June 3rd

Sunday

Last night S broke up with me.

I cried harder than I had in years. I felt sorry for myself. I kept thinking, "First I miss Samantha and Nick's wedding because of my illness, then I have a horrible time at my college graduation the day after, then my birthday dinner is a bust, then I get stuck in a mental hospital for three days, now S is breaking up with me because he's realized he's not in love with me anymore. Hadn't I suffered enough?" Apparently not. Apparently I'm meant to suffer to the point of insanity-- whoops, already did that. Apparently I'm meant to suffer, period.

After crying, screaming, and calling Nick to talk to S, I calmed down somewhat. My nose was so stuffed up I could barely breathe. I called S and arranged a meeting. He seeemed to have softened a little after I'd expressed to how I'd changed since the hospital.

We met, talked and fooled around a little. I was incredibly relieved to be with him, in his arms, kissing, being together and not screaming. A warm sense of normalcy overcame me, so much that I didn't mind him touching my stomch (a lot!) or handling my vagina in a way I always cringed at before. Still, in the back of my head, especialy on the car ride home, I was unsettled. I had a feeling of deja vu-- hadn't this happened before? Two years ago, he's done the same thing-- broken up with me out of the blue, explained that something had been bothering him for a long time about me, had me come over to meet after begging for a second chance, and getting back together. The same thing seemed to be happening again.

We're "taking it slow" now, whatever the hell that means. I admit it's nice to be well enough to be able to articulate all this without having a panic attack. It's good to be well.

Anyway, I love S, more than anything, but I feel as if my self respect is being compromised. Let's see where this goes.