Always

 I know you may be tired of this. I know I am. This is going to be a bit of a ramble, perhaps get a beverage and settle in, if you are going to stick with me here.

So, I've been suffering a mental health crisis, that I've been semi open about. I realized not too long after the breakup that I wasn't handling things like me. I've suffered from depression since I was 16, PTSD since I was 18. I lost my health insurance in 2016 when I quit my job to care full time for my grandmother with dementia, to keep her in her home until she died. I didn't realize how little support I would have in that endeavour. So, I was unmedicated until October, except I had a heart attack in 2018. During this mental health crisis, I learned how nearly fatal it was. I honestly didn't know. So, I thought I was having another heart attack on October 4, I went to the ER. I wasn't having a heart attack. A very helpful ER doctor and a complete jackass cardiologist told me a few options for healthcare, and the ER doc helped me get established with an organization. So. Done. I've been tachycardic, my resting heart rate was around 110-115, since my heart attack, and I had constant pain from Dressler's Syndrome, which is a fancy way to say your heart hurts. Every day since my heart attack. Until October 4 this year. There were nights I was terrified to go to sleep, because I thought I wouldn't wake up. The thing is, I could get my medecine for free, but I do pay for it, because I can, and that little bit of money could help them help someone else. My prescriptions are inexpensive, it was seeing a doctor that I couldn't manage, with the associated costs of lab tests and such. All taken care of now. For now, anyway. Background, I don't want pity or sympathy. ever. The mental health crisis started when I knocked my 4 front bottom teeth out, in September. It was hugely damaging to my psyche. I'm not a pretty girl, never have been. But, damn. I actually broke them at the bone and had to have them removed. I fucking hate it. I wear a thing in my mouth. No one would know if I didn't tell them. Also, my PTSD was upgraded to CPTSD due to the experience with my Gramma, and two and a half years of caring for her, watching her slip away slowly then all at once. There's a lot of mental illness on my paternal side. Yada yada.

This crisis didn't happen because of the unexpected and shattering break up. 

But I kept trying to explain to a couple of people that something was wrong, like something snapped in my brain. I have always been the queen of walking away. If people don't want to be in my life, I don't want to force them. I want them all to be happy, over there (points in nay direction away.) I hope they win the lottery, so they can be happy. Over there. I wish no one ill, usually. I hope they live happy lives that don't intersect with mine.

Turns out, I wasn't handling things correctly. Something snapped in my brain. I've had scans and neurological stuff I don't want to talk about yet. PTSD is actually brain damage. My brain wasn't working right. I've had pretty intensive therapy and psychiatrist and neurologist stuff. I'm handling it all on my own. extreme independence is a trauma response. I know. Don't tell my fucking mother. I got this. Don't worry her.

During the (still occasional) suicidal bit, I made arrangements with 2 people I love to do something so that my Mom would think I was loved, and well liked, and memorable, if something happened to me. One of them is in constant physical pain, and the other is dealing with her own shattering, heart breaking problem right now, and I feel like a bbitch for even asking. I love them both so much, but I can;t do anything to help. I wish I could help. 

I wish I knew what people really thought of me, and remembered. What they would say if I was gone. If I made a difference. Oddly, two people from my past have contacted me recently, both people I'm shocked even know who I am. I'm a background human. People have told me nice things since I've been going through this. That's what friends are supposed to do. I just wish I thought it was true. But that seems like vanity bordering on hubris. I dunno.

Wow, this sin't going where I thought it was.

So, not handling things well, or with any semblance of me. 

But, here's the thing, the queen of walking away has found a human she can't walk away from. Honestly. I feel that strongly about the man that I lost. I've talked about it with professionals ad nauseum. They've watched my brain while asking questions. This bit is true. But he walked away from me. Still, miss is not a sufficient word. We were friends for such a long time before he kissed me. I wasn't dating, and he kissed me. My heart was damaged, and the best man I've ever known kissed me. we pursued each other. I fell in love. Then Mint Chocolate Chip happened. (It's an earlier blog post.) And most of the posts after, in varying degrees of pathetic and crazy.

I am just that in love with him. 

The last time I spoke to him, I was angry. He said we were just saying the same things over and over, but he was saying nothing. He had said before that he wanted to be friends. I want more. I want what we had, but better. I told him in a message after that that I was tired of feeling like I was begging for attention, and any contact is in his hands. I miss the day to day conversations. I miss him sending me things. I miss everything about him. Part of me wants to be his friend, just so I can be close to him. That just hurts differently. 

I have so many questions I want answers to. I want him to want to talk to me. I want to know if he misses me, or if he thinks he dodged a bullet. I want to know if he thinks about me. I've heard nothing at all since I left contact up to him. Maybe he's giving me time and space. Maybe he's given up. I wish every day for a random good morning. Maybe a Merry Christmas. He doesn't love me, like I love him. I know this. I tried all I could do to convince him to please give us a chance. I deluded myself into thinking he was considering it, because he said he was pondering. I spilled so many words, like blood and tears. I don't think any of them mattered at all. I wish I was the priority he said I was, but I think I've fucked up even that chance. My brain is much more "normal." Like other people's brains work. I'm not stuck in my feed back loop. I still have the worthless feeling, and I'm feeling even more rejected. I don't know. I just want him to really talk to me. Fuck, I really want to talk to him about where the new Costco is going to be. That's some shit right there.

Maybe I am more rejected. Deeds not words.

I'm tired of being sad. And this is sad. The depression is still there, but one of the most useful things that a therapist ever taught me is that sadness has a  definable cause, depression is when everything is overwhelming and you can't pinpoint a reason. I'm so fucking sad. I don't know what to do. I won't send him a link to this. I doubt he'll ever see it. I doubt he'll ever see me. I can't much blame him. But I won't beg. 

You know the song Shameless by Billy Joel? It's like that. Really. And I'm lost. And I want him to reach out. But I can't make him do that. 

I need to wrap my Mom's presents. Merry Christmas, and happy holidays, if you celebrate. 

Thanks for reading. Leave comments if you wish.

After all this time? (I know it hasn't been THAT long, it just seems it to me.)

Always.