I feel as if I've been writing a lot about my ex lately.
I tried to look at recent blogs to see if I really have, but it looks like I've been writing more about anxiety than anything else.
Which makes sense because I've been pretty much bat-shit crazy for the last week.
This is due in part to the fact that I saw him for the first time in months. And the fact that I'm freaking out about school and moving. Also, I just started bleeding. Again.
It seems like this happens every month.
I know; it's weird.
So, I was only freaking out on about fifty different levels while simultaneously (and unwittingly) experiencing the wonderful symptoms of being a woman. Thanks, fucking Eve.
When I get really high anxiety, I tend to think about my ex more because he was always the one who could easily talk me down.
I mean, sure, he called me fat and useless and a cunt... But being able to calm me is kind of a gift. No offense, Oosrael. You do an amazing job. It's just one of the things he was exceedingly good at. And I will never understand why.
That means that having the bouts of tremendous anxiety I've been having are even harder than they should be because I don't know how to get all the thoughts and memories out of my mind.
I think it's actually really healthy for me to have had to deal with my mind this weekend mostly on my own. I feel like I'm in a much better place right now, mentally, than I have been in weeks. Maybe even months.
Don't get me wrong. I'm completely freaked out about the major life changes I'm about to undergo. And I still miss having a man-friends to hang out with. But I’m getting used to not having that attention, too.
In other news, I started a pretty good (but sort of predictable rom-com) book this weekend. And took a 3.5 hour nap. I haven’t done that in probably a decade. Yesterday I even got to go swimming, which was pretty much amazing. There were even a few shooting stars after dark.
It’s too easy sometimes to forget how amazing my life (and the people in it) is (are). Sometimes I forget to just be.
Maybe I’ll make a mid-year resolution to work on that.
P.S. I’m finished talking about him. I can’t imagine how sick you are of reading about him if I’m this sick of talking about him. I’m going to push him away to a distant memory where he belongs and be done with it.