Broken

I’m probably not going to have much time to write in here for the next five weeks. Tomorrow I start an intensive outpatient Dialectical Behavior Therapy course. It’s every Monday through Thursday, from 6:00 p.m. until 9:00 p.m. Given that I start work at 8:00 a.m. and only finish at 5:00 pm., it’s going to be pretty exhausting. I have self-diagnosed as suffering from Borderline Personality Disorder, and DBT is supposed to be