Dear Diary,

Wish I knew what to write. Struggled with sleep on Thursday night because Gail and Sandra were here, and we had to get up early. Gail had an appointment and Sandra and I waited for her. Me on three hours of sleep. Which would be okay except Sandra continually mumbles and it makes me a little nuts.

The drive back to Gail's felt like it took forever, and we had to stop at the store, because once we get there we never really leave the house. I realize that Gail spins her stories but that is just it- she paints a different picture than her real life. She tells people how active she is, but most days she stays in the house and doesn't even go outside. She's more like me than she would ever admit!

She's still messing around with Craig, and I pretty much have nothing to say about it. I just don't want to know about him so I don't ask. And I don't want to be in the same room with him if I can help it, so I'm not going to her party next weekend. There are other factors, like I have to work, but there is always the fact that I wish he would just disappear.

Regardless, the weekend was okay, I worked last night and came home... Elliot called and we made a date for Tuesday. I have to have one of those honest conversations with him. Maybe he will be okay just being a make-out buddy or whatever. Maybe that's as far as it can go. I know it won't be good to get involved with him sexually.

If anything came out of the weekend, it was this: Gail was talking to Sandra and mentioned that they both get so caught up in their relationships, that the relationship with themselves suffers. Then they are unhappy and crazy and suffering. I realized I am there too. This has been a whole year where I feel like I have said I was going to work on myself (and my relationship with myself) but I still have spent so much time worrying and thinking about M, STILL.

There's a part of me that wants to kick myself when I realize that. But there's another part of me that says, have compassion, because obviously this is difficult for me. I have lost myself in every relationship I've ever been in. It is a bad habit, and it is not my fault that the habit developed. I never got a clear sense of myself growing up. I never learned that it was okay to be me, or have needs, and ask for things, and that I could actually have what I wanted. So I learned how to focus on other people so they wouldn't leave. Makes sense now.

And even though I could feel like I wasted a whole year, I have to have compassion for myself and realize I have been trying. It is TOTALLY my responsibility and no one else's, me being an adult at this point- and the only way it's going to change is if I change it. And I'm probably doing better than at other times in my life. For instance, when I lost Frank I was totally devastated. I didn't know what to do, and spent a lot of time waiting for him... then I met Alphie, and even though I saw the signs in the beginning that Alphie wasn't really good for me-- he lived too far away, had too many other girlfriends, was self-absorbed... I jumped in anyway. I got all involved with him and didn't really give myself the space to grieve Frank. As a result I'm still angry at Frank and what a mess the whole thing with Alphie turned out to be!

And here now, I had to meet someone I was so totally crazy about, and have my heart completely shattered, so I could see the depths of my own fear about being abandoned... how much I would contort myself to keep that from happening. And it happened anyway. Because I didn't have a good relationship with myself.

But, maybe something has shifted. Because now there is Elliot, and even though parts of him are very attractive, I am looking at him and saying, but it's not really what I want. Of course I want M, but, even so, I think I'm open to the possibility that if some other guy could really knock my socks off, I would go with that. But I'm noticing- he's not knocking my socks off. And I don't want to do the Alphie dance anymore. I see the possibilities of where I might get hurt. I know my limits know. I know what I am and am not capable of. I know I want more, and maybe, I even think I deserve it.

At the same time it's like a drug. I want to call Elliot sometimes when I am feeling lonely because he provides that shot of adoration that I feel I need. A zing of excitement in my boring, depressing life. I feel like I'm dancing on this precipice, like I'm an addict and someone's waving a needle in my face. And I'm talking loudly and saying, "Oh I don't want that, but maybe I'll stand a little closer. I'm totally aware that I can't go there, but maybe if I just lick the end of the needle, that will be all right." Honestly, it's like that whole moth-to-the-flame thing.

So. On one hand I'm getting better but it's not at all easy.

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