Last night after posting that blog entry, I felt lost. I stared at Facebook, refreshing the page many times, staring at the same status updates. I decided to read to try and keep my emotions at bay. I managed to sleep intermittently as I read. Finally, sometime after midnight, I turned off the light and began to sob. I pleaded again for some kind of guidance, wisdom, anything. I finally cried myself to sleep.
I slept fitfully, waking often. At around 7 I awoke shaking, coughing, and crying with the words “give it two days, give it two weeks” ringing in my head. That seemed like a long time for things to be in such a state of flux. I told myself that I had to do laundry today. That was true. I was wearing my last pair of clean underwear for the second day in a row. I forced myself out of bed at 8:30. My morning cigarette steadied my emotions enough to prevent me from crying at the laundromat. I did some work there too, catching up on grades and writing progress reports. There were a number of Spanish speakers there. For once, I didn’t spend my time trying to understand their words, but hearing Diego’s language made me sad. A couple came in, a white woman and a Hispanic man. I respected their relationship a lot because they had succeeded when I had failed.
While I was there, my phone rang. It was Diego. He asked how I was. I avoided the question by saying that I was at the laundromat. He asked if I could talk. I said I could and asked him why he was calling. He again asked if I was okay. I told him I’d live. He said, “Okay, I’ll talk to you later, Sweetie,” and hung up. I tried to get a hold on my emotions, but a few tears slipped out anyway.
As I smoked my cigarette on my way home, I thought about how it neutralized my emotions. In fact, it was a way of harming myself. What if my depression just downgraded enough to the point where I feel compelled to smoke cigarettes to stop feeling so much instead of cutting myself? A more culturally appropriate way of dealing with emotions?
I got home just in time for the weight loss group weekly call. Only one person was on there. I told her the whole thing, She said it was better to know now than to suffer through it and waste more time. I suppose she was right. She suggested I start dating again, maybe look for someone online. That was something I was not ready to do. If things didn’t work out, I needed to take time for myself again. Yes, I’m worried about my biological clock and I still want to settle down and have kids, but I needed to do what was best for me first.
When I got off the phone, I saw that there were texts from Diego. He again asked how I was and what I was doing. I thought about the two days, two weeks thing. I would definitely stop being emotional about it by the end of two weeks, but could I last that long? And why did it specify days and weeks? Maybe if I waited that long, he would discover his love for me? Or at least realize that he cares more than he does? Or it would become apparent that he doesn’t care and I will be unemotional enough to be able to move on? I resolved to wait two hours between receiving his texts and texting him back. I got this crazy notion in my head that making him wait would help him sort out his feelings more. I went food shopping and texted him to tell him that’s what I was doing. I avoided the question of how I was. I asked about him and he said he was a little sad. I asked why and he said he didn’t want there to be bad feelings between us. I said I had no hard feelings. Then he asked if I was angry. I said I wasn’t, so that he had no reason to be sad. He finally admitted to feeling guilty. Here I was thinking that he might be missing me and he was only feeling guilty for hurting me. He told me he liked me a lot. And then I asked, “but not enough”? He said, ” No, I know”. I resolved not to respond again for a few more hours.
When I got home, what little motivation I had was waning quickly. I forced myself to put away my groceries, hang up my wet laundry to dry, and put away the rest of my clothes. Then I laid down on my bed and lost myself in my book. Then I finished my book and felt lost again. I realized that all I had eaten today was an apple and two cookies. I was still not hungry, but told myself logically that I needed to eat. I drove myself to the local fast food place and bought the healthiest salad on the menu. When I got home again, I looked at his texts. He told me again that he cared about me and a few other things that did not translate easily. From what I could guess, he wrote “I think about you and I have lack.” He also said that he has lost my affection and that he missed me. I told him I missed him too and that my bed smelled like his cologne. I started to cry again.
I pulled out another book, but couldn’t concentrate on it. I wondered why it was such a big deal to him that he didn’t love me yet. Did I think he did? Yes. Was I upset that I was mistaken? Yes. But we’ve only been dating for less than two months. Sure, the love I have for him is a new-relationship love, but it’s still a sort of love. And I don’t think it’s that big a deal that he doesn’t love me yet. Is it? Maybe my friend is right. Maybe it’s better to know now he’s not capable of love than later. My mind felt like a pendulum, oscillating between two decisions, with logic to support both. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.
Today I gave up giving in to my mood and do what I could to make myself feel better.
Today I’m grateful for being able to actually get myself to do things rather than being incapable of getting out of bed, I’m grateful that I have good friends who listened to all of my overanalyzations of Diego’s texts, and I’m grateful that my cats could sense my distress and were very comforting to me.
I did no kindnesses that I could think of.
I spent no time in nature.
I spent about $10 on food, $136 on food, and $10 on laundry
I slept for about 8 hours last night.
I did not meditate today.
I did not exercise today.
I did not follow my diet today.
I did not clean or straighten today.
I was showered but did not brush my teeth today.
I was depressed and in pain, but not overwhelmingly so. When this happened last year, I was practically useless because of my depression. I see it as another sign that my efforts have been effective. My temperament was good.