help

I was about 6 years old and alone in my room staring out of the window. I'm not too sure, but I think it was about 4pm. My mom was in her bedroom lying on her bed. We had no power, so the apartment was deathly quiet. I stared out into the empty soccer field my window overlooked and wished there were some kids playing in it. Anything to watch besides the ants climbing up my window.

I thought about my older sister who was away at boarding school, and imagined how much fun I'd be having if she was home. She was really funny and would have me on the floor laughing all the time. I knew my mom would soon yell for me to get her another beer from the refrigerator, and I dreaded hearing that call. I didn't want to go in her room because all she did was snap and yell at me all the time. She and my father would fight constantly when he was home, and I was hoping he wouldn't come home soon because in the mood she was in, I knew they'd start up again, and my lip still hurt from when it got slammed against the wall the night before. I'd done exactly what my sister had told me a million and one times to stop doing; I'd tried to stop him from hitting her. I sucked on my lip softly and flopped backwards on to my bed reaching for a book on the side of my bed as I did so. I didn't know what book I’d get, but I kept a steady stash between my bed and the wall; Saved me having to get up to grab one from the yellow bookshelf on the other side of my room.

*"Sam!”, I heard my mom yell from her room. I sighed, answered with a not so loud "Yes mommy, I'm coming!", and hurried towards her before she'd have to yell again. That'd probably get her really mad, and I did not feel like having another slipper thrown at me. I walked into her bedroom and stood cautiously by the door. The drapes were all pulled and it was so dark in there, I could barely make out her form on the bed. As my eyes grew accustomed to the dark, I realized that she was laying on her left side facing the other way; With her back to me. I knew then that I could get as close as I wanted because she wouldn't get mad. When she lay like that, she was crying. I climbed up on the bed and went and lay next to her as quietly as I could. As I settled in, I could make out her quiet sobs and her little whispers. "What am I going to do?" She cried over and over. Although I had to strain to hear her, I knew from past experience that she was crying really hard, so I put my hand on her right shoulder to let her know that I was there. With her.

With one very sudden, quick move, she rolled and flipped over to face me. Neither of us said anything, and as I laid there with my head on the pillow, with my eyes looking into hers, I couldn't help but cry too. I didn't know exactly why she was crying, but I knew it was because of my dad. I didn't know how, but I wanted to make things right. I reached out and put my hand in hers because I wanted to feel really close to her, and as I did this, she started to cry harder. Thinking I'd done something wrong, I tried to pull my hand back, but she held on to it really tightly and shook her head "no".

After a minute or two of both of us laying there crying, she sat up and wiped her face with the sleeve of her nightgown. "Sam, sit up" she said as she blew her nose. I sat up quickly, eager to do all I could to ease or soothe her pain somehow. She reached for my other hand and pulled me on to my knees. She got on her knees as well, and we both knelt there looking at each other, with our hands clasped. "Sam, I want you to listen to me very carefully, ok?" she asked. She leaned forward as she said this, and our faces were so close to each other that I remember looking at the red veins in her eyes and wondering if mine would turn that red if I cried all day too. "Yes Ma'am", I whispered back. "Sam, when you grow up, you don't EVER let a man treat you like your daddy treats me. You're going to grow up, go to college, and get job that pays so well that you'll be able to leave any man that would dare put his hands on you, or your children...right?...RIGHT???!!!!" She yelled that last word out with such... force that she unintentionally hit her forehead against mine. Hard. I wanted to rub it because it hurt, but I didn't. I couldn't. I seemed completely unable to look away from her eyes.

She made me promise her that I'd never settle when it came to men. That I'd find a man who would appreciate me and treat me like my dad was not treating her. Over and over, she made me promise, and over and over, I did. She cried hard and desperately as she explained to me that in ‘regular homes’, moms and dads did not fight like she and my dad did. She told me that I deserved better, and to always remember that no man who truly loved me would hit me or make me cry.

As I walked away from her bedroom later that night, I told myself that if any man ever touched me when I grew up, I would kill him with a knife. (Looking back now, I have NO clue why I thought of a knife...It's just one of those weird things, I guess) I told myself that if I had a boyfriend and a husband who EVER made me cry, I would leave him immediately. I wouldn't care why or how, and there'd be no second chances. I would pack up my things and leave; Like I wished my mom would.

It’s December 19th, 2006, and I'm now 28. It's 10:49pm, and I can't stop crying because my heart feels heavier than lead. I've of course learned how impractical my little 'vow' was back then. I've cried a million and one times over this man, and even though I 'did' pack up my stuff and leave when things deteriorated to a point where I started to fear for my sanity, I find that leaving didn't 'fix it'. I'm still crying... Does anyone know how to make the tears stop?

* Not my real name

NOW

So today is the 9th of December 2006, and this has now become my new blog... My space to vent, moan, whine, rejoice... everything. I don't know when I'll post next... Knowing me, it'll be really soon... I guess till then, we'll wait.

Reflections

This was my most recent craigslist post. I think it's self explanatory.


Originally Posted on December 7th, 2006.

How do you know when you find true love? how can you tell? What is it that tells you that 'this' one... 'this' man/woman is the one you're meant to spend the rest of your life with? How do you know this?, and when you find it, do you wish it sometimes would come with a trouble shooting manual? Something that would tell you not only ‘what’ was wrong/broken, but ‘how’ to fix it? *sigh*… don’t we all.

My ex boyfriend and I broke up a couple of months ago... After 3 and a half years together. When we first met, I remember how we'd lay in bed night after night unable to sleep because we were so... 'excited' about being together. I remember that for months after we met, I'd watch him sleep and marvel at how lucky I was... I'd rub his head and thank God for sending me this... this.. angel... It was nuts. I couldn't get over how 'alike' and 'in tune' we seemed. We found the same things funny, we liked the same movies, we talked the same way... It was uncanny how alike we were, and it didn't stop there. We shared the same views on pretty much everything. We liked the same music, the same artists, and I remember how we'd lay there for hours just listening to song after song.

My son was almost 3 when we met, and I had been a little nervous about how he'd deal with this new addition to our life... Wow. It was like a freaking Danielle Steele novel, because my son just loved him, and they got along like a house on fire. We were like a '3 member Brady family'... It was great. We were happy... we did things together... We were our own little.. 'family'. I mean, I wish I could put into words the feelings that I felt for him. I'm not a child.. I'm in my late 20s, so I had just turned 25 when we met. I'd been in relationships before... I'd been in "love" (and I use that term loosely) before... but not like this. This...? This felt right... I'd never felt so comfortable, so at peace with anyone, like I did with him.... It was truthfully amazing... I remember that there was this distinct feeling I used to get every time he walked in the door... I remember that feeling VERY well. He'd walk in, I'd hear the door slam, and wherever I was, my heart would literally ... 'lift'. I know... that sounds crazy and corny all in one, but it's true... I don't care what mood I was in, how upset or mad that I was before he walked through that door... The very 'minute' I heard him walk in, everything would seem fine... just everything.

