It's been what, about ten months since I posted? I'm still on Cymbalta. Still in therapy, though I only go every other week. And that will end soon, because in October I'm moving to Florida. I'm moving from the mid-Atlantic, to fucking Florida. With my parents and my now 8-year-old child. I'm 42-years-old.
In the last almost year, I've had my heart broken repeatedly by the same person. Someone I love without reason and to my detriment. Someone who doesn't abuse me intentionally, and isn't inherently abusive in any way. He's just, broken, and selfish, and doesn't love me the way I need to be loved. Though I've never been loved the way I need to be loved so what the fuck do I know?
My therapist wants to spend our last few sessions before I move working on my relationship issues. I obviously want to work on my relationship issues. I want to not be in love with someone who can't love me back. I want to be able to take all I've learned from this last relationship, and find one with the good qualities and without the bad. Find someone who wants to spend their life with me, and my kid, and my dog. Someone who loves animals and food and movies and art and tattoos and, me. But I keep having this dream that somehow, this man I've loved for over a year will get his shit together and realize that I am the one that he wants and somehow decide to work to bring our lives together. And the logical part of my brain knows that is a fantasy and will never happen and my heart is breaking over and over, like an MC Escher print of heartache.
I want to cut my skin.
When I was younger, starting in elementary school and going through my marriage, I would self-harm when the internal pain got this bad. I haven't started again. But I've driven my nails into my palms hard enough to bruise. I've scratched the skin between my thumb and forefinger until it's raw. I've clenched my jaw hard enough to cause days' worth of ache. But I haven't cut. But holy shit I want to.
I have virtually no money left in my account or on my credit card. I just did back-to-school shopping for the kidlet. And my dog had an emergency vet visit last week because my parents' dog attacked her. So that's awesome. This has nothing to do with anything other than the anxiety dump that is my brain.
He told me that I am loved. I am loved by my family, but it isn't the same. He said he loved me. That he broke up with me last year because he was so in love with me and didn't know what to do about it. He said he didn't want to be the man that screwed over my child's mother. He said he still loves me. But he breaks my heart. Completely. And he has my heart. Completely. I have said I'm not in love with him anymore. That I still love him. That we will always be friends. But are we friends?
I don't know anything. All I am is feelings. Pain wrapped in hope and desire.
Maybe Florida will be a positive change. Maybe the pain will ease. Maybe.
I'm Kirsten. Some things you could label me with; tattooed, geek, mama, animal lover, weirdo, nerd, writer, movie and TV addict, lazy, ambitious, insomniac, feminist, LGBTQ+.