A lot talked about in therapy today. For instance, how it’s coming up on a year since I went to Missouri and how sad that makes me. Not sad, no. Excruciating pain every moment I’m awake is more accurate. I did things wrong and so did other people. And some day I’ll write about it when it doesn’t threaten to tear me in two just from writing it out for the millionth time. Today was spent mostly sleeping, reading, looking at used cars. Doing anything and everything I possibly could to not think about it him. I am hoping to take a trip to Virginia, which is where the United States’ first mental hospital is. The hospital is worth looking into, though I don’t recall what it’s called, I really want to see it. And I’m a real sucker for waterfalls. My parents are protective since Missouri. I needed the break then and it ended up tearing me apart and crushing me and nearly a year later, I’m still not even half of what I once was. I’m back to missing him every day again, wanting to talk to him about everything and realizing that’s not really an option anymore.
The hard part is he’s not dead, and neither am I. We haven’t even said goodbye. So there’s just an energy that I can’t explain.
As I told my therapist this evening when she said “It’s somehow easier when a person dies, like they left you and they didn’t have a choice, not that they rejected you.”
I responded “I wish one of was dead.”
She answered, “I know.”
There was a silence before our conversation went on, but I swear to God, I hope she knows I meant it.