Well, in the 3 and a half years we stayed together, it's safe to say that we had our share of problems... Oh my God, did we ever...! Big ones, small ones, petty ones, major ones... we had 'em all. Sometimes we'd have them in rows... You know? One thing after another thing, after another thing, after another thing... and sometimes?... Sometimes we wouldn't have them at all... and it was 'these times' that made EVERYTHING worth it... I have to say here that I realize how dumb I probably sound right now... how... 'ditzy'. Well, I'm not... not anymore... I'm just writing things as they were, and just because it 'sounds' like it couldn't have happened, doesn't mean it didn't.... There’s something about looking into someone’s eyes and actually 'seeing' the love in them... there’s something about laying in bed with someone, and having all your body parts 'fit' like they were meant to be there from the very start. There’s something about having someone 'know' you, almost as well...sometimes better, than you know yourself... There were a lot of 'somethings' with him and I. A lot.

People noticed it everywhere we went... His family... my family... my son... we were just 'special'… I seriously think that this feeling had a lot to do with the demise of us… of what we had, because we were so busy being and feeling ‘special’, that we sort of neglected ‘keeping’ us special… does that make sense?

Let’s see… This is probably going to suck, but hey…I’m terrible at things like this, so please bear/work with me. You walk into Tiffanys and purchase THE most expensive diamond necklace they have... take it home, and stare at it lovingly for a while... You sit there and marvel at how 'sparkly' it is, and how nice it looks against your throat... Occasionally, you hold it up to the light, and feel your jaw drop in awe at how it glistens, and how the light bounces off each and every rock…You wear it out, and proudly show it off to anyone and everyone who cares to look... If they don't look, you find a way to flaunt it in front of them... Yes.. It’s beautiful, expensive, and its all yours... no one else’s.

Time passes; things change... oh, but let's not forget what they say, huh? 'A diamond lasts forever'... Right? Well, what happens if as time passes, you don't take as good care of that necklace as you did when you first got it?... You wear it to party after party.... event after event... Sometimes, when you get home, you're so tired that you can't really be bothered to put it away.. you know? You leave it laying on the dresser a couple of times... even more time passes, and other things start to happen... You drop it a couple of other times... your toddler who's attracted to anything shiny, grabs it, attaches it to his Tonka Truck, and attempts to use it as pulley... Eventually, it starts to lose some of its sparkle... right? I mean, don't get me wrong, a diamond is a diamond, and with a little cleaning at the local jeweler, it can be looking good as new again... but who has time for that? Life has sort of taken over, hasn't it? You still love it...occasionally, you work yourself into a righteous fit, dig it out from under whatever it's buried, and attempt to clean it yourself... If that doesn't work, you 'do' take it to the jewelers and he 'does' do his magic, and before you know it, good as new! You'll take better care of it this time, you swear to yourself. You pull your toddler into your bedroom, and point at the necklace sitting in its case, as you vehemently tell/warn him not to EVER touch it again...

"Wait!".. I hear you thinking as you read this;...”You’re being ridiculous! I WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO A DIAMOND NECKLACE"... maybe... maybe not, but my point is this: I don't care how 'special' something is... How 'pretty'...how 'expensive' it is... If you don't take care of it, it'll lose its allure, and sometimes, its worth. NOTHING is invincible... and nothing stands a chance of longevity without the proper care... Nothing... I don't care how precious it is, how rare, how durable... everything requires some sort of maintenance... you neglect that; you lose it... simple and short.

It isn't always this dismal though... sometimes you luck out, and are able to catch and fix your relationship before it gets too bad... You notice the slippery slope of failure you're headed down on, and work together to do some major damage control, you know? You each stop, reassess things and decide together what the next step is to take...things usually works out well after that, because you have a new appreciation for things… You treat each other better, love each other a little more... your hugs are a little more meaningful now, because you realize how dear that ‘being’ you're holding is to you....that kind of thing... If this is you... God bless... you lucked out and saved yourself some major pain.

Most people aren't that lucky... they never realize what they're losing until they've lost it, and when they do realize that it's gone... they refuse to accept it, and out of panic and desperation, attempt to get it back... They start doing things they should have done months (even years) before... *sigh*... Again, sometimes it works, MOST times, it doesn't. No? You don't think so? I do... When my boyfriend and I first broke up, I REFUSED to accept it...I couldn't. I just couldn’t' see how we could be 'done'.. you know? "No, not us...", I'd say over and over... I'd tell myself that it was a temporary thing, and that we'd be back together soon... well... we didn't, we haven't... we're not.

I'm in a much better place than I was a couple of months ago... much. I feel healthier and I feel stronger. Do I miss him? Of course I do... very much. He was my "baby", and its safe to say that I would have given anything for him. I miss him so much sometimes, it hurts, you know? I miss the little smart ass comments he made about everything… I miss his sharp wit… I miss the way he’d throw his head back and laugh heartily, if he found something funny enough… I miss having him next to me at night… I miss going to breakfast or dinner with him… I miss standing in front of the ‘Redbox’ machine with him, as we tried to decide what movies to rent…I miss talking to him in the car… I miss watching Law & Order with him… watching Entourage with him… going to the movies… I miss how we’d go outside to the porch to smoke, and how he would stand right in front of me, so I could lean into him… the intimacy we shared… the friendship… I miss him… us.

To point fingers now at who 'was wrong', or who's fault it was, would be just plain dumb... Absolutely nothing good can come out of shit like that... Even though he and I are done now, I guess I can say I learned a thing or two from this whole experience... you know? I know to express my feelings better in my next relationship... I know to let him know (whoever he is) how important he is to me... I know to let the little things go, because its the big things that count... I know to back down sometimes, even when I'm right... and when I'm not?... I know not to try to convince him that I am.... I know to take things a little slower this time... get to know him better before handing him my heart, gift wrapped and packaged...

My friend asked me tonight if I thought that going through such a painful breakup would affect my next relationship... she wanted to know if I would be able to let my guard down ever again... Truthfully, if I've learned ANYTHING from this past relationship, it's that life is too fucking short... you know? My next relationship, yes...I'll be a tad more cautious... yes, I'll think things through/over a little more thoroughly, but NO, I will not hold myself back from loving, or being loved... Yes, I'm aware of how 'textbook-ish' and corny I sound right now... but it's true. I will love the next man that I call my boyfriend with as much vigor and as much intensity as I loved this past one... if not more... It just won't be 'blind love', that’s all... I won't close my eyes to the obvious, destructive flaws (NOTE the word destructive...I'm not talking about flaws like... "He leaves the toilet seat up") this time... that's the whole point of living, isn't it? To enjoy life as best we can by learning from our mistakes... no?...

ANYWAY!!! You guys get the gist… If what you have right now is important to you… take the best care of it, and never, ever, assume that it’ll be ‘ok’. If you’ve lost something important, learn from you mistakes, and move on… That’s what I’m doing…I’m slowly but surely re-tracing my steps and preparing myself for whatever the future holds for me… Yes, again with the cheesy statements… I know. It hasn’t been the best journey… and it hasn’t been the easiest…I’m learning with every step though… every step, no matter how freaking little… I’m learning. I’m loving it, and I truthfully cannot wait to see what I find at the end of it.

