Sunday, December 05, 2004

To Sir with Love

John and I had a lovely weekend. Just lovely. Perfectly fucking lovely. Jesus God, what have I gotten myself into??

Why is it that after spending more than 4 hours with a person I become so disgusted that I can't breathe. Literally, can't breathe. I had a panic attack the other night. I woke up and John was lying in bed beside me and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think, I couldn't see and I couldn't get oxygen into my lungs. Then, when I could muster a very insignificant breath, I wanted to use the energy it afforded me to kick him out of my bed.

I am unsure of whether it is a fear of commitment, or a fear of my personal space being lost. I just know that everything is wonderful until they start hanging around . . .and then all I can think of is "Back AWAY." And then I start to slowly pick them apart in my mind. They're too tall, too short, too thin, too fat, too intelligent, too ignorant, they have freckles, they have a mole on the small of their back just above where I would want to place my hand, they have mother issues, they have children, etc. etc. etc. Even attributes become a liability in my mind.

And by the time this fear and loathing has overwhelmed me, I have led the person into my world and made them believe they are safe. This was by no means my intention. Yet today, as I watched John leave for parts unnamed, I could see that he was concerned something was wrong with me. I alerted him that I was just feeling ill - which was not a lie, I am feeling a bit flu-ish - and everything was fine. And maybe, just maybe, everything is fine. Perhaps the 46 hours and 28 minutes spent with him was the problem. Maybe smaller doses are the answer . . .

But how long can you keep smaller doses? How long before the smaller doses of man drive you to large doses of liquor?

I'm starting to think I'm out of my mind. I became accustomed to telling myself that I just hadn't found "the one". Then I began to believe that I didn't want a "one." Then I espoused that belief. And then, the entrance of John. The one I thought would disprove the belief. Instead, he is quickly falling to the same fate as the masses of those before him.

God save us all.

2 comments:

birdie said...

You have GOT to CALM DOWN.
Did you switch meds? Better yet, could you up your meds? My brother has some Valium from his surgery...

Deep breaths. Be calm. John is a good guy. He is currently 'in like' with you. Leave it alone. Don't think about shit so much. You scare me.

Love you-- even though you did skimp out on book club to hang out with a boy. Loser. :) We're reading Portrait of a Lady next. Can hardly contain my excitement.

Jay said...

Hi Stranger,

1. If you have real panic attacks, you should be on medication. They can be a serious, debilitating problem if not cared for. If you are already on meds, they may not be at the right dose for you.
2. It's okay to like your space. I like my space too. I always had a rule: 3 weeks, and my 'date' would be out on his ass. After 3 weeks they just got too involved. Then I met my future husband, and I slowly had to come out of my comfort zone, bit by bit. We have lived together for over 4 years now, married for 2 and a half, and sometimes I still ask for time alone. And that's okay!
3. It's also okay not to want a 'one'. You don't need a man. Don't force yourself. Just have fun with someone. If things are supposed to get more serious, let them happen slowly, in their own time. It's okay to be picky. If you are willing to dismiss someone over freckles, obviously it wasn't meant to be, so don't worry to much about it.
I hope this was somewhat helpful,
J