I'm Wide Awake in meh...

It could be the coffee from 7a carrying me into past midnight. Then again, it could be that I briefly went to sleep and I woke up and now here I am.

I’m bored with Facebook and IG videos. It’s the middle of December and its 70° when it should be freezing.

I’m haunted by him and it’s bad. So much bad juju in a year and every little thing is a trigger for me. Driving in certain neighborhoods, past certain markers puts me back in the situation. Hearing certain things or just going blank only to have a memory pop in my head that makes me want to cry in sadness and frustration.

He doesn’t call me anymore. I don’t write him. Oh. So, he’s not getting out of prison anytime soon. I checked his Casenet record. The judge must have reviewed his case and decided that he won’t do right. He has to serve his full sentence of 20 years. This fact should relieve me. It does, but I’m so accustomed to the other shoe dropping on me, that I’m still not fully relaxed.

I was going to link up with the EAP counselors, but their app doesn’t work anymore. Then again that is an excuse.

I’m here, tossing and turning. My shoulder has been in pain for a while. I think it might be rotator cuff related. Thinking of “Him” and knowing that I’m going to have to let him go for good at some point. I need to.

This is a night I would go on a drive. Well, years ago that would be what I’d do feeling like this. These days, late night drives remind me of being yelled at, driving in circles, driving down alley ways stuffing junk in my car, scratching it up inside and out. Sitting in the car while he loses every dime I have and those I don’t have on those dumb casino machines in gas stations and convenience stores. Never having gas in my car, never leaving enough in it. Out all night, making me late for work, making me tired at work.

He has traumatized me. How do you deal with someone for a year and all the memories are bad? Like the only good memory is a dream I had where we were having sex while floating in midair. Like we were travelling. It was odd. It wasn’t even real. I woke up, looked at him and said that was the best sex we’ve ever had because we’ve never had sex together. Exactly. All that bullshit and we didn’t even do it. I can’t use the excuse “good dick made me stupid.” I was just stupid.

I now know I can’t fix everyone. I can’t heal all the broken things that find their way to my light. I’ve tried to be what people have needed at my expense. I’m left to recharge myself the best way I know how because that rarely gets poured back into me. So I become reclusive, stand-offish, and a caricature of myself. This is why I want to go to therapy, why i need it. I got tons of shit to dig out of. He was just one layer of the iceberg.

I miss writing.

Take care.

Kindest regards,
Sister