Dear Internet,
A more of Lisa, less her feelings, update:
I’m still taking my drugs but have added 1 5000 IUs vitamin D pill which is the highest dose over the counter. It’s long been thought insufficient vitamin D in the body relates to or compounds depression. TheExHusband, and TheBassist, both reported feeling better, especially in the winter months taking OTC vitamin D, so I’ve added that to my regime. TheExHusband’s mom, who has a degree in everything (and has the papers to prove it), reports vitamin A is needed to activate the vitamin D benefits, so a chewy multi-vitamin has also been added to my daily pill taking.
I see an APRN the second week of November in Louisville to help manage the crazy meds. Abilify has been in my regime since the beginning, and it’s been the cause of the slow weight gain I’ve been experiencing and prone to heightening anxiety so I want to swap it for something else. On the upside, I breathed a sigh of relief about the later as my anxiety HAS gone through the roof in the last year. Especially with my fear of driving. I’ve been dosing myself with Klonopin (all hail the makers of clonazepam) on a regular basis to help with anxiety, chaotic thoughts, and general impulsiveness. I haven’t used my credit cards and my driving fear has gotten a lot better as I’ve been roaring along the country roads with nary a thought. My rage has subsided significantly in the last year or so as evident that I’m not lashing out to people when I’m aflutter. I wrote four or five notes to one person, each one wildly different than the last but never sent them and probably never will. I’ve kept them away from any kind of sending mechanism so they are not accidentally sent via email to the intended recipient. They are a good reminder of control that a few years ago I did not have.
I’m still meditating and today marks day 108. I’ve worked through the anxiety pack, twice, and on to the self-esteem pack. I dig using headspace as after your finish the month long beginning packs, you can pick and choose what you want to work on next. I slipped in taking it seriously when I hit around day 80 so I didn’t feel like meditation was working, but I’ve doing it consciously and diligently the last few weeks. I feel calmer and slightly better.
During sex with TheBassist, I kept noting my flexibility was out of whack. He works out a few times a week, so of course his body is tight and gorgeous. (His health regime fed into my, “How is he with me? I’m all fat and flabby!” self-doubt. See meditation comment above to work on that particular aspect of my brain.) I tried bringing more exercise conscious when I was with him in CT but I failed to get anything going. That’s my own doing, not his. I was having hard time walking up and down hills (he lives in a very hilly area) as my back would get out of whack and start to spasm. Legs and ankle were doing fine but my back caused a lot of problems, even with our athletic active snuggling. The spasming started up again since I’ve been at the cabin where I’ve been taking long walks around the woods. I don’t want to have a cane so I’ve started doing yoga / stretching daily, and I’ve been at that a week. I yoga for roughly 30 minutes and then I meditate for 15 and I feel proud for having made that small accomplishment.
Speaking of TheBassist, I haven’t spoken to him since the break-up. A couple of things have come up that he needed to know about, so I’ve shot him emails but no response. His birthday also came and went during this period, so I wished him a happy birthday. I have no idea what the protocol is for such things these days as we supposedly left on good terms, but he hasn’t made a move to contact me so… I have no idea. But what is different this time around is I understand the radio silence on this end. He was exhausted from putting up with me and cutting me off at the quick is the best way to get rid of the stress. Maybe it is for the best, I am not terribly sure as I keep vacillating on my feelings. Grieving is natural and a part of what transpires when the love of your life leaves, but, so I give myself credit for not going into a massive manic/depressive mode. TheExHusband commented this morning I’ve been doing well in keeping my shit together.
What I do worry about, and this is quite often, is if i get my shit together – he won’t come back. (He could not come back, period, but go along with my train of thought here.) In one of his love notes across the universe not terribly long ago, he saw how great my life supposedly was without him and he did not want to interfere. I have no idea what he read or where, but he now knows about this journal and I’m not even sure he reads it. The point I’m ambling towards is on places like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram, or any social network, it’s all, in a way, a facade. We just curate the best parts of our lives and show the world how awesome we are without the pain and suffering. But it is here, in this place I curate, I let it all hang out. My readership is small but I feel as if I’m talking to my best friends. It’s how I work things out with in my head.
It’s where I feel safe.
Thursday night I posted to Facebook,
I just went outside and the moon is amazing tonight. If you’re up, you should go check it out.
On a more sombre note, while I was outside dancing under the moon (truly), I noticed a little bird was dead on the deck. The west facing wall of the cabin is all glass, so it must have flown into it and died instantly. Little bits of blood was spilled under his teeny tiny head.
People are falling in love right this very second; dying this very second; being born this very second. I think about this a lot. Life is too fucking short to be angry or sad, it could end justlikethat. So tell someone you love them, hug someone close, and be kind to each other. Have compassion. Humanity. You owe it to yourself and to the world around you.
I love you all. Good night.
I’m afraid he won’t come back if I get my shit together and I’m afraid he won’t come back period. In that space, it is best to let him go and keep on moving forward for me and not for him. Memories of our time together are stop lights in my brain. I wonder if I did love him hard, if he loved me hard enough. If only I had not been sick all those weeks ago and we would have left at the beginning of the month as we had hoped. Or if he hadn’t ended it those weeks ago, I would see him tomorrow. I wonder what he’s doing and how his day is going. I have a calendar of his gigs and I know how he’s feeling on those nights and after the shows themselves. I wonder if he thinks he made a mistake after all that time he’s been in love with me (10 years!) and decided the dream was better than the real thing. I once commented to him he loved the idea of me and not really me as a person as I’m flawed just like the rest of humanity. What he got all that years ago was the good and never the bad or the ugly or the fucked up. Then it slithers on over to if he did love me truly all those years, why did he leave me at my most worst?
People of the internet, I have a lot of feels.
It’s pretty clear reading this over (and over again for clarity, grammar, and spellcheck), letting him go was the best thing ever. How could you want to be with someone who won’t hold you at your worst? There were a lot of things about him that were not, to put it mildly, awesome. But love is not rational ™. The heart wants what it wants. And it’s pretty damned clear I’m not at the best of choosing a good partner for myself.
Even though the stress of our relationship was heartbreaking, we’ve seen each other through a lot of things that would have broken up most couples months ago.
And yes, I hope he does come back.
In other TheBassist news, I thought I was pregnant. My period is nearly two months late. So, I do what came next: I bought a pregnancy test.
The test was negative. But for that split second of a millisecond, I misread the test results since this particular brand uses a control window next to the window where your result is shown. TheExHusband calmed my panic by reading the instructions more throughly than I apparently had and noted how very wrong I was. TheBassist, obviously, would have been the father.
The feels from that little episode were all over the place. TheBassist and I discussed once we were settled down and life was stable that we could consider having a child together. I want(ed) a little girl, as dictated by the generations of first borns in my family are biologically female. It seemed like a pretty good dream to have. I’m not so old I couldn’t carry to full term with zero issues (though the term “geriatric pregnancy” makes me snarl). But now? When I’m so broken and he is half-broken and full of student loan debt? We weren’t even on speaking terms. “Hi. I’m pregnant. Bye.” That would not have gone over well. I did not want to be forced into a relationship with someone because of a child.
I was/am 75% positive I would have aborted. (TheExHusband commented on the clusterfuck of a fuck this would have been. Did I not tell you he was the best ex-husband girlfriend ever?) That was sobering. Probably the once chance I would have had with getting pregnant and I would have to give it up.
xoxo,
Lisa
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