A relationship story

Two people start dating.

Things are going along swimmingly.  

Months pass. 

Little disagreements come up and are quelled. They get along.

Chronic illnesses come up for one of them.  

The person who is ill ends things. The realization of what the other person wants and what the person who is ill is able to put into the relationship just don't line up.

The person who is not ill can't accept this and wants to be there for the person who is ill.

After silence for much longer than feels comfortable, a grand gesture is made and rebuked.  It was over the line.  

The relationship ends.

Both are left wondering why the other can't see that the actions of the other were done because they cared not because they wanted to cause pain.

can't expect the world to be your raggedy andy while running on empty you little old doll with a frown

Racing thoughts. It was something we talked about tonight and as is often the case, discussing it brought them on.

I wish I could understand how I transitioned from just not all that tired to panic mode. Thankfully I can see and hear this time. Sounds wacky but almost every time I have a panic attack the whole world seems to fade to gray and I just hear a loud beeping sound almost like feedback on a speaker.

Anyway, it's 3 am. It's raining heavily. That's actually a comfort but it isn't making things stop running through my head.  So to make this clear, since I started this post the following have been plaguing me:
* Someone will judge me for my poor grammar and for odd word choices.
* The "wrong person" will read this.
* Moving to this new apartment will be a mistake.
* He was already dating her and still trying to make plans with me as if he was single.
* People I consider friends actually don't like me.
* I will probably get fired or reprimanded because I am going to be so exhausted going into work today that I will be underproductive.
* I have to ask my boss if I can leave early on Friday so I can go to the closing on my house.
* I need to have my weight addressed medically because exercise and diet don't seem to be helping me make headway and I am getting scared.
* This sunburn is never going to stop peeling and I've probably put myself on the path to skin cancer.
* Maybe one of these days I will be fortunate enough to just not wake up.
* It is wrong to consider dying to be a way out of stress and anxiety.
* I feel like a fraud when it comes to my mental health because I don't struggle with the thought of suicide just with the thought of no longer being alive.
* I'm a failure in life. My graduate degree gets me nowhere and nobody thinks I am capable at all.
* I am not going to be hired for what I consider to be my ideal position, an interview I had several weeks ago and felt I aced, because all of the above flaws were somehow apparent.

So that's where my brain is at the moment. All over the place. My heart is still racing and I keep hoping it will either get to the emergency room point or just go away. This high stress without alarmist level of panic is eating me alive.

I mean, Christ: I wish I could believe that bozo in Coldplay when he tells me that stars are yellow.

Sadly, this line stuck out to me... Along with the whole chapter. I do wish I had my own John Cusack or as Klosterman more realistically puts it Lloyd Dobler though the name could be a bit off-putting.
I wonder how am I supposed to cope with the idea that at 30 I have less than I did 5 years ago and even less then than I did 10 years ago. Ten years ago... Damn I was blindly in love. And stubborn.
What if that type of love doesn't ever reappear for me?
Truthfully, it would make sense as I spent so much effort destroying what I did once have but I feel like I've done penance since then. And there has been some effort made to bridge the gap and mend the scars of the past.

Thought

http://whisper.sh/w/MTUwNjg3ODU=

I put the PRO in procrastination

I guess I ought to be grateful today and not think about all of the ways in which my favorite hobby, procrastination, has been my downfall.

It isn't that I am incapable. In fact, not that I have an inflated sense of self worth -- quite the opposite is true-- but I am aware that, generally speaking, I'm quick to pick up on things and rarely get presented with a non-physical task I don't do well at. Nonetheless, I have felt like a drain lately. I've taken a lot in and taken time to evaluate most of it and realized that all of my problems come down to that damn pasttime of mine going back to even my childhood, I know it is abundantly clear that my bizarre combination of procrastination and hard work.

And now here I am yet again facing my devilish friend. 

Glad that when I found the strength to walk out you stayed the hell out of my way.

Watch "the mountain goats-No Children w/lyrics" on YouTube

What if the last time you did something was truly the LAST time?

I think back to the last time I hung up the phone on you.  Tears streamed from my eyes.  You must have had the same from what I recall of the quiver in your voice.  And I sat there stunned for quite some time.  It didn't seem real.  It still doesn't.

Years later I find myself sitting in a support group discussing the very things you always told me were there. I couldn't see them then.  I do now.

I wonder if I had listened to you all those years ago and sought help for my panics (and my tears and my frustrations and my anger and so many other things) what would be different now. 

Would I be happier? 
Would I be more successful?
Would I still have a best friend who understood me better than I do?

Of everything, that last one seems to be the hardest loss of all to take.  For a the better part of the time since we last spoke I've been searching for that sort of connection.  The ability to trust someone implicitly and to know that no matter how hard something is to hear, if it's being said it needed to be said.

But here I am years later, without that. 

I am timid.
I am hopeful.
I am climing up.

A stone's throw away from happiness.
Pity I never learned to skip those stones.

Be glad you aren't easily replaced. 

I am.

More or less aiming for less.

It's been a while since I could hold my head up high. I suppose I ought to give credit to Staind for that but truth be told I don't feel they will care all that much.

I'm not going to admit that every bit of the last five years was a waste but certainly at least the past two and a half to three years were wasted pursuing a great nothing. And what do I have to show for this pursuit? Bigger clothes. Bigger debt. And biggest of all-- regrets.

I nevertheless am committing myself to a few goals: happiness, simplicity, and satiation.

Step one has been to improve my own mildewed insides. I am glad to share that, while the process is far from complete, I have made progress.

Step two which I will be embarking upon in the next week is to improve my battered outside. Yes, this means trips to the gym. It also means makeup, nail polish, and haircuts (oh my).

Step three will come later but that is about improving my living situation. This is where the photo of the lovely little cabin comes into play. Obviously it would be unlikely that this particular place will be available when I am ready to look for a tiny house but I intend to find something similar.

And so it goes. -Kurt Vonnegut Jr

But here I am, two days before Christmas... Wondering if I will ever manage to go into a shopping center, especially this time of year, without a panic attack. Oh yeah. I'm presentless.

If you read this: Megsie apologizes for the way things went at the end and hopes, most sincerely, for your endless happiness in the years to come.