I am at a cozy coffee shop in Denver.
It is 16 degrees fahrenheit outside (-8 to my Canadian friends. I think.)
To my right is a very hipstery woman talking loudly on the phone with her dad. She is asking for what appears to be a substantial loan.
"But I have learned my lesson, daddy. Just the stress of asking makes me never want to do this again. Right now, I just need my father."
To my left, is either a business meeting or a therapy session. It seems to kind of go back and forth between bold exclamations of feelings and discussing something about inventory.
I am listening to Radiohead's Kid A.
I have just stirred a hefty tablespoon of cannabis infused coconut oil into my coffee. By the time the bowl I smoked in the car wears off, I will be both highly caffeinated and highly high.
This is how I get through the day.
This is going to be a long post. I am just telling you now.
I hurried myself to this coffee shop this morning to make sure I was on time for a date that I already knew was going to stand me up.
She had not responded to my text suggesting which coffee shop we go to which I sent yesterday afternoon and also has not responded to my "still on for today?" text from earlier this morning.
Nevertheless, I showed. Looking damn pretty and smelling nice.
But I brought my computer, because I knew she wasn't going to show.
I met her in the mental hospital. My friends make jokes about how it's clearly a horrible idea to date someone from a mental hospital. I never remind them that I was in there myself. I have that red flag on my chest too.
She is like Disney Princess beautiful. She has those big green eyes and wide smile. Her hair is short now, but until recently it was long golden ringlets.
When I met her she was wearing scrubs and a long sweater, all a size or two too big for her. No makeup. Seemingly breathing in the freedom of not having to care about appearance.
At first, I thought she was a nurse. The way she introduced herself and was so smiling and caring of the other patients made her stand apart. I watched her that whole first morning. It had been months since I had witnessed in person real human kindness and connection. She was infectious. I noticed how several people kind of just flocked around her, knowing that she would listen to them and take them seriously and console and reassure them.
I too quickly became one of her disciples.
And I did notice that she seemed to gravitate towards me some too. She is a doctor in neuroscience and has a similar background to me religiously, so we quickly found we were able to talk about a lot. And we have the same sense of humor. There were times in the hospital where she had me literally crying with laughter. To feel real joy pierce through the dense layer of shit that is my depression felt better than anything.
She got discharged the day before me. She slipped me her number and said "please call, let's get coffee or something." I thought I could detect the hint of a blush, but I could not be sure. I gave her my number and said "yes, please. And soon." She smiled and nodded in this adorably shy way.
And when I got out, she had already texted.
My smile could only be described as goofy. She made me feel so good and we hadn't even touched.
And I needed that smile. The person I had been staying with had apparently been yelling at my friends while I was in the hospital to come and get my stuff out of his house.
I did not know that when I arrived back at his house. My phone was dead and I had left the charger there (not knowing I would be going to the hospital the day I did).
He gave me a big hug and told me how happy he was that I was safe. I told him that I was sorry I was a few days late getting my stuff out but that I had told some friends to let him know what was going on (I couldn't get his number because my phone was dead), but that I would have my stuff out first thing in the morning.
He was all smiles and assurances. No worries, man. Just glad you're safe.
But then I turned my phone on and saw the mountains of texts and drug fueled voicemails that he had left me.
"I know it's real shitty that you tried to kill yourself and all, and I am sorry about that, but you said you'd have your stuff out by the 28th and I am about to throw all your fucking shit out on to the street."
Cool.
But then I saw the texts from Liz. We made plans to see each other the next day.
That literally got me through my last scary night at that very scary house.
The next day she was radiant. Very much dolled up (is that cleavage intended for me?), but more than that, she was her charming, intelligent, caring, supportive self. It was that feeling of standing by a fire after being in the cold. Warmth spreads over you like you're melting.
We left each other with a big hug (sadly nothing more. I was desperate to kiss her, but still too shy and unsure).
I left her to drive to Arizona to see my family. We texted back and forth that whole drive. At one point we discovered we were listening to the same song.
She said she liked that. It made it feel like we were in the same room.
I suggested we do that intentionally while I am away. Listen to the same songs.
