Open mouth, insert foot

Between the therapy and medication, I really thought I was gaining control over my anxiety. Now, I feel like the only change is that I am cognizant of the issue. I said one little thing to Mr. Random without thinking, and it quickly spun out of control. He was concerned about what I said, I was flipping about his concern and the fact that I was a colossal moron* to begin with. We finished watching our movie in near silence, then started a second one. All the while, my anxiety and fear were building to a fever pitch. By the time the second movie ended, I was a mass of nerves and worry. I couldn't sit still, I couldn't stop moving my hands around, and I couldn't stop talking or thinking. He teased me in his usual manner, and it was too much for me. I took something I know was a joke literally and had to leave the room. He heard me fighting back tears and followed me. I made him feel awkward, which made me feel worse, and I was rendered unable to talk except to stammer "I'm sorry." Obviously, he didn't know what to say in the face of an anxiety-hormone-insecurity riddled mess yet with my sniffling the only sound to punctuate the silence, my anxiety continued to build. I tried to explain that the issue was in my head, not based on anything he had done, even delving into what Generalized Anxiety Disorder is and how this lovely freak-out was symptomatic of it. He was supportive and asked some good questions, but ultimately he needed time to process the afternoon. We hugged and kissed goodbye and he left, assuring himself as he left that I was okay.

I'm tired of feeling like an insecure mess. He's more awesome than I can really process, and somewhere, not to far below the surface, I feel like I don't deserve him. Like I'm not good enough for him. I have to get this out of my head. I should be worried about whether or not he's good for me, not what I have to do to keep him. He texted this morning to check on me. He obviously likes me. Why can I believe all the wonderful things about him and none of them about me?

*my opinion at the time, not an actual accusation

Sing! Sing a Song!

I like music. This is nothing revelatory - most people (with the exception of Bella in New Moon) have an affection for some type of melodic noise. What I don't know is if other people hear music differently depending upon their mood or what is happening in their lives.

S and I have broken up, and So Hard by the Dixie Chicks has struck a new chord with me. It's a song about infertility, but the lyrics just hit me - "Back when we started, we didn't know how hard it was...I try my best to be strong, but you know it's so hard. It's so hard when it doesn't come easy...So hard...Felt like a given, something a woman is born to do - a natural ambition to see a reflection of you and me...Could you be happy if life wasn't how we pictured it? Last night you told me you can't remember how to feel free. It's so hard..." God, it was so hard to end it - to know that love wasn't enough to make us work. As I type this, Love is All You Need is playing on my iTunes. Ironic. And wrong. Love isn't all you need.

Things have just all around sucked lately. Week one - S and I broke up. Week two - found out M's drinking had gotten out of control and he's attending AA, that mom and dad were having problems, and that mom's best friend sees a disparity in the way mom treats M and me, proving that is not all in my head. Week three - dad has moved out. What's coming in week four? Plague? I need distraction. Fun. Something new to focus on. If you can get past the very sad ASPCA commercial it is used in (and the unfortunate Nicholas Cage connection), Angel by Sarah McLachlan is a perfect song for me right now. Forgive me, but I need to insert the entire first verse so you can understand...
Spend all your time waiting
For that second chance
For a break that would make it okay
There's always one reason
To feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction
Oh beautiful release
Memory seeps from my veins
Let me be empty
And weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

I sat at home alone last night last night, patio doors open to draw in the cool autumn air. I'm sure the neighbors grew tired of hearing my faltering voice launch this song out into the night. I'm aching. I'm numb.

Dehydrated

I've come to the following conclusion...

It doesn't matter how deep still waters run if they can't quench your thirst.

Facebook

Ah, Facebook. I joined years ago when a college friend insisted I simply had to see a picture of one our professors shirtless. Who knew historians could be so buff? After that, I logged in only when I received an email saying I had a friend request. I didn't even have a profile picture until last summer and that was only because a friend posted pictures of the two of us at a concert and I thought "Why not?" Since the summer, I've used Facebook more and more, but today, I'm convinced it's the tool of the devil. It's not a way to find old high school friends (honestly, if I cared to keep in touch with them, I would have) or a fun place to go to kill time when you're bored at work. Nope, it's a modern road to heartbreak. Being able to see the interaction people around me are having, knowing I'm not a part of it, makes me feel like I'm a chubby, awkward, high school girl all over again.

I'm faced with status changes as he updates the world on what he is doing, though he so earnestly told me he needed time and was ignoring all of his friends. I see posts that make my chest hurt and send the blood rushing to my face, and I know I'm on the wrong side of that thin line between being understanding and being a doormat. He knows I can see these things; we've talked about Facebook before. Hell, I've commented on his page before. Is he mean? Selfish? Is he really dense enough to not think I see and process these things? He's begged me not to read in to things and over-think his actions. We haven't spoken in days (I can't get him to talk to me); what else am I supposed to do but assume?

Can you hold someone accountable for promises they never should have made?