I'm happy...that lump I wrote about a couple weeks ago is basically gone. Now, however, I have a new issue. Since Saturday I've had very sharp sparking pains originating from the same area.
This is going on behind my left breast near my sternum.
I thought I was dealing with it silently but apparently not. When the pains start, I guess I take in a sharp intake of breath. One of the teenagers caught me and told her father. He literally grabbed me and took me to the supermarket to check my blood pressure.
It's extremely high.
It is usually extraordinarily low.
I think I've hit my stress limit.
I think of what is going on and my chest hurts. I thought it was heartache.
Now, I think it is just the flu.
I can't eat.
I can't sleep.
I've stopped downing sleeping pills and Valerian infused vodka with red wine. I'm thinking that too many sedatives may be behind the problem. I could be replacing mental anguish with physical pain.
I feel better. I just pop a sleeping pill now and lay awake for hours while letting my mind wonder.
I think about HIM.
HIM refers to the guy who haunts my dreams. He is my high school sweetheart. Every year my internal version of his image changes. This year, my subconscious mind has given him the Wild Child from Borneo look. I see him like he is around thirty-five years old, with brown hair and a unkempt beard with little white hairs sneaking in around his mouth.
Whatever works, I guess.
I wish I'd stop.
I let my thoughts wonder as I pop the pill.
I was a drug addict when I was with HIM.
I didn't know it at the time but I think he knew.
Back in the day, I woke up around 6:00 a.m. everyday and pop a couple of diet pills with a diet Pepsi. I'd do the same at lunchtime and dinner.
I was really skinny.
Almost every day, he'd take me out and order stuff that looked very pretty good. He'd persuade me to eat. I actually got up to a size ten (or eight by today's standards) with him. That is the same size I am now when I work out two hours a day. The guy probably saved my life.
Then, to try to get some sleep, about 11:00 p.m., I'd pop a couple of sleeping pills.
I'd do this every day.....
One day he followed me to the drugstore at the mall and saw me buy my battery of pills. He was not happy with me. As we sat at a bus stop waiting to go home, he looked a little angry. Pissed, he took the pills out of the bottles, one by one, and flung them at me. Those stupid pills left tiny bruises on my arm.
We broke up after that.
To this day, I cannot go to the health food store that sits on that property now without remembering those little painful marks he left on my skin.
They outlawed the diet pills in the 90s.
I know how to synthesize them. The day I realized that....was the day I knew I had a problem.
I stopped. I no longer drink Diet Pepsi either.
A few months ago, another politician who has fibromyalgia shared her therapy for minimizing pain.
Do you want to know what it is? The exact same sinus medication that I used to synthesize the diet pills.
I'm wondering...could I have been self-medicating all these years?
So, I'm back on the protocol.
I've lost a heck of a lot of weight. My pants started to fall off in public today.
I've got to buy new clothes.
I let my mind wonder a little more.
I think of being stuck in this house. The stabbing pains behind my left breast come back.
I guess the pain is a signal that I've got to be making changes in my life.
I know there is a lesson with Tom and that's why I'm thinking of him so much.
Aside from the fact that I am afraid that I am continuing to attract second rate versions of him into my life as potential dating partners, I would not know what the lesson could be.
Yes...I fear that all the guys that came after him were too similar to him to admit.
Even now...
the guys who ask me to coffee
are ALL software programmers....
tall....
with brown hair....
blue eyes.....
well mannered....
with devious grins....
and ulterior motives.
I finally realized that asking one out for coffee and a professional opinion are code for wanting to see if you are available to screw.
I gave up coffee.
When my deceased father's family tracked me down in '99, they gave me photos of my dad.
I was a little freaked out.
Tom was the spitting image of my father.
My mind wanders more....
Yesterday, I had the sex talk with my eldest daughter.
Sex talks are different for every stage of one's life.
At three years of age, you let the little girl know that babies come from special hugs.
At seven, you confirm the gross thing that their friends tell them.
At fourteen, you tell them to wait for someone worthy enough to see their sacred treasure.
At sixteen, you make them consider birth control.
At eighteen, you remind them that boys will say anything not to be safe.
At twenty-one, it's along the lines of 'there is a reason that they call porn stars actresses.' Most women can't biologically orgasm until their mid-twenties. Don't sweat it. Don't fake it.
With my twenty-two year old daughter, it was different this time. She's in a hurry to replace her first love. He left. She wants someone else.
I asked her to wait.
It's not worth it.
It took me twenty some odd years to realize that I keep bringing the same person back to me in different incarnations.
Why would anyone want to go through all that hell over and over and over again?
Why would she?
It's easier just to do whatever comes naturally and not try to get a man.
She told me that her love is trying to come back.
Then I grow silent and focus on that thought.
Perhaps I found the lesson behind the constant thoughts of Tom.
Life is a journey. Some times our friends get to see us on the beginning of our journey, some in the middle, some at the end. Some times we get lucky and have someone with us every step of the way.
Sometimes we part and come back together after twenty years, only for the guy to exclaim that he's incredibly happy that the woman is no longer a part of his life.
Alrighty then...at least it wasn't a bad start to the journey.
Damn it.... self-reflection is not a comfortable thing.
Hmmm...that's interesting....the pain is gone.
Life is good.
Love,
S.
Edit 03/17/12
The eldest took her first love back.
That isn't what I meant.
I mean...he needs to find himself. She needs to get away from him if he's going to run up the credit cards, refuse to pay his share of the bills and throw them into bankruptcy.
She needs to leave if he's petting other kitties.
But...she protests....they had a kid together. She can't let him be homeless.
Crap...
Where the hell did she learn to do that?
My ex asked me that question last night.
I said she learned it from me. I took Mike back four times over the past decade because I felt guilty that he was sleeping in his car.
If we want to fix this, we've got to file for divorce.
I remember the old saying...
If you ever want something badly, let it go. If it comes back to you, then it's yours forever. If it doesn't, then it was never yours to begin with.
I may truly need to consider letting him go on his journey and come back when he grows up, otherwise she's going to end up hating the man after she suffers a thousand cuts at his inept, childish hands.
Oh crap...
how many times do old flames have to come back before you think they can be your friend?
Is five times enough?
How much of this is projection?
Oh crap...
I've been a bitch over the past twenty-five years.
Now, I'm just a confused bitch.
He came back five times.....
Now, I'm pondering why that was.
Hmmmmm.....
Love ya,
S.
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