Accepting Change... Finally.

I posted this one a day after... I truthfully think though, that this was the turning point for me... I don't know what happened that night, but it was the first time that I 'really' felt like everything could and would be okay. I felt like even though I didn't fully understand everything in my life, I was fine with things... It felt good to post.

Originally Posted on December 3rd, 2oo6.

Does anyone wonder where logic and common sense go after a break up? Do you ever do things that make you sit down and question your sanity? I’ve done things (and sometimes still do) that make me wonder if something is wrong somewhere, and if all my ‘faculties’ are working right. This is what my break up has reduced me to; A self doubting, self loathing (sometimes), clingy, whiny, needy, constantly sobbing mess, and I want the old me back OH so bad.

I was listening to Beyonce's song 'Irreplaceable' last night on my way home from work, and as I listened to her belt out the words "I can have another you by tomorrow, so don't you ever for a minute get to thinking... you're irreplaceable", I started wondering just how possible a thing that is... you know? To have someone in your life that's so special, yet so ... dispensable. Is that almost like a paradox or an oxymoron? Is it possible to call something 'special', and yet possess the ability to toss it without a second thought when you want to? Don't get me wrong, I don't think people are irreplaceable... at least, not all people. There 'are' those certain very special people in your life who are just not meant to be replaced; regardless of what, how, or why it happens... For me? That person'd be my son. Definitely irreplaceable, you know? No doubt, no question.

Anyway, her song got me thinking about my current situation. I've been broken up from my boyfriend for 2 months now. It's now the 3rd day in December, so we're going into our third month of being broken up... As I listened to her song, I initially started to sing along because of the 'catchiness' of the tune, you know? It's got this nice, upbeat, tempo; and she's got that nice, sultry voice with which she sings those words with 'just enough' feeling and determination to get 'you' thinking YOU mean her words... does that even make sense? I hope so... It made sense in my head.

So I'm belting out the words in my car, snapping my fingers, and swinging my neck... you know, singing with attitude. Imagining the look on the 'ex's face as I assured him that his replacement would be in his very spot by the next day... then the song ended and a 'Belden Jewelers' commercial came on. Well, that sort of did it for me. Apparently, my ex is not as replaceable as I'd like him to be because I broke down crying. I wasn't sobbing or anything...just sort of crying softly, and to those of you who don't know (which in this case, would be pretty much anyone reading this), that's a HUGE step up from a couple of weeks ago.

My ex is not irreplaceable. I know this... I just currently lack the conviction, strength, and will power to actually accept this little but extremely important fact. There are good days and bad days. Some days, I wake up and everything is just fine. I'm able to get up when my alarm goes off, I'm chirpy and happy as I get my son ready for school... At work, I'm pumped, getting shit done, getting shit done 'ON TIME', chatting with the co-workers... all of that. On those days, when he crosses my mind, my thoughts are along the lines of "I can't wait to move on, he was SUCH bad news! I'm glad that's behind me... It feels good to finally stop crying"... you get the picture. The bad days however... *sigh*. The alarm goes off and I don't even want to open my eyes. When I do, it's to the realization that it's another day, and I'm going to have to face a full 12 or more hours of 'effective functioning' feeling like crap... When I'm finally able to drag my body out of bed, I'm heading straight for my phone to check for missed calls, and the lack of any sinks me even lower... Work is a drag because I can't seem to get anything done. I'm checking my mail and phone constantly, I'm thinking up reasons to email him, I'm heading into the bathroom to go bawl every couple of minutes... it's quite bad and pathetic, really.

So who are those people? Those people in the movies, the TV shows, the music videos that we watch everyday? The ones that get over their exes in record time? You know what I'm talking about... You've seen the movies. They're in relationships for years, and then they break up. Their close friends decide after 2 weeks (at the very most) that it's time to stop moping and 'move on'. They're treated to dinners at expensive restaurants, or 'days out' at the local, luxury spa... you know? Then what happens? They 'accidentally' bump into character that’ll be the new love of their lives... Their 'one'... They always seem to move on so effortlessly and quickly too, you know? I guess it helps that the new 'love' is usually a much improved version of the ex, you know? Taller... blonder (or in some cases, completely opposite color hair)...better job... more sensitive...more 'in tune'... that kind of thing.

How about the ways they meet? Don't you just love that? I know I do... they'll like 'bump' into each other, or catch a brief but powerful glimpse of each other from across a roomful of people.. You know. That kind of thing. Nice. It makes for 'tingles' in my stomach, and hope in my heart... lol. I know that sounds corny as all hell, but hey... I'm a girl, and I can dream. I haven't been treated to dinner or a night out at the spa yet. I haven't bumped into the future love of my life at a crowded supermarket or store. I haven't glimpsed him in a roomful of strangers yet either.... Actually, my life has remained perfectly normal. Nothing new, nothing exciting, nothing fun. I still miss the ex, I still cry, I still ponder the 'what ifs' over and over in my head.

That’s something else I don't get... the 'what ifs'. See, I'd understand it if this ex I've been referring to was this wonderful, incredible person who I let slip through my fingers by committing some terribly wrong, unforgivable deed, you know? He isn't.... and that's not the bitterness or anger speaking. He wasn't a very nice person. He could be when he wanted to, but most times, he was just this really, really, mean, spiteful, selfish, person, you know? He did some pretty hurtful mean things to me, and if I were watching 'my' story on TV, I'd probably yell out names at my character the very minute I started to miss him (his character)... I'd shake my head, and wonder out loud why some women choose to be treated like crap... That kind of thing. You'd probably say the same too... If you knew the whole story.

I don't know... I don't understand it. It's almost beyond my control. I sit here telling myself I'm going to do 'this' or do 'that', but instead, I'm calling him, or checking my email a million and one times to see if he's written. The tears. Well, I do have to admit that it's gotten a little better lately... I guess the tear ducts can only secrete so much fluid before they either quit or go on strike... I don't cry as often or as much as I did about a month ago.... A month ago (Heck, a week ago!), everything and anything would reduce me to tears. You know, I'd read all these 'Steps to getting over a broken heart' articles online, and they'd ALWAYS say how the 'broken hearted' has to give herself/himself time to mourn the relationship. You're told that it's ok to cry because you've lost something special/dear to you, and you miss it (even if the relationship was not the best one). Tears are actually welcome, they say. Well I was glad to hear that I'll tell you, because I was scared I was losing my mind. I didn't understand how it was possible to cry so much and so intensely about someone who treated me so dreadfully. I'd never had to deal or battle with such conflicting emotions in my whole life. I still cry now, just not as much...

