rears its ugly head

I'm fuckin' losing my mind. I feel like I'm in childbirth. Right now, I'm relatively okay -- tight stomach, anxious -- but three minutes ago I was sobbing uncontrollably, muttering "I don't know, I don't know," pacing from one end of the apartment to the other. It's like I'm having contractions; it's been going on all day. It makes me think of the upstairs neighbor, who is on a couple of antidepressants and/or ADD medications. It makes me think of when I was on Cymbalta. It makes me think I've fallen off a cliff. I don't know what's going on. I think that's why I'm muttering "I don't know."

Once, the upstairs neighbor came to me and asked if she should get rid of all of her furniture. It was a most bizarre question. But right now, that's the way I feel. I want S to hurry home so I can ask him what I should do. Should I go dancing tonight? Should I meditate? Should I get high? Should I smoke a cigarette? Should I have a shot of tequila?

Like I said, my stomach feels tight, so I don't feel like eating. I had a piece of toast with peanut butter and honey at breakfast because I felt like I should eat something; I had a glass of beet, carrot and apple juice around lunchtime for the same reason. And I just ate a couple of potato chips, but I cried through them. By that point, my mutters had turned to "Fucks!"

I feel so all alone.

What happened? R, that's what.

I saw him and a host of emotions overtook me. But not in the moment; while I was there visiting him, it was great, felt nice; I met his boss and friends, we hit it off. But when I left him I felt a depression similar to the one I felt five years ago, the last time we parted ways (also in Florida, by the way). It was such a wonderful thing to have been able to connect with him -- I've wanted this reunion for several years -- and yet it only stirred up old illness in me. Fuck!

It hit me on the plane ride home. It hit me as I was plotting to get closer, get more, get in there, knowing full well that he isn't interested in that, thinking I had a handle on it. It's hard to experience all those hopes and desires without being affected by them. But, okay -- Whew! -- I made it through the experience; we made it through he experience. We avoided having sex (which I thought was a good thing, thought it was going to keep these clingy feelings from coming up). It felt therapeutic is what it was. It felt like we were digging into some of the old hurts and dealing with them. I cried a lot, sobbed in R's arms. I felt a healing taking place.

But I feel so sick right now; I feel like I'm going crazy. I called R's best friend N yesterday (she understands what R and I are all about). She told me "Let it out!" I did. I didn't sleep well; I woke up at 6:20. I've been going since then. I couldn't get through a cup of coffee.

I almost called N again. I hate that S doesn't have a cell phone -- not that he would answer it while he's in class -- but I need an ear (or at least a voice mail).

Actually, I did call N again, but she's at her boyfriend's house (that's where I called) and they're not answering because he's about to move away, and so they've got their own drama. I actually almost called R. I almost text messaged him (ineedanotherhug) -- I even wrote it in my phone screen but never sent it. I almost called him. "I'm losing it!" (But he too has drama in his life and I don't have a right pushing myself in -- and I would probably come off as a total lunatic!)

A part of me feels like I need to cut it off, maybe tell him I can't have him in my life, maybe just shut him out. The way he's done me for the past five years. But that feels like an unsuccessful task. I would have to pretend he's dead. I would have to grieve that. I don't think I could handle that. (I had a hard time just writing that.)

I want to channel this emotion into my writing. This is the first (somewhat) coherent bit of writing I've done in a week. I started but didn't finish a dozen letters to R, on the plane, in the airports where I was stuck for a while, emails.

I did jot down an email I sent him saying I was going to back off because I was afraid I would overwhelm him, and he wrote back (eventually) and said not to worry about overwhelming him because he's already overwhelmed. It was in that same email letter to me that he said he's still in love with K, his recent ex, that K keeps saying he wants to get back together (and then keeps changing his mind), and that he (R) is still in love with K and wants to make it work.

It was exactly what I needed from him, a bit of clarity in an area where he's been mum of late. I wrote back to say I don't want to come between him and K, don't want them to break up. I said I want R to be happy, and I do, I really do. I poured it out. We both wrote about the old feelings -- the hurt, the chaos, etc. -- that we caused each other and ourselves five years ago. We both wrote about how we don't want to do that to ourselves or each other. It felt good.

That was the first thing I did this morning. I've been giving birth since.