I didn’t sleep last night, which is different from normal when I’m in this depressive fog, usually I shut down and my body just wants to sleep 22 of the 24 hours of the day.  It has no desire to think or function and feeling anything is just exhausting.

I turned on a movie, it was definitely a mistake.  Maybe I should have read the synopsis first, though I don’t think it would have changed anything or prepared me for my reaction.

It’s a movie.  Did it make it worse knowing it was based on real life?  This wasn’t real though, this was just a movie.  It was an actress being beaten and raped while unconscious, it was an act… and yet it provoked such a physical reaction from me.  The pain and the panic was much too real.  When she came to she fought, hard.  Watching them cut her body from the snow made the flakes falling on either side of the TV all the sadder.

I use to think that I was a fighter… now I don’t know that I have anything left.  Now I think I might close my eyes and accept things as they are.

Missouri text me this morning, he’s back in town for work and wants to meet downtown this evening for drinks.  I’ve always hated downtown.  Well I love downtown when it’s me and the girls at a restaurant for good food and a few glasses of wine.  The bar scene has never been mine.  I hate dancing.  I hate crowds.  Until recently I hated feeling intoxicated, hated not feeling in control.

Now I find myself in that scene that I hated, in a state that I hated on a regular bases.  I don’t know why I do it.  I go to these bars already far too fucked up where I lack control, then I put myself in some random cab and drive 45 minutes through secluded areas with spotty cell service and just cross my fingers that I’ll get home in one piece.

I use to think that I was doing it because I craved physical touch (to put it tactfully)… of someone who’s not my husband.  Judge me if you must, I probably would… there’s a lot to unpack there.  But I don’t think that’s it.  Missouri is a very tall, attractive, successful guy… but just like the rest of them the thought of him touching me makes my skin crawl.  I definitely know I want physical touch… just not from some random guy I met in a bar… I don’t think.

I know that physical pain provides some relief emotionally.  Maybe that would too, maybe it would make me feel something.  Maybe I shouldn’t want to feel anymore.  Maybe it would be the same as finding the tears, it would thaw out more if the numb that Im trying so hard to find my way back to.

I’m talking myself in circles without finding any answers.  Maybe I try again later, maybe I end up downtown with Missouri.  It’s only early.  Lots of time for good intentions to go to shit.


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