How about the humiliation? Oh my goodness, the humiliation I've suffered and put myself through!!! That's another thing that was mentioned in those articles... Apparently humiliating oneself is part of the 'getting over the ex' ritual. I cringe at some of the things I've done. Calling him and begging him to think about us getting back together... Calling him and telling him about the changes 'I' was ready to make for the 'new us'... Calling him and shamelessly begging him to take me back.... Calling him and just plain sobbing about how much I miss him... how much I miss us... That kind of thing. *sigh*. Isn't that just freaking amazing? 'Me' begging 'him' to come back. Him. This same guy, who in all the years we were together, betrayed my trust and loyalty in every single way that he could. The things that he did and the things that I stayed for... My goodness, I could write an entire book about the crap that I've been through... WHY THE HECK THEN, AM I BEGGING HIM TO COME BACK???!!! I ended the freaking relationship! I finally decided that my self esteem and heart had taken too much of a beating, and I didn't want to have to deal with that anymore! It was 'my' call! *sigh*. The human mind never ceases to amaze me.

*sigh*. So I'm taking things a day at a time. Eventually, my heart will catch up with my brain, and they’ll be in sync.... Logic will seep through all these walls and curtains of sentiments, memories, and emotions that dictate my thoughts and actions... If that makes any sense. I'm getting there. I can feel it... I'm almost there... I can see where I need to be on the horizon. I just wish I could get there sooner, you know?

Lonely

My emotions over the past number of months have confused, annoyed, and shocked me many, many times. I put up this post on December 2nd 2006. I was away from the city for a while, and hadn't spoken to, or seen the ex. Whilst doing other things online, he popped in my thoughts for one reason or the other, and the intensity with which I missed him at that very moment shocked and scared me. Here's a post I put up... It's really short, but it was how I was feeling.


Originally Posted on December 2nd, 2006.

Nights like this are the worst. I miss you so much it hurts. All I want to do is pick up the phone and dial your number... hear your voice. Talk about everything... anything. You'd say something, and I'd laugh, and I say something witty back. We'd laugh together... talk together. Like we used to... then maybe you'd come over here, or I come there, and we'd rent a movie to watch together... You'd put your head on my chest like you used to and I'd rub your hair and your head... I'd rub your back, and hold you really tight. I'd tell you I love you, and you'd tell me you love me too... After the movie, you'd roll over like you do when you're getting ready to fall asleep, and I'd roll over as well as I slip my arms under and through yours. I'd put my ankles between yours, and we'd talk for a little while before we each drifted off... *sigh*. Its nights like this that are the worst. I miss you so much it hurts.

I can't call you though... and if I did, I doubt we'd find anything to laugh about. We haven't laughed together in ages. If I called you, we'd make awkward conversation for a couple of minutes, and if don't hang up right after, we'll inevitably start arguing about something or the other. You'll get curt, I'll get upset... You'll hang up; I'll hate myself for calling. You and I... we're done. I know this now; I see it now.... *sigh*. It's for the best; it's what we both needed. Still doesn't make it any easier though, you know?

Very Shortly After

Originally Posted on November 27th, 2006.

So it's been over a week since I had the procedure done. Thanks to the Thanksgiving holiday, I only had to work 2 of 5 days this week... Not bad.

My emotions haven't completely stabilized yet. For some reason, I was under the impression that I'd be normal again right after the deed... Well, not yet. It's calmed down some (as I don't burst into tears every 2 seconds anymore), but I believe I still have some ways to go... My body seems to be recovering ok... My boobs are still tender, but my uterus shrunk already... I can tell... My mind on the other hand, is an entirely different story... I find that for some reason or the other, I'm seeing babies and pregnant women everywhere I turn. I don't know if this entire experience has just heightened my awareness of such things, but it appears as though I'm unable to escape from them. At the supermarket on Wednesday night, I was in line waiting to pay for my cranberry sauce with my son when I felt someone tap my shoulder. I turn around, and standing there is my friend Maria... Maria and I used to work together, and she's actually one of the few people I keep in touch with... Prior to meeting at the store that day though, we hadn't spoken in about a month or two.

She's excited to see me, and I feel the same. She hugs my son and tells me how tall she thinks he's getting... It's the night before Thanksgiving, so I ask if she'll be going to her familys for dinner... "No, not this year... I'm going over to Danny’s", she replies. Danny is her boyfriend of 3 years, with whom she's lived for 2. I ask how he's doing, and she tells me he's great, but has been working a lot of overtime lately... Apparently, they're trying to save up for a bigger place. The line is moving swiftly, and it's almost my turn, so being that I'm busy putting all my groceries on the belt, I'm only able to half-listen to Maria... When I'm able to turn my full attention back to her, she has a look on her face like she's waiting for me to say something... I apologize, and ask her to repeat what she'd just said... hardly able to hide her rapidly widening smile, she informs me that she and Danny are pregnant, and the baby is due in June... For some reason, the month 'June' sticks in my head, and I'm not sure why... I ask her how far along she is, and she tells me "almost 8 weeks"... It's then that it hit me. I was supposed to be due in June as well! (Prior to discussing the abortion, I had gone to a pharmacy, purchased some Pre natal pills, and talked at length with the pharmacist, who then helped calculate my due date to be June 21st).

Wow. I look at the look of pure glee on her face, and give her a big hug. She's very excited, and starts talking a dime a minute... she tells me about Danny, and how excited he is. His parents are thrilled as well, and everyone has taken to pampering her, and indulging her every need even though she's only 7 weeks along. She tells me she wants a boy, but Danny's hoping for a girl.... "We have names picked out and everything!” she informs me as she starts to unload her cart... "When are you and ...... going to have a baby, girl? You guys've been together for as long as Danny and I, haven't you?...". My groceries are bagged and waiting, and I use the fact that I have to pay as an excuse to stall for a little bit of time... After the transactions have been completed, I turn around to bid Maria Adieu. I don't really want to talk about ANYTHING baby/boyfriend/relationship related, so being that a couple of minutes have lapsed since she asked, I'm hoping to get away without actually having to answer her question.

I appear to have lucked out because when I turn back to her, she seems occupied with her groceries. Hoping to get away, I congratulate her, and tell her I have to leave because my son is exhausted. "Wait for me M...., I'm done already!", she yells back. *sigh*. We walk out to our cars together, and as we're parked pretty close to each other (yes, just my luck), we keep talking back and forth as we load our trunks... She's telling me about how she's been feeling, and how excited they are... She's telling me about how Danny was so excited when he found out, that he went to Babies R Us, and purchased a crib immediately. She's telling me how they've decided not to find out the sex of the baby, and that they'll just buy a lot of neural colored baby clothes... I make no effort to interrupt her, because I'd rather not divert the attention back on/to me... Finally, we're done, and I could not be happier. I promise to call her that weekend, and she promises to say hi to Danny for me. We smile, hug, wave, and it is with great relief that I watch her drive off.

As expected, that bothered me some. Danny, Maria, 'This dude', and I started dating at about the same time... We used to double date and hang out all the time. About 7 months into each relationship, Danny and Maria broke up... I remember that she'd come by my apt constantly to talk and cry, and I'd sit with her, rub her hair, and try to comfort her by telling her that sometimes "love just isn’t enough"... Of course, 'dude' and I would talk later about what we thought they did wrong, and how lucky (and smart) we were to not make such mistakes... When Danny and Maria got back together about a month or two later, we of course starting hanging out with them again, but we always had this smug, confident, 'wise', air around us... I mean, 'we' didn't break up... 'We' had our stuff together... 'We' were a 'real' couple. Well, it's 3 and a half years later, and Danny and Maria are not only engaged to be married, they're apparently expecting a baby... I'd laugh if the joke wasn't on me.

