was going to do. Leave it, and have to explain to everyone why it hangs empty? Or take it down, and get the “looks”? 

Either way, I know my parents will be full of questions, ones I don’t really want to answer just yet, and some I don’t know the answer to just yet.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet, and I really don’t feel like talking about it, out loud, not right now. It hurts, and like an animal with a wound, I’d like to go off into a hidden place, by myself, and bleed quietly, thank you.

What makes it more bitter to swallow is the holidays… lonely enough as is, now?

I’m nothing more than the Little Match Girl…sitting out in the cold, lighting matches (what a metaphor for a dating site, Hunh?),  trying to stay warm for a little while, & seeing hope in the flames. Hope that never blooms into reality and warmth. Each and every time I strike a match, I end up getting burned, but can’t stop from lighting the next as the previous one gutters out. Soon, my heart will give out, tired from the exertion, it will lay down to rest, and freeze, not to get back up again.

Goodnight, dear friends, for a little while.

Until the holiday is over, at least, I don’t think I can be here.

Ashes Ashes…

My anxiety is high again. I’m stressed out and almost constantly on the verge of either snapping or bursting into tears.

(Singing in my head “I’m a little teapot…”)

I was talking to a coworker today about my teapot theory – how everyone needs a way to vent…or, like a teapot with a cork stuck in the end, when it gets hot enough – shrapnel everywhere… 

First – I’ve been working on quitting smoking. No, not cold turkey, because I know myself, & I know that would never work for me. I’d cheat, get pissed at myself, & say “fuckit” and go back to half a pack a day like always.

So, I’ve been wearing myself down slowly. I’ve gotten down to about 4 cigarettes a day, & I’m smoking 3 of those after work, at night. During my most stressful part of the day? – I’m clean. I have 1 cigarette in the morning, on my way to work – then I don’t smoke again till after I get home. 

It’s really not easy. There are side effects I wasn’t expecting. But then, what should I have expected after smoking for almost 30 years? 

Headaches. I’ve had an almost constant, splintering headache for the last 2 weeks and some change, since I started this process.

Exhaustion. I’m so tired. ALL. THE. TIME.

Diminished focus. Ugh. Zombie. Crap on a cracker, it’s like a constant thick fog inside my head. That’s part of the reason I haven’t been writing here. Zero brain.

Stomach cramps. Just no.

Hunger. Wanting to constantly graze through the day… And having to refocus my discipline, because I’m still trying to eat healthy & still have 20 lbs. to go to get to my goal weight. I’m trying to drink more water to make myself feel full…but my stomach knows I’m mocking it.

People who’ve never smoked, or who only smoke on rare occasions, don’t understand just how difficult the quitting process can be. It’s not just “putting down the pack & walking away”. 

But enough about that.

Second… I’m still waiting to get confirmation and “proof” that πŸ’™ is coming for his visit. Things have taken a serious turn, he’s started becoming much more serious about us…using the “L” word, which I’m not ready to use just yet. 

I went through so much with E, when he broke promise after promise, telling me time and again that he was coming, then backing out at the last minute with an excuse. I can’t take that again. 

I know I really shouldn’t compare the 2 men… And I’m not, not really. I’m just seeing similarities in the situation. This makes me so anxious and stressed out. My anxiety keeps whispering to me that I’m going to be Carrie at the Prom, and he’s not going to show, it’s all going to be some horrible hoax, or a joke, & I’ll be the butt of it. 

And speaking of butts…I need a cigarette…

Ashes ashes…

There’s a Road That Takes Me Home

I have P!nk’s song stuck in my head…

There’s a road that takes me home

Take me fast

Or take me slow

Throw my head out the window

Feel the wind

Make me whole…

I don’t mind…I love her new CD, Beautiful Trauma, & have all the songs downloaded to my mp3 player so I can listen to them while I’m at work, mixed in with all my other music. 

It’s just that hook…on a loop, though…

Oh well

At least it’s not Christmas music.

Speaking of Christmas…

SadHeart πŸ’™ is coming to visit for Christmas. 

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, a lot of emailing with him, & some introverted soul-searching.

And, I’ve cone to the conclusion that – I’m 47. I’m not going to find love by conventional methods, because I’m not a conventional woman (stop laughing, yahoos), so I’m going to explore the opportunity that has been presented to me.

πŸ’™ has been generous enough to offer to fly here from the state & city he lives in, just to meet me. This was one of the major problems I had with E – getting him to actually show up after all the promises he made, & πŸ’™ has not only come up with this on his own, it was not a promise, simply a “I want to meet you, so I’m going to do this”.

I need to meet that kind of courage and strength of character with my own courage, & not shy away from the possibility that he might be just what I’m looking for. I’ll never know if I don’t try, right?

So, company’s coming for the holidays.

Time to get out the decorations, I guess.