The Monthly Nervous Breakdown

November 4
The crazy is back. To be fair, I may as well have summoned her back into my life this morning. At about 10 a.m., I started flipping back the calendar the way I do this time every month.  If I manage to skip this ritual, would I also be able to dodge my monthly nervous breakdown?

A critical event in this monthly occurrence is the crisis moment about A. The event would not be complete otherwise. I didn't call him as I had promised the day before. But then I remembered about the abortion anniversary and got it into my head that I should see A this week. So I insisted that we see each other.  Then I changed my mind. And then he flirted with me and I felt awful.

A would flirt with anything that breathes.

I called him that night and insisted that we stop talking for a little while. A lot of tears leaked out of my eyes. And I don't know when we might talk again.

But nervous breakdown or not, aborted fetus, broken heart, lost boyfriend, you're going to be alone forever or whatever the fuck it is that kills me at the beginning of every month -- I have to get myself out of this.

A and I are getting ugly and a bit sadomasochistic. I can't even make a joke of it anymore. We are nice to each other all the time, but boy do we like to hurt each other with kind words. He would never admit that.  I told him that the other night, that he hurts me and means to hurt me.  He said if he does, he doesn't mean to.

I wish I could blame only him, but I do it too. Only I am more naked in my meanness.

Jesusfuckingchrist, somewhere out there in the world, there must be something for me. Or maybe there's nothing. But nothing might be better than this strange mean clingy going nowhere thing that A and I have together.

So here's to hoping I can stick to this no talk rule. It doesn't have to be forever, just long enough so that the next time we talk, I don't feel dirty and guilty and sad.

November 6
It's Friday night. Other people are out having a grand old time, aren't they? Me, not so much. I'm on the tail end of my nervous breakdown.  I had a nice day, a horrible afternoon, a teary early evening and now I'm more or less okay.

I'm reading a book called Love Begins in Winter.  It's a bit sentimental but it is fitting -- it's cold and I'm sad. The love that happens to the people in this book seem like minor miracles because the characters are so closed in on themselves.  I am annoyed by this book even though I like it. It's a bit too sentimental. If I ever fall in love again, I hope it doesn't require a minor miracle.   I hope that I am not a hopeless case.

I may be wallowing in bitterness these last few days (actually, MAY is a wimpy word -- I am wallowing in bitterness) but it doesn't mean I have lost all hope about love.  In fact, even at my angriest, there is always some part of me that is thinking, CHOOSE ME! I never know who I am secretly saying that to or maybe I want love to choose me (the good, mutual, has-a-future, fun kind of love, not the unrequited stalk-y sort).

M ignored me on Tuesday night. I was expecting it, but I was shocked when he didn't even say goodbye. We saw each other at a work event. My shrink thinks he likes me and there's part of me that agrees, but the other night, he looked at me with what I read to be disgust.  Ouch.  I don't get it. Maybe I screwed up more than I thought that night of the conversation.  I wish someone had heard that exchange and would tell me what wrong.

My big plan tonight was to go to the MET to look at the Vermeers. But then I pictured myself freaking out in front of those paintings and I decided to wait it out. Maybe next week.

There was a cocktail party option. And again, I said no.

So here I am.