Moving on. The weekend was quite uneventful... Thanksgiving was a bust because my son got sick, so he and I stayed home all day. We cancelled with my sister and her family, and as I hadn't anticipated being home on that day of all days, I had put off grocery shopping till Friday... Needless to say, I regretted procrastinating as soon as I opened my cabinet Thursday night... We ended up eating noodles... Ramen noodles. Just so you know, that was VERY depressing... sitting in my tiny apt alone with my son on Thanksgiving eating Ramen noodles and drinking soda...

Saturday, my son turned 6, and his party went by without a hitch. The magician came by and wowed the rapt audience of children and adults, and my son got to do his grand finale by pulling a bunny out of the thin air... Needless to say, all went well. It was a nice sunny day, and as I drove home, I remember feeling pretty optimistic about my life and how things would work out for me... I felt better than I'd felt in days, and I clung to that feeling tightly. I'm driving down the highway (my sons passed out in the backseat), listening to the radio when my phone rings. I pull it out of my purse, and my heart stops when I see your name flashing on the screen. Good feelings gone, I'm severely panicked, and don't know what to do. To avoid getting into an accident in my current state, I pull over to the side of the road and answer it. We each say hello, and ask how the other is doing... The conversation is incredibly awkward, and we're being overly polite to the other. You ask how the party went, and I tell you it was a blast... awkward silence. Just as I'm about to say something, you clear your throat, and tell me that you've just had a long talk with your (used to 'our') roommate. "Oh" I say, because I can think of nothing else appropriate. You go on to tell me that you and he had had a long conversation about God, Christ, Church, and faith... (The roommate's a born again Christian). This time, my "Oh" is a little louder... You say you'll be going to church with him (the roommate) tomorrow (Sunday), and that you're kind of excited.

I have NO clue how to respond to anything you've just said, so I tell you I think it's a good idea. The entire situation/conversation is incredibly surreal to me, and I'm completely confused. You ask for me to wish the child a happy birthday for you, and after a couple of awkward silences, we each say "bye" and hang up. I pull back on the highway thinking about the short conversation we've just had. I'm analyzing the conversation as I drive... I pick apart every word uttered, and the tone/volume/speed it was uttered. It's quite pathetic really.

Fast-forward to Sunday night. I'm home getting dinner ready for the child and I when my house phone rings. I curse myself for forgetting to shut the ringer off as I reach for the handset. Again, it's your number.... I answer the phone, and you yell an enthusiastic "hi!". I mutter something back, and you ask me if you can talk to me for a couple of minutes... I say "sure", but ask you if you can hold... "Of course" you say, and I put the phone down on the desk and literally run to my bedroom. I throw myself face down on the bed and wonder out loud what you want. I don't like that I've spoken to you twice in 2 days. I don't like that seeing your number/name on my caller ID has such an intense effect on me... I don't like that I haven't immediately hung up or not answered the phone each time you've called. I don't like that hearing from you has pretty much put me right back where I was a couple of weeks ago. I don't like that a little part of me actually wants to hear what you want to say. I don't like that I'm laying on my bed right now, all messed up in the head and emotional while you're sitting there not only in a good mood, but apparently very much at ease... I don't like you. I don't like me right now... It's safe to say that I just 'don't like.'

I get up and head back to the living room. I pick up the phone, and ask if you're still there. "Yeah... ", you casually throw back. I glance at the time on the cable box, and I've kept you waiting for about 7 minutes. "Huh...", I think... "That's weird... he'd ordinarily have hung up by now". As though reading my thoughts, you tell me you'd have stayed on hold for as long as you needed to, because it's very important to you that we speak... I sigh and walk over to shut off the burner heating the grease up in the kitchen... "I don't like that I just did that... I should have told him I was busy, and have him call me back", I think to myself... Well, it’s too late now. I sit on the chair in front of my computer desk... This way, I'm alert, upright, and since I'm surrounded by tons of files, folders, and papers, I have an 'official air' about me...

I ask whats up. You take a deep breath and start to tell me about your day. You'd woken up early in the morning, and had gone to church with your roommate... You tell me Church was great. The sermon was great, the minister was great, and it was a wonderful experience for you. .. You tell me you'd like me to know that you have accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior, and have become a born again Christian. You tell me that for the first time in your life, you feel 'whole', and that you can't wait to sit and read your bible tonight. I can tell from your tone that you mean every word you're saying, and that you really do feel like that... I sit there quietly... listening to you speak. For lack of anything better to say, I congratulate you, and wonder even as I utter those words if I actually do mean them... There's a slight pause, and I hear you say my name really quietly. When I answer, you tell me that you've been doing some major thinking, and that you'd like to pursue this as far as you can... You say it feels right, and you know it’s what you have to do... I don't say anything. You sigh and ask me if I'm aware that we'd been living in sin for the entire duration of our relationship... I don't say anything, and you go on to say that you're looking to make peace with God about that as well... You go on about your new found peace and joy for a couple of more minutes, then you excitedly tell me you have some bible passages you have to read, say 'bye' and we each hang up.

I sit in that chair for a long time after we hang up. I have so many thoughts going through my head that I can't even process one. I was raised in a Christian home, so I know how important what you've just said is... I'm aware of what a big deal it is... Why am I resentful then? Why are all these angry thoughts going through my mind? The longer I think about it, the angrier I get. Don't get me wrong; I'm well aware of how irrational my anger is... I just don't care at that moment. All I keep thinking is; "What??! Now he gets to go to heaven too??!!!". I mean, "come on!!". Can I catch a break? Where is the fairness in this ENTIRE situation? How does he get to mess up so badly and get away with it because he all of a sudden gives his life to Christ? *sigh*.. I don't know why I'm so upset, but I am... I want to break something, I want to kick something, I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to... I don't know what I want to do... *sigh*

I don't know how I feel right now... I'm almost scared that I feel as upset as I do, because I keep thinking I'll anger God... I want to leave this place so bad... Just pick up and leave... Go far from this City, go far from this State. If I could, I'd do it in a heartbeat... Would that be me tucking my tail between my legs, or would that be me making a wise decision? Now, the pain, hurt, anger, resentment have returned FULL FORCE, and now I can't even console myself with the thoughts of karma getting you... I almost want to buy some pills or something just to mess with you and watch you toss your whole new

Is it bad that I want you to hurt as badly as I am right now? Is it bad that I sit here and think up numerous scenarios about your life that end with you having lost everything that you hold dear to you, and begging me to take you back?.... I sit here and imagine you homeless and poor, with a habit that's way beyond control... How is it that I've come out of this situation a complete and total loser??!! Does nobody get justice anymore??? *sigh*. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to think... I don't know anything at all, and it scares me. What do I do? Where can I go? How soon can I go?....What do people in situations like mine do? I mean, I have people telling me that "I'll be ok...", or that "time will heal all", and other things like that.. What happens to the resentment? The anger? The hate? The desperate need to be avenged or vindicated? What happens to those feelings? Do they go away with time or do I just wake up one morning and realize that I don't care anymore? I was perfectly fine with rebuilding my life before you called... PERFECTLY FINE! Things weren't everything I wanted them to be, but I was able to rest assured in the thoughts that eventually, I'd be fine, and you'd get what you deserved... Isn't that supposed to be part of the whole 'life cycle' or something like that? Karma? Cause and effect?

