Another Day...

I turn the shower on and let the water run hotter than a regular shower. It’s been three days since I’ve seen one. I desperately hope that by making it hotter I will finally start to feel something again. A futile thought, I know.

Standing under the water, my face upturned to the stream, the hot tears mix with the hot water until I can’t tell that I’m still crying. Sobs wrack my body and I just stand there, immobile. Numb. That is the best way to describe it. Anesthetized from life. Emotionally this disconnect creates a buffer from my pain that allows me to continue on. And yet, it’s like being in purgatory- a temporary respite from the hell I know is coming.

Frantic, desperate thoughts, like mice scurrying in a dark basement come and go in my head. An overwhelming urge to make it all stop. The soothing sound of the water hitting the tile floor, and the steam surrounding me drown out the noise in my head until the only thing I’m aware of is the sound of my lungs drawing breath in and out. Instinctively I know the tears haven’t stopped but I no longer feel them silently streaming down my face as I lean my forehead against the cool tile.

I shampoo my hair and as I’m rinsing it out I close my eyes and let the stinging hot water wash over me until the water runs warm and then cool as the hot water tank empties. Afterwards, standing in front of the fogged up mirror I stare blankly at the shadowy figure reflected in its surface and wonder silently how much longer I can go on doing this. Where does it end?

Outside My Front Door

The words won't come today, so I'll leave you with something a little less depressing.

A Long Drive Home

The tears streamed silently down my face, my chest heavy with a weight that wasn’t going away easily. I felt like I couldn’t breath and yet the air was still going in and out of my lungs. For the next hour I just let the tears come, as I made the familiar journey from my hometown back to my University town. The outside world matched my inside turmoil, a landscape of swirling fog, grey drizzle and a biting chill that seemed out of place for late spring. As much as I wanted to pull over and just stop, I wanted to get home to hide under the covers of my bed even more. Like a thread drawn taut and then snaps from the force, I felt myself break like that string and my emotions went numb. As the numbness washed over me I felt myself slipping into the familiar and yet dangerous territory that will require medication before I can fight my way out again.

Unfulfilled Craving

For the past two weeks or so I have had the biggest craving for After Eight ice cream. I first tasted it almost 2 years ago and immediately fell in love. Finally an ice cream that is more chocolate than mint! The only problem is that it is next to impossible to find. I have been to two of the local grocery stores several times since the craving has hit with no sign of it. In desperation tonight I even checked out the Nestle website and there's no mention of it! They also create Baci ice cream, which I saw in a store over the weekend, but was not listed on their website either. I'm not sure how much further I'm willing to look. I know there are a couple more grocery stores in town that I have never set foot in, but might be tempted to scout out if this craving doesn't go away soon. However, if I end up looking around the grocery stores in my hometown I know I'm having issues. How would I even transport ice cream an hour and half back to the Uni town without having it melt all over? Would a regular cooler packed with ice suffice?

Spring at Home

I know that winter is really over when the cherry blossoms come out on my parents farm. Unfortunately that's not quite yet. These branches were pruned by my father from the orchard and forced to bloom a little early so that my mother could have them to decorate her table for Easter dinner.

I Think I'm in Trouble

I’ve begun to sleep around 15 hours a day for the past three days and I’m guessing the trend will continue.

I don’t get dressed until very late in the afternoon if at all, and I couldn’t care less.

Showering daily is a tremendous effort and I’m betting that in another few days it won’t happen.

If I remember to brush my teeth once a day I’m doing good.

I have a serious case of the “fuck-its” and just do not care about things I should, like my quarterly Progress Review Meeting with my Master’s committee, or setting up appointments to get into the archives I need to visit in order to finish the research phase of my thesis.

Moments of anxiety, anger and mental agitation are only soothed by brief suicidal ideations.

When not in bed trying to sleep away my time I am watching movies and thinking about what I should make for my next meal, even though the idea is boring.

I only eat because I know that is what I should be doing at that time of the day, not because I particularly care to eat.

Not even several days of sunshine are enough to make me feel normal and even a bit happy.

Depression is insidious.

A Reminder

This was the longest 9 minutes and 7 seconds of my life. The memory is starting to fade, but the terror I felt during that phone call was so palpably real that I never want to go there again. I could not wish that feeling or experience on anyone. Thankfully I'm able to sleep comfortably at night again and I'm not afraid everytime I leave the safety of my house.

I keep this call on my cell phone as a reminder of what happened to me. That it was in fact real, and not imagined.

"...cute as a button."

I have always been described by men as “cute” or by some derivative of the word. As a general rule this has never really bothered me and is more than acceptable. While I’m not denying that I can be very cute and playful, for once I’d like to know what they really think. Just once I’d like to be described as ass-spankably hot. I’d even settle for hot-as-fuck.

I want to know that you just want to grab me, push me up against a wall and have your way with me right there. I want to know that you desire me and want me. I want to know that I drive you crazy. I want to know that I get under your skin. In short I want to know that you care. I’m not asking you to love me; I’m just asking you to be honest with me.

You know what, even if you’re not as forthcoming about the sex and what you want, at least let me know how you feel. Let me know that you like spending time with me. That you want me to stay overnight because our time together is so short and saying good-bye after a few hours just doesn’t cut it. Tell me you think I’m funny and smart. Tell me that you miss me when I’m gone. Tell me that you dream of me, think of me, care about how I feel and what I’m doing.

I tell you.

Pursuer vs. Pursued

There are no more flirty emails. There are no more responses to caring text messages. There are fewer and fewer replies to the emails I send daily. There are no more phone conversations that last well into the night. I’m beginning to feel like I’m an out of sight out of mind girlfriend. I feel like I’m pursuing a reluctant partner and the more I try and connect the more he disconnects from the relationship. The worst came this past weekend when I asked if he wanted to go back to his place to have sex and he rejected me out right without explaining anything, just saying he was pretty tired.

I’m guessing my reaction to his answer was pretty apparent on my face because he asked if I was angry. Of course I had to say no and fake a smile to reassure him, but I said goodnight pretty quickly and walked away before the utter rejection and hurt got the better of me. Rejection in any form is a difficult thing to handle, but being rejected for sex is a hard one for me. As I drove home flashbacks of begging Mr. Intellectual to the point of tears for him to make love to me played in my mind. The confusion, depression and feelings of being ugly and undesirable during those times all seared to the front of my conscious again, overwhelming me.

I see A. once or twice a week if I’m lucky because of the long distance. Our relationship is too new to be experiencing this. I don’t want to be in a relationship anymore if I’m going to be rejected on a regular basis and ignored. I don’t need this. It is exactly why I’m afraid to love. Exactly what makes me think there is something about me that inspires this type of reaction and behaviour. I don’t need to feel like crap because you are incapable of giving me what I need. I need to know that you desire me, miss me, and want to spend time with me. You need to pursue me and stop making me feel like I’m the one unsuccessfully pursuing you and you’re just being nice by agreeing to the things I ask for because it’s easier than telling me to get lost.

Tendering Offers

Today I received my first offer of acceptance into a Ph.D program at a really great University. It was the school I was the most concerned about since they’re tough to get into, however I seemed to have made it through with flying colours.

Not only are they accepting me on the first round of decisions, they’re offering me a pretty generous scholarship to attend their school. To say I’m excited about this news is an understatement since I was quite worried about not getting in anywhere. I now have to wait and see what the two other schools I applied to will offer me before I make any decisions. This is sweet vindication after being passed over on the first round of admissions offers for my Master’s, and then only being offered conditional acceptances on the second round of offers. It was a bit of a blow, but I pulled through and I’ve become reaffirmed in my abilities.

I am actually on my way to becoming Dr. Jane Canuck.