Day Two

I called him. I couldn't help it. I fell asleep right after talking to a very good and patient friend late last night and so never turned my phone off. I woke up very early this morning (not at all like me) and very suddenly. At that moment sleep seemed like an escape. All I wanted was to be able to go back to sleep because then I wouldn't think about him. I wouldn't feel the pain. I reached for my phone out of instinct and saw that there were still no messages and just lost it. Without thinking it through I dialed him and got his voicemail. I knew he was at work (he works very early and has very long days). It surprised me, but I felt somewhat better. I was actually able to fall back asleep.

A couple of hours later he texted me. I literally sighed with relief. He didn't say much of anything, but just acknowledged that I had called. I asked him why he hadn't called me. He said because he was a wreck, that he was miserable and depressed and catatonic and had lost control of his emotions. I hate to admit this, but I was glad to know he was so distraught. Because it made him human. It made what we had real. It validated it. You don't feel that kind of pain over someone you didn't care about. I didn't feel so alone in my suffering, even if he wasn't reaching out to me. It was also refreshing to feel sympathy instead of anger for a moment. Anger is exhausting. I wrote him a very long text telling him I felt out of options, that I felt forced to cut off communication with him, even though it was killing me and was not what I wanted. He didn't respond. Several hours later I turned off my phone. It is still off and will stay that way tonight.

I ran errands this afternoon (it took me most of the day to get up enough energy even to do that) and felt hope again for an instant. I'm not sure if I'm delusional, or a masochist, or just exceptionally and uncharacteristically optimistic, but I felt an inkling of hope. It gave me a little bit of energy. Maybe it was talking to him, knowing he was so upset about this, and that that might lead him not to give up. Maybe it's for survival, because without it I would not be able to get out of bed. I don't know, but right now I can't control it. But maybe it's keeping me in limbo? I just can't let go. As much as I wish I could, I can't, because it's not what I want. At least it's not what I've wanted. He is about a nine hour drive from where I currently am. I thought about driving there. Just showing up at his door to see what happened. Part of me is too scared of more rejection and emotional turmoil, of engaging in the act of a desperate, crazy person. But having the thought, having the option, oddly provided comfort. It gave me a tiny bit of control. I don't have to do it, but it's comforting to know that if things become more dire, if I feel more desperate, I could do it. What's the worst that could happen? It won't kill me. And I'm not sure how it could be worse than what I've gone through, worse than what I feel right now.

Short term goals. Right now I am trying to be nice to myself. To eat enough, to try to sleep, to limit my stress. I have to get myself back up to baseline to be able to move forward, to make progress. It's almost like I've fallen below the level of limbo, like I have to work through limbo first to be able to move beyond it. God, this is moving so slowly. Time is speeding and creeping at the same time. I am inert, and yet this is my life. This is how I'm spending it, this day, these months. It's so depressing. I feel like I'm taking baby steps forward and then being shoved back even farther than where I started.