#2

Dear Diary,

I'm at Gail's new house, I came here instead of going to the party. I did get up the nerve to call Pandora, and luckily she didn't answer, so that made it easier. She did call me back later, I let it go to voicemail and truthfully she didn't sound that upset about me not being able to come. I guess she is in a "full" kind of place and maybe doesn't need me so much, which is fine with me.

Gail's house is really beautiful. We talked and made shrimp and salad for dinner, then watched a movie... but now I am sleepless at her place once again.

And I'm amazed that I was just lying here thinking of M. I'm surprised that there is still heartache there- not as much as before, of course- but something still there. A deep sadness, a sense of non-closure, and still a little shock at the fact that things have turned out like they did. That M has truly disappeared- he is unfindable... one day he was at my house being my boyfriend, and next minute he was driving away to become just a voice on the phone, and then- nothing. I don't know where he is. He has no FB page that I know of- he probably wouldn't use his real name. He didn't return my phone call. He didn't return my stuff. The whole thing is just... bizarre. And you know it's the exact right thing to trigger all my low self esteem and abandonment issues. Somebody to love, they leave, promising to be friends but then they disappear altogether, with no response. That is the part that always hurts me the most, the NO RESPONSE. It just seems to be the perfect recipe for my own personal heartbreak.

Anyhow, sometimes I have these flashes that I am more fucked up than even I realize. I have been aware of a very dramatic part of me that wanted to say, "Oh yes, I had a very bad childhood," and get some kind of points for that. But there is another part of me that when I look at myself I am almost in shock. The fact that I'm as old as I am and I have never been in a relationship that's lasted longer than two years- the fact that I CAN'T CREATE INTIMACY WITH PEOPLE. The fact that I hold so much emotion buried beneath the surface, I have so much grief that has been flowing for years, so much hurt, pain and anger. When I look from that place I get afraid because I have the realization that I might be one of "those" people- those people who were truly abused and therefore are truly fucked up- and the weird thing about it is that I don't really judge those people but obviously I would judge MYSELF as one of them. Like what would it mean about me? It would mean that it truly was that bad and it would mean that I was terrified every day of my young life and it would mean it was so overwhelming that I couldn't even process it so I had to make a decision not to be one of "those" and build up some walls and carry on and prefend that I was someone different than who I was and I was stronger than I was and more capable... and maybe, just maybe, it would mean that my greatest fear was true- that I was indeed unloveable.

Every now and then I stumble upon a memory that is like a doorway, a portal into the depths of my grief. The memory is simple, like the time my mother didn't help me with a school project meant to be a mother/daughter thing- because she was just not very good at paying attention to me, so I didn't get any points for the project and I
was so confused because no one had explained what I was supposed to do (that was the mother's job) and I think I grew up thinking there was something really wrong with me because I didn't understand things- in my child mind I was just assuming these things came naturally to other kids. And there is a lot of grief about this because I think it happened a lot. I have this one memory, but the memory is like a symbol of a very deep and painful confusion that permeated my life.

No wonder I eat so much sugar. Just writing about this makes me want to eat a whole bag of peanut butter cups!

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