cherry waves

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Friday.

Finally.

This has felt like the longest week in history; thank Christ it's over.

Yesterday was a bitch and a half, and not just because it was Valentine's Day, which hardly mattered much in the scheme of things. I went and picked up my Zoloft, which Dr. Baig warned me would probably make me sick for a minute, but I don't really give a shit about that, I just want my brain to stop attacking itself. As of right now I've got faint nausea but I'm not sure if it's because of the pill or just regular cramps, but it's bearable. I did have a bad moment where I cut off most of my hair, but after I wash all of this shit out of it, it shouldn't be bad. Hair grows back. I won't go into the specifics of yesterday because I'm trying to leave yesterday behind.

I have plans for tonight and I have plans for tomorrow and I also have plans for Sunday, and some of the furniture I ordered off of Amazon is coming today, which is good because that means I can really start unpacking and putting things away. I have the gate now, which means Jack can no longer break out of the kitchen (and boy wasn't he pissed when he discovered that) but he's still doing well with holding it. It'll be good to have company this weekend, especially at night.

Doing my best to control my anger and not let it lead me; but writing it out is kind of like putting a bandaid on a bullet hole. What I really want to do is let it fly, but when I get angry like that I end up saying things that I don't mean and it doesn't improve the situation (which is already pretty dire but could always get worse) and I think enough things have been said. What I have done is given myself permission to almost hate, and like I said before, I really don't want to hate, it's like bubblegum in your hair, tar on your lungs, it's hard to scrape off and even harder to dispose of. Instead of hating I am severely disliking, and it's a good thing I'm somewhat isolated because right now would not be a good time to see the parties in question, not at all. The only reason I cannot hate completely is because I am sad as well, and that is the only reason. It is not hope. Hope died a few days ago; I held a funeral and I left it in the ground.

I've gone through about six books in 4 days, whenever I start thinking about everything, the apartment, the breakup, the situation I'm fucking pissed about, the stress about $$, I just pick up a book and I burn through it, and if I get restless I make myself read faster and harder. If I panic (which mostly happens when I am out of the apartment) I make myself watch a movie or go lie down or something. When I'm out in public and I panic (I nearly left my hair appointment yesterday and I almost told the girl cutting my hair to not even worry about straightening it) I try to get out of that place as soon as I can. The good thing is these little bouts of terror are decreasing, they're not as bad as they were when I first moved in, but being in public and out and about is a toss up for me right now, so I'm trying to avoid it as much as possible until this Zoloft shit straightens me out. It took me a minute to realize why I was spazzing out in public, but yesterday, when I was killing time before my hair appointment and wandering around Target, it occurred to me.

The thing about being out and about is that after ten years, I feel as if I am really walking alone, and I keep looking beside me and behind me to see if he's there, and this time I can't pretend that he's in the toy aisle or in electronics, because he's not. When people lose a limb, sometimes they can feel it itching, but when they reach for it, they grab air. And every time I grab air, I freak out a little. Even if we were more like strangers towards the end, even though I know we don’t work anymore, he is still the way I spent my days for a decade, and now that I am by myself, I no longer feel guilty about how I choose to express that, but I still don't know how to deal with it.

Don't get me wrong, though-every time I get sad, every time I panic or cry, every time I get scared, I imagine my heart 3-d printing a switch. It’s slow and laborious work and I keep having to start over, but it’s going to work one day, even if it’s not any time soon. Whether it's healthy or not, sometimes you need something to keep you moving, and I do not intend on backsliding.

Do not. Am not. Will not.