Within a half hour, she had created a playlist of 80 songs specifically chosen for me.
By the next morning, I had chosen my 80.
We alternated days, one day both of us listening to her playlist, the next day listening to mine.
Her music was so seductive and sultry.
She sent me pictures of lingerie she owns.
I told her how badly I want to kiss her.
She told me how she fantasized about me in the hospital.
I told her I did the same.
For the entire time I was in Arizona our texts were frequent and sensual and loving and romantic and sweet.
She called me sweetness and honey and dear one.
She told me how badly she wanted me.
The last time I have been kissed or touched in any sort of intimate capacity was in July. A brief but lovely night in Kentucky with a smart and wonderful person that I am very fond of.
I did have a "girlfriend" from the end of October to early December. But we never met in person.
We had phone sex a lot, but it was almost entirely about her. Something I was fine with for the most part.
But my body realized much sooner than my mind did that the entire relationship was about her and that she had no regard for my boundaries, needs, or feelings. So it went ahead and shut my dick down.
I broke up with her in December, but she still called or texted me every day for the following two months. Telling me how we were meant to be and how she loved me and why can't I just let her love me.
When are we getting back together?
Every conversation was always a deeply emotional slog about her insecurities or fear of abandonment or whether I still find her as desirable as I did when we first "met" three weeks prior.
Even the day that I checked myself into the hospital, she called to tell me how good this would be for our relationship.
I eventually would have to block her number.
So here I am. Deeply terrified of relationships.
Way more now than ever.
Jesus.
I finally learned how to assert myself there, but that was a real battle. Are all relationships like this? All of mine have been.
I keep hoping against hope that I will one day find someone that is just kind and supportive and who won't shame me for wanting sex and who appreciates individual space and boundaries and actually makes me feel better about being alive.
Every time I have attempted to kill myself I was in a relationship.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
That's a revelation so new to me that I typed it and then had to think if that was true.
It is.
Not to say all relationships made me want to kill myself.
But the people I feel safe with always leave.
Usually because I am the one clinging in those cases, ever so worried that this one good thing I have finally found is going to leave before I can even let myself sink into it.
That worry drives them away.
Cruel irony.
What a great design us humans are.
And when I get myself into a place where I am comfortable in my skin (a huge and rare feat) and have a little confidence and think I could do with a partner and companion and touch—God, I cannot tell you how much I miss physical touch. My trauma makes it hard for me to be touched. I usually tense up at first. I definitely don't know how to touch anyone. But when I feel safe with someone and they touch me, just gently stroke my arm, it actually relieves my chronic pain more than any other drug—anyway, there are times when I think I am capable of that sort of relationship.
And Liz seemed like maybe that sort of person. Even if it wasn't a long relationship, she seemed like a safe person that actually wanted to be held in my arms just as badly as I wanted to hold her.
My whole body was aching to see her when I got back.
But the closer I got back to Denver, the more distant she became.
She still calls me honey and sweetheart and handsome. She tells me she is working on a second playlist. She tells me she can't wait to see me.
But she has canceled or not shown for 5 of our last 6 attempts to get together.
I will usually get a text from her in the morning, to which I will respond.
If I am lucky, I will get another text from her that night.
And that's it.
I know she's busy and perhaps a bit disorganized.
She might still actually be interested in me.
But my body knows before my brain.
My muscles are returning back to their constant tension. Furious at me for the promise my hopes had made.
I was going to be touched. I was going to be kissed. My hands and fingers and mouth and body were going to connect to another.
I was going to maybe feel something other than either total numbness or total dread.
But she was supposed to be here three hours ago.
But I only have nine days left at the place I am staying.
But I don't know where I will go after that or how I will find food or survive.
But I don't know if this will ever stop or if these damn pills or these fucking drugs will ever quiet the loud disorder and terror in my brain.
But I don't know when or if I will be touched again.
Let alone safely loved.
Let alone less detached and isolated and adrift in this vast and cold and beautiful and scary world.
The pain I am feeling now is crippling.
11:08 a.m. - 2019-02-19
Recent entries:
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