*sigh*.So what now? I don’t know… The ‘voice of reason’ in my head tells me that nothings really changed. I should keep doing what I’m doing to rebuild my life. Nothing he does should affect me if I don’t let it… revenge isn’t everything, and my vindication will come when I pull myself out of this rut I’m in… When I’m happy again with a man deserving of the attention, sacrifices, and love that I wasted on ‘….’. Right? *sigh*… I really, really, really, want to feel like that… I do. Right now though? I’m sad, bitter, angry and resentful… shit. This sucks.

The Day

This was another post I up on craigslist.or after the procedure. I needed to let it out somehow, so one night when I couldn't sleep, I sat down, and wrote about it... Writing this was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.



Originally Posted on November 21st, 2006.

I arrive on Saturday morning to picketers standing outside with their signs, pamphlets, and pictures... 2 grotesque blown up pictures of dead, bloody fully formed babies grace the sidewalk on either side of road. I pull into the parking lot, and as I step out my car, I hear a number of them yelling out to me about the 'options' I have. They call me "young lady" and "sweetheart", and tell me to think hard about the life I'm ending... Why do people do that? You know nothing of me or my situation... what gives you the right? I put my head down and follow my assigned 'guide' with the bright yellow vest into the building....

I walk into the building and the waiting rooms full already. It's 8:10am Saturday morning, and I have about 12 other women ahead of me. My emotional strings are stretched taut, and I'm doing all I can to stay calm. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to run... I sit down instead. I start to fill out the many forms I've been given. My ringer is off, but I glance at my phone every other second to see if I have a missed call... a text message. Nothing. I think about you in Boston and wonder if you're up yet... If you 'are' up, I wonder if you're thinking about me... sitting here all alone ... I think about the argument we had Friday night, and how in an emotional fit of rage, I had told you I didn't want you with me... Somehow or the other, I guess I thought you'd have come anyway... that you'd be there to support me as I waited to abort your child... our child...

I steal a covert glance at the people seated right around me, and count 10 people in my 'section'. There's a couple seated to my left, hardly speaking. 'His' face is hidden behind a Red Sox hat pushed really low, and a VIBE magazine he's reading. She's staring stoically ahead, tapping her left foot rhythmically on the table in front of her. There are 2 girls seated on my right, giggling and chatting in low tones. The red head seated directly in front of me appears to be here alone as well, and from the way her eyebrows are scrunched up, I can tell she's doing some deep thinking... She glances occasionally at the red folder she's been given, reading through it and sighing. Most of the time though, she just sits there, staring out the window with that worried, pained look on her face... I sigh and glance at my phone again... nothing. I feel the tears start to prick the back of my eyes, and I sternly tell myself to "get my shit together"... No... "I will not cry", I mutter over and over.
More people come in, and no one leaves. Way across the room on the other side, sit 3 young women each of a different race (white, black, Asian), who sit talking and laughing about some TV show or the other. The loudest person by far is the little Asian chick. She has brown hair, big silver earrings, and a cute little purse. Her voice is surprisingly deep (or let's say full bodied) for one so small, and for the first hour or so, every time I hear her laugh out loud, I start and look up. This is not her first time here, and she's not ashamed of the fact... (Should she be? I wonder)... She tells the other girls that what she likes the least about this procedure is the fact that you're not allowed to eat after midnight... "I'm so fucking hungry, I could eat a whole chicken right about now!!" she bellows... Laughter all around. I look away pissed.. I'm not sure why I'm pissed, but I am. I just want to go home and lay down. I glance at my phone again, and my heart jumps at the sight of the little envelope blinking on the screen. I open it up eagerly, only to find that it's not you... It's Dell... checking in, making sure I'm ok. I reply that I'm waiting, and throw my phone in my purse. The tears start to well up again, but try as I can, I can't stop them. I hide my face behind the "Essence" magazine I'm holding, and take deep breaths till I'm calm again.

I hear my name. I'm called to the back for the Ultrasound and 'blood work'. The nurse that meets me at the door checks her folder against my wristband, and walks briskly to a room down the hall. As I walk in, I'm asked to please unbutton my jeans, pull them way down and get on the table. I lay back and watch as she squeezes out the cold gel on my stomach...She stares intently at the screen (conveniently positioned so I can't see it) as she runs the probe over my lower torso... It takes all of 5 minutes. She very deftly wipes me down and pronounces me 7 and a half week pregnant. *sigh*. I'm told to button up and head to the room right across ours... "Oh yeah", I think... "Blood work". The nurse in this room is very chirpy. Her eyes look red and half closed, and for a brief fleeting moment, I wonder if she's stoned. She makes conversation as she gets her 'tools' ready. She asks for a finger on my right hand, and I of course give her the middle one. She holds on to my hand gently, and smiles at me as she asks how I'm doing... I feel bad, and tell her I'm doing ok. I make more of an effort to be nicer... I answer her questions with more than monosyllables and venture a couple of my own. She has to prick my finger 3 times to get enough blood out, and she happily informs me that I'm a 'first'. *sigh*... I'm trying, but I don't know how long I can keep up with the banter... I ask her what my iron level has to be for the procedure and she says "12"... She asks me if I've been anemic before, and I tell her that I have poor eating habits (which I do). What I don't tell her is that this is my 3rd stab at getting the procedure done... I'd tried for the past 2 consecutive weeks at the local 'Planned Parenthood', only to be sent home with instructions to "up my iron levels". I'm nervous and dread hearing those words again, but after glancing at the little machine on the counter, she tells me I'm ok. *sigh*... I head back to the waiting room. I'd told myself that if I was turned away for a third time, I'd keep the baby, regardless of what you'd say or think... *sigh*.

I walk out to more people and more noise. It appears as though people are a little more relaxed and open now. The giggles are coming from all different parts of the room, and about 4 different girls are on their cell phones... 2 of them are crying and talking softly. *sigh*. It's now 10:05AM, and I reach into my purse for my phone as I sit down. "He should be up now", I think to myself... as if the reason you haven't called thus far is because you're sleeping... Nothing. Not one missed call, not one text... I check my call logs anyway; "Maybe I cleared the screen when I was writing Dell back"... no. Nothing. *sigh*. I'm called to the counter to go pay. She glances at my folder and as if to confirm what I'd written on the form, asks me if I'll be awake during the procedure. I assure her that I will be, and as she looks away to the monitor, I can almost swear that I see an odd look pass over her face... It's really quick, and disappears before I can place or read it... When she looks up at me again, her face has been reset to that generic, "I'll help you the best I can" mask that most medical personnel seem to wear. "$425.00 please", and I hand her my card. "Debit or credit?" she asks, and I opt for debit... the sooner it's out of my account the better.

