Bitterness

He hasn't replied to either of my messages. I can tolerate being distanced, (indeed, I couldn't tolerate anything else) but being entirely dismissed hurts like hell. More of Andrea's odd wisdom here--I need to hear from him every so often to remember why I do NOT need him in my life. Otherwise he becomes an unattainable ideal.

And I thought that was over. I thought it was over. It so needs to be over. God. I haven't seen this man for almost ten years. I don't even know if these feelings are a chemical imbalance or a very, very important part of my life. How does one tell?

My husband remains unperturbed by this. But he isn't fully aware of how this memory tortures me. I figure, no point in upsetting him with yet another of my personal flaws. Just work on excising it.

So I take the pills. Peach-colored capsules, now, the little blue ones stopped working. By the way, the little blue ones are Zoloft--I understand that viagra also comes in little blue pills. That I don't need.

Tempest

I screamed at him and hurt his feelings and made him cry. I didn't hold him for a while after that. I am too battered. I feel so bewildered and angry. How did I end up agreeing to take him tomorrow after this? I am so pissed. And then the whole "waiting for" thing. I can't even think straight. Let's write.

Blank

My mind is oddly blank. I got almost enough sleep last night. It is a cold day. I'd like to crawl back into bed.

I think I will.

Just call me... woman of action!

Really

I need to get a handle on the compulsive micro purchases. Really. Stop.

I need to get out of the house more.

I need to let go of regret.

I need to heal.

I need to exercise.

I need to close my eyes and sleep.

Is this therapeutic, making my journal public? Or am I censoring myself? Or over-dramatizing my ennui or angst or whatever? Or distorting? Or... not writing enough? Or not being spontaneous enough?

It will be all right. Things are, on the whole, better than ever. But I really need to get out of the house.

Now

I feel a little more in control. Got a diagnosis of manic-depression today--mild case of it. Seems to fit pretty well. Does seem to be setting in worse as I get older. But the impulse buying has stopped. For now.

If only I knew why I stop and why I heal and why I don't and why I bite the skin around my thumbnails until it bleeds. I'd like to be at peace once and for all. But I suppose it keeps me going, this need to heal. Otherwise, why would I even need to move?

I could rest.

Ah, rest.

Doorway

The men are here installing doors. Is it too much to hope that the little guy will sleep through the racket? Yup. Poor little guy had a hard morning with mommy. Missed a half dose of the sky blue pills, and was frightfully cross with him. Then we went outside, and he hates to wear his hat and mittens. He cried. I fretted.

This afternoon... I don't know what. Weather is predicted. But too much to hope for.

I am a compulsive shopper and I like birds.

Snow

Snow fell last night. I feel like it was falling inside my head too. Very irritable. Chocolate yoghurt making me feel better. Stoneyfield farm. Yum.

I want peace of mind. More than anything. Where does it come from? From sleep, time to reflect, walks outside, yoga, my endless lists. Of those things, I have only my lists, deployed ruthlessly in the hope that they will function as nets and snare the bats fweeping about in my mind.

Oh, what the hell am I griping about? I have it so good. I don't live in a poor, war-torn country, for starters. So many people in the world have their own thorns turned outwards, to fend off others' outward-turned thorns. My thorns are turned inwards. Bullshit. These things are not reciprocal. My thorns are so little and fragile compared to hunger, war, tyranny, and disease.

It snowed and is beautiful, but I have no time for it.