I was stupid. I was so stupid.
Ever since my divorce in 2001, I had been keeping romantic entanglements a mile away from me. See, I knew what it would do to me as a struggling bipolar--I'd lose sight of what life I'd managed to create for myself and the emotional impact would be catastrophic.
So there I was, chugging along and relatively happy with my life. What happens? I meet a man who seemed to want me just as I was. I was so convinced that I tossed my inhibitions and entered into an intense relationship.
It lasted about three months before the weekend he fell off the face of the earth, nursing his own problems in drink as I found out later. As much as I loved him, I knew I couldn't have his drinking in my life. And then my own life went to pieces.
I remain obsessed both with the man and with the events that tore us apart. He will not speak to me--indeed, he seems to loathe me. Because I know so little of what went on and what's been happening to him since, my mind is locked on the matter.
Well, I knew this would happen, and it did. So in addition I'm kicking myself for not heeding my own advisories. I'd give anything for a chance to go back in time and warn myself--who among us wouldn't?
It's all gotten so sick and twisted in my mind that I don't even know where to start a healing process. I'm sad and glum and the world has gone monochrome. It's all I can do to restrain myself from going to his house and demanding an accounting on the premise that closure might help me.
Oh, right. I'm 38. This kind of relationship stuff is bad enough when you're a teenager...but when you're looking at forty?
Ugh.
Thank you fo letting me vent.
Raven
I know things are bad when everyone starts coming to me for answers.