I hear my name again. This time I'm being summoned by a short older woman with dark hair and glasses. She leads me into her office, and based on the many "It's YOUR choice, not theirs" type stickers that adorn her walls, I'm guessing she's the house shrink. Yep. She sits me down and valiantly attempts to replace the bored, bland look on her face with a caring one. She asks me if I'm ok, and I tell her I am. She asks me if there's a reason that I'm choosing to stay awake for the procedure, and I tell her I have to drive myself home. She's about to say something, but stops short when I say this. She reaches into her drawer, and after searching through a ton of papers and files, locates the one she's looking for... "Ok hon, I just want you to read this over and sign it for me, ok?"... I look, and it's a 'Driving against medical orders" form... I don't bother to read it, but sign it anyway. I don't care. She again asks me if I'm ok... I want to scream that I'm not and burst into tears, but I smile and nod my head... I can't speak because there's a painful lump in my throat. She looks at me and leans forward as she prepares to speak... apparently what she's about to say now is of the utmost importance.

I'm advised that during the procedure, I cannot move a muscle. "It's a very delicate procedure, and if you even twitch, things could go terribly wrong", she says 'matter of factly'. She asks if I'm aware that I'll be in pain. I tell her that I've done some reading, and apparently, it's sort of similar to bad period cramps. She shakes her emphatically, and tells me it's much worse. I ask her if anything is numbed at all. "Well, he injects your cervix to numb it", and as I breathe a sigh of relief, she hurries to add; "But that doesn't really do much... You'll feel everything". Well, how about that? I lean back and tell her I think I'll be ok. She looks a little unsure, but I doubt she cares much... I'm just another folder of the very many she's seen and will see... As I leave, I thank her for her tact and sensitivity. The sarcasm is completely lost on her, as she smiles and nods.. "You're welcome, sweetie, good luck".

Finally, it's time. I'm led down the hall and asked to sit on one of the many chairs lining the corridor. The chirpy nurse from earlier asks me if I've been weighed yet, and I tell her I haven't. "Well, come on down!!” she yells, with a big smile on her face. I feel my eyes start to roll, but I stop them in motion and pretend to have something in them. I step on the scale and watch the digital number climb up from zero and stop at 118. "Huh", I think... "I gained weight... cool". (The previous week, I'd come in at a very low -for me- 109). She hands me 2 white, chalky looking pills and asks me to tuck one on either side of my mouth... between my cheeks and gums. I ask her what they taste like and she says "Chalk". Ah well. I'm told that the pills will help my cervix dilate to prepare me for the procedure. She says not to worry if I start spotting or cramping, because it's just the pills working. She shows me into a room in the back and tells me to take everything off. I place my clothes in a little pink basket she's handed me, and put on the hospital gown and cap. I walk into the waiting room, and there's already 6 other girls in it... *sigh*...I feel like a cow in herd of cattle... just another body at the local chop shop.

The TV is on, and 'B.A.P.S' is showing FX. I stare blankly at the screen even as I dully think about how far Halle Berry has come since starring in movies like that... There's a journal on the seat next to me, and I pick it up to look through it. "Ladies, please feel free to write down your thoughts and share your experiences. We welcome all stories!” Huh... I'm touched by the short little stories written. The raw honesty and emotion in the words I'm reading astound me... Here come those tears again. I put the journal down. Against my better judgment, I call your phone... It rings and rings... voicemail. I try again... voicemail. You always have your phone on you, so I know you're probably sitting there watching it ring, and with each ring after the last, my heart aches a little more.

How could you not call? How could you not wonder how things were going? How could you not want to know? What if something had happened? What if I needed you?... there're a million and one 'what ifs'... *sigh*. This pain that I'm feeling is so intense that I feel like my chest actually aches. I want to sob, I want to scream, I want to wail... I don't. After the 5th call, I put the phone back in my purse. I can't bring myself to leave you a message, because 1. I don't know what to say, and 2. I know for sure that I won't make it past the first syllable without breaking down in tears...

Soon, there are 4 of us left sitting there. The Asian girl from earlier, a girl who bears an uncanny resemblance to Cameron Diaz in 'The Mask', a young brunette who's texting on her Razr non stop, and myself. The silence in the room is broken by a loud rendition of 50 cent's 'Window Shopper', coming from the Asian girl's Nextel phone... at least, I think it's a Nextel. "Yo", she says, in that deep voice of hers... I'm used to it now though. "Yeah, I'm still sitting in here waiting yo... I've been waiting since I hit you up that one time"... more indistinct chatter from the other end, then; “For real? Shit, I'm hungry like a motherfucker! I ain't eaten since last night... I'm so hungry, I'm about to chew these motherfucking pills!" She erupts in laughter at this point, and I shut my eyes and lean my head on the wall behind me. I just want to go home... far from this place... far from these people. The conversation goes on for a couple of more minutes, and I swear, she must have said 'fuck' or 'fucking' about 50 times... I don't care... I unwillingly reach for my phone again... nothing. *sigh*.

It's my turn. The nurse comes to get me and leads me to the room next door. Right smack dab in the center of the room, is a table with stirrups... *sigh*. I'm told to rinse my mouth out and lay flat on the table. The nurse straps my legs (from my knees to my ankles) down, and asks me to relax. The door opens, and in walk a guy (who I rightly assume to be the doctor), and the shrink from earlier. "Remember what we talked about honey, ok? You can't move". I nod my head, and look for something to use as my focal point. I decide on the little crack in the ceiling... between the 2 fluorescent lights... "Ok, you're going to feel something going in... it's just the speculum", the shrink says. I figure out at that moment, that she'll be in there with us the whole time... possibly for support? The doctor inserts the speculum and I flinch a little... "Relax hon", says the shrink... He reaches for something else on the cart beside him, and even as I start to wonder what it is, the shrink lady chimes in again. "Ok hon, you're going to feel a little pinch. He's numbing your cervix now." "Shit", I think... the needle. Well, it was a little more than a pinch... I gasp a little, try to keep my body absolutely still, keeping my eyes on the crack. The doctor informs me that I’m doing great, and tells me we're almost done. He's handed a little 'hose like' instrument, and he turns the machine on... It sounds like a vacuum cleaner, and I guess that this is the actual procedure... He's sucking it all out... *sigh*.

Well, the entire procedure has taken all of 7 minutes... Did it hurt? Yes. More than I thought it would and it took every ounce of my will power not to scream or cry. After he's done, he wishes me good luck, and tells me that I was "excellent"... whatever. I'm led into the 'recovery' room, where I'm helped into a comfortable chair, and given a blanket to cover up with. Another nurse walks over with some ginger ale and crackers, and hands me a teeny, tiny little pink pill that she says will shrink my uterus to its usual size. So that's it. I'm done. I sit there for about 30 minutes, watching them wheel in girl after girl. Apparently, I got to walk in because I hadn't been 'put out' for the procedure... I think I was the only one who chose this option.

This blond girl is wheeled in right after me, and I remember walking by her in the hallway earlier. They try to rouse her so she can move from the wheelchair to the other 'chair/bed', but she does not open her eyes. "What's her name again?" asks the nurse in the recovery room and the nurse who has just wheeled her in shrugs and shakes her head... "I think it's Natalie" she offers... Her file is retrieved from some other room, and it's actually 'LaThalia'. "LaThalia?"... "LaThalia!... it's over now, we need you to wake up now, hon"... LaThalia murmurs incoherently and her arms drop to her side. 5 minutes, 2 falls, and 3 nurses later, LaThalia has been transferred from the wheelchair to the bed successfully. One of the nurses is less than thrilled because she's been scratched by LaThalia's long, fake nails. I look at her nails, and notice that they really 'are' long... "How does she wash herself?" I find myself wondering... Don't ask why this thought crossed my mind... I have no clue. I think I was subconsciously filling my mind with irrelevant nonsense to stop myself from thinking about my present situation... I don't know...

LaThalia apparently is not taking deep enough breaths because the nurse glances at her oxygen level and starts to panic a little... "Can someone get the doctor in here please? She's in the 5os". Soon, LaThalia is surrounded by 2 doctors and 4 nurses, all trying desperately to wake her up. There're other patients in the room, so they know to appear calm... Her file is passed around and everyone's asking different questions... "How far along was she?"... "How long has she been unresponsive?"... "Should I get the oxygen tank?"... "Wait, is the oxygen tank full?"... "Who's she here with?"... "Who's her ride?"... It goes on like that for a couple of minutes, and then they decide to hook her up to the oxygen tank and move her to the corner of the room... They'll watch her 'vitals' for a couple of minutes with the oxygen, then go from there... I feel like I'm watching ER, but with doctors who are not throwing around long, complicated medical jargon, and nurses who are not rushing around feverishly with medical equipment and medication... everyone's just sort of ... calm.

Finally, I'm told that I can go put my clothes on, and the minute the bathroom door shuts behind me, I reach into my purse for my phone. 9 missed calls. 'Yes!!". I flip open the phone eagerly, and hit the 'view' button... *sigh*. It's not you. It's my friend Kenni... She's called 9 times, so as I pull my pants on, I call her to find out what she wants. "Thank God!" she screams into the phone... "What’s up?" I ask... I think I was a little curter than I should have been, but I think I can be excused that one time... "Nothing... I just need to talk to you for a bit... remember that guy I told you about? The really sweet one? Well, he's acting weird, and I sort of don’t' know what to do... what do you think I should do?"... I think of all my 'near melt-downs' all day, that was the worst. I literally had to put the phone down for a second to stop myself from screaming. I tell her I can't talk, and I'll have to call her back... then I hang up.

Fully dressed, I head back into the room where I meet with the local nurse/counselor lady. She talks to me about how I'll feel after, and offers me different methods of birth control... I listen, I nod, I leave... I stop at the desk to make a follow up appointment, and head to my car...It's chilly, but not cold... A little breezy. I walk very slowly to my car, open the door, and sink into my seat. Just as I insert the key into the ignition, I lose it. I don't know why that happened at that particular moment, but it does. I just lose it completely. I'm sobbing, I'm crying, I'm wailing... The parking lot is empty, but I don't think I'd have cared if it wasn't. I sit there and cry really hard for 20 minutes, non stop... I cry so hard, I’m panting… Finally, I take a deep breath and pull out of the lot.

The rest of the weekend sort of went by really quickly... didn't do much... Couldn't do much. Tried to read... tried to write... I even started to watch 'Breakfast at Tiffanys'... Not one peep from you all of Saturday... nothing. On Sunday afternoon, you call me freaking out and asking what to do... some email you received has been sent to everyone on your contact list, and you don't know how. You're pissed and you're yelling, and keep asking what I think you should do. When you're done, I very quietly tell you that the abortion went well... "Oh", you say, then nothing else. I ask why you didn't call, and you reply saying you didn't know if I'd want you to. I ask you about not answering my calls, and you tell me you didn't even see them... We both know you're lying. You start again about the email and your contact list, and as an afterthought, ask that I understand that you've got a lot of shit going on right now... You say you have to try to get to the bottom of things, and tell me you'll call me back.... you don't. I call you. It's much later, and you're a lot calmer. You tell me that you're sorry for not calling me, but remind me that I was the one that had told you not to come with me... I ask when you came back to Rhode Island, and you tell me Saturday night... I can't help but mention that you've been home for over 12 hours without one phone call to me.

You point out that you woke up to 'drama', and haven't even gathered your thoughts yet... Neither of us really knows what to say, so after a couple of minutes of awkward conversation, we hang up. I don't do much for the rest of the day. I can't. I ask myself a million and one questions that I can't answer... I'm not pissed at you anymore... at least, not as bad as I was. I have a lot of resentment for you... a heck of a lot, but I think that's it. I don't know how I feel... I mean, I have some idea, but I just can't think of a word to describe the whirlwind of emotions running through me. I don't know that there is a word for it... I don't want to be with you anymore... I know this...You're not good for me... That's obvious to anyone that knows 'us'... I mean, you're still you. Nothing's changed at all. You still have all those bad habits that caused me to move out in the first place... you still have all your issues... your addiction problems... you still lie constantly and incessantly... you're still fickle... you're a pig... everything in your life is pretty much the way as when I left; If anything, you're drinking, smoking, and pill popping more...Those were the things that I couldn’t stand about you, and some of the reasons I left. There are lots more that I’m not even touching on here. I mean, you're 'you'. The same old you ... So why am I so sad? Why do tears well up every time I think about you? Why can't I stop thinking about you?... Is it the 'idea' of you that I miss?... The companionship? The rapport? The friendship?... probably.

I just want out of this funk... once I can shake this funk, I know I'll be ok. I always am. I thought of moving for a whole new fresh start, but as good an idea as it seems, it's just not very practical. There's a child involved here, and his school, doctor, friends, security... they're all in this town... We've lived here forever. Not to mention that finding an apartment as nice as mine, in a neighborhood equally as nice for what I'm paying now is pretty much impossible. It sucks that I can't talk to anyone about how or what I'm feeling... I have no one to vent or cry to, and it's got to be the loneliest feeling in the world. I sit in front of my laptop and write my mind is empty. I feel like I’m going crazy, so I post in on here for others to read… *sigh*... Anything to feel like someone somewhere is listening, and I’m not nuts. I'm taking it a day at a time, but for someone like me who's more into reading and writing than into going out and socializing, the loneliness is a little hard to deal with... *sigh*. I have to stop... I think all my thoughts are down now... I'm sure I'll be ok... I know I’ll get to the point that I need to be soon. It's the 'in-between' time that sucks.