The Break Up Journal: Fighting for scraps


September 15—Major breakdown yesterday. I wouldn’t even talk to P. I was boiling over with anger. I felt so abandoned and the more I thought about it the worse I felt. The longer I waited for his call that never came, the more I buried myself in misery. We were supposed to hang out yesterday but apparently he needed more “P-time” and didn’t call until dinner—he always calls around “food time.” Anyway, I texted him something hopeless and he just appeared at my door 20 minutes later with a box of Boo Berry. I just cried and cried and cried and then, we talked a bit and I told him how I feel and he said he wants to be the best boyfriend he can be. But, I told him his money situation and work situation seem to be getting in the way. It’s like they’re safe places that keep him from moving forward with me. I asked him to think about that and he said he would. God! Why does he say the most amazing things to me, but then, his actions fall way short?

Then, HM popped over right in the middle of all that and the heaviness of the conversation was temporarily dropped for a few fake, light-hearted jokes. It was almost a relief. Like, See? I am a worthy person. I have guys that like me and want to hang out with me. When he left P said, “Oh, I guess when you’re done with me he’s next in line.”

What!? No. Please don’t give up on me. Because if he’s next in line just shoot me. HM may be cute, but he’s a horrible person and I wouldn’t date him if he were the last man on earth. Anyway, P and I hugged and kissed goodbye, and said “I love you.” When he left, I popped a prozac. He’s apparently going to take them too. But I still felt miserable. I manipulated him. I pulled the “I’m not sure this relationship is working out” card, which triggered him and got him over. Yuck. I hate myself. I hate that that’s what it takes to get attention. 

I think when two people are insecure about relationships they need to make the relationship a priority. At least for a while, until they get good at it. He’s clearly not making “us” a priority. Can the Prozac do that too? Can Prozac teach moral lessons? Hell, I wish Prozac would wash my dishes for me.

Anyway, I slept like crap. All night I felt strange sensations, nausea, increased energy, excitement, weird thoughts, both positive and negative, a headache and restlessness. I finally fell back to sleep at six and slept in till nine. Sheesh.

The kids went to garage sales all day and brought home tons of junk—whistles, toys, broken electronics. They even bought me old cups and glasses. How adorable that they thought of me.

While they were out, I spent the entire day doing Google searches on life in Oregon. I looked into Medford, Eugene, Portland, Mt. Hood, Bend and Coos Bay. I’m not digging the houses too much. There’s no such thing as a log cabin in the mountains. And when I really think about renting for a year, I think I might find I have no purpose if I can’t decorate or make the place my own. But buying something I can fix up and make my own? That sounds dreamy…

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