I’m so stupid I ended up in the ER

Is it wrong to want him back in my arms?

Is it wrong to want to sleep with him on last time so I can get the bad taste of the last THREE times I tried to have sex with him?

Is it wrong of me that I would simply enjoy being a BFWB with him where I’d never ever do it before or since?

Is it wrong that I simply want to lay curled next to him because he made me feel safe? Even if he wasn’t… there half the time, I enjoyed knowing I was trusted.

Is it wrong to want this and know I’ve got a damned snowballs chance in Hell for it?

The girs at work just want me to go out and be happy and have sex with some stranger… and I hyperventaliate.

Hell, thinking about sex with someone OTHER than Joe makes me hyperventiate… seriously. I doubt I could trust someone else with something that requires so much trust… but then again, my trust really means nothing in the long run. Everyone always throws it back in my face…

Same with my faith in the person. I have faith in them, and they throw it back in my face.

I make promises, and damnit to hell, I try to keep those promises.

Why do I want to cry, over two weeks after this… horrendus letter… that I still want him back, knowing with dead certiantly, I’ll be dead before that happens? That he doesn’t want me back like that?

It still hurts so damned much I was worth a piece of plastic… That… I dobut I’ll ever forgive him for.

Not for falling out of love with me. I can understand that he doesn’t want me as his life partner anymore…. I’m not worth that to anyone, really. They’ve always used me.

I just placed so much into him… so much love and trust and honesty… and I wasn’t the easiest person to deal with. I’ll be the first to admit that…

But… why not talk to me?

If I really was loved by him.. shouldn’t he have trusted me with his thoughts? Did my constant ‘you know you can talk to me, Joe’ statments mean nothing?

I wasn’t trusted by him. I wasn’t trusted enough with my own life to have a say in it. He made that decision for me and even now it hurts so much, and I simply want to hitchhike over there and sit him down and TALK to him… which won’t happen. I’m not even sure he’d open his door for me… and that thought really stings.

He doesn’t want to see me.. and that makes me really sad. I’d love to see him. To actually see in his eyes if he’s happy with his choice… but that will never happen… he doesn’t want to see me.

I don’t want to go to the renesance festival. It’s normally my fall staple… but if Joe’s not with me.. I don’t really want to go. He, whether he realized it or not, made my day fun.

Anyway, I ended up in the hospital friday for anxiety and stress. I thought I was having a heart attack because my jaws had the weirdes pain in joints. It really hurt and was really weird… and then my fingers started to go numb, as well as portions of my feet. my whole left arm felt heavy and my chest was really hurting and bothering me…

Finally I asked mom, after being berated for not going to the doctor for it, if I should go to the ER. I was that scared to ask… and she asks Dad… After I had already SAID what i felt like, he asks me again, and I didn’t scream at him. I didn’t yell at him, but I whined it.

He looked at me and said to never ever scream at him again, or else.

I started crying, hypereventaliating, and said ‘you really are a jackass thank you for making me feel even more like worthless shit.’

And went to my room in hysterics.

Evidently, my mother chewed his ass in damned good fashion, because he came back, smacked my leg (on my knee no less) and made me get dressed.

Ended up at the new hospital across from where my brother works, and do you know my bastard of a father refused to leave the room while I had to put on my hospital gown?

I had to sit there, and watch as he turned his face and no one made the old goat leave.

My god… I was so humiliated… I mean, how hard would it be for him to stand up and walk outside for all of five goddamned seconds? I still am so humiliated by that. He didn’t even try to help knowing how badly I was shaking and shuddering.

God, I’m crying now about that… that my dad didn’t have the goddamn common decency to get the fuck out of his 28 year old daughter’s ER room. It hurts so much more than what Joe did to me after eight years.

Anyway, I got an EKG and an Xray, then the nice lady who helped me with my gown gave me some ativan. By the time the doctor came back I was feeling like I had drunk waaay too much. Made me feel really drowsy and drunk.

He gave me a script for an antianxiety med and something for the pulled chest wall… and sent me on my merry way…

Back in the car with my father.

He got pissy when he said I probably didn’t have any money on me so I shouldn’t get my perscriptions because HE was going to have to pay for them.

This is after knowing anxiety and stress was the cause for my 140+ heart rate and 148/128 blood pressure. *dryly* I have a nice dad, don’t I?

I finally, being the meek creature I am, said I really probably should get the chest wall medication tonight, and he got pissy AGAIN about the money.

I finally yelled at him and said ‘You don’t think I’m scared about how much it costs? I’m the one who just spent two hours in a hopsital ER because I’m a fucking moron! That’s my bill that you won’t help me on. I need my medication.’

We ended up at wal-greens and I nearly killed myself because I’m walking… and it looks like I’m drunk. I fell down once and I told the lady I wasn’t drunk, but I really felt like it with the medication I was given. She smiled and said she’s down the road from a hospital, so she’s got low expectations. She made me feel better about feeling like I’m drunk.

So my perscriptions were less than $5. The pharmicist asked if we had any questions and I said, in all sincerty, ‘are you sure that’s the right price? ’cause if it is, I want to know what truck is going to hit me.’

Needless to say, he didn’t find it that funny.

SO! I’ve figured out that I need to talk to the doctor about anxiety meds because I get really wound up, and then take the medication and I’m pretty mellow and agreeable… but after the 8 hours… I end up getting really tense and aggitated again.

So I think I need to take them… possibly long term.

I was talking to one of the managers who went through a really horrible break up (And she’s one of the sweetest managers there) and she put her arm around me and said ‘sweetheart, there’s no shame in taking the medication. The doctor knew what he was doing, so trust him in that decision. It’s what you need because you’re getting really strung out right now. I know. I can see it, Cathy. So take them if it’s going to make you feel better, you ninny.’

I knew I loved that lady for a reason. She’s the only reason I work on Tuesdays. When she’s gone from the manager shift, I don’t know what I’m going to do with that mod-shift. I’ll be lost without her kindness… and I won’t get out of work until 11 freakin’ PM. On a night we close at 9.

SO! I think I need to make an appt with my regular doctor to talk about my anxiety and stress issues… and I’m scared to do it. I a

lready think I’m a nutjob… just add one more think to my book of problems.

On the bright side, I finally went off on my mother.

She was so angry that I was still talking to Joe… I can’t… just stop. I tried and I get really upset. Anyway, she slams my face, verbaly, into my paperwork from the hospital, and says I’m suposed to stay away from the cause of my stress, which was Joe.

I said no, it wasn’t. It actually makes me… happy… to talk to him and know I’m not forgotten. I said SHE was part of my stress problem. Because she, like everyone else I seemingly talk to, tell me what the fuck to think and do and feel… and that’s what wound me up in the hospital because I’d try to correct them and make them LISTEN and not HEAR.

The art of LISTENING is a dead art… no one really practices it because it always comes back to THEM and what THEY went through and that I need to just stop doing everything I’ve been doing these past 8 years with him.

Like the receptionist in the salon said: Anytime someone says ‘You Should’, you should NOT listen.

Ed said: Why does my advice work for every one but me? And I want it so damned much…

I told him my advice never works for me either, so don’t feel bad. It’s the way the system works.

So, I’ll make an appt with the doctor to talk about my anxiety/stress issues… and the only thing I CANT change is my home life. I’m stuck here now, seemingly forever.

I just wish I could just go over there and see him. *sighs* Get some break from this psycho blame me world that I’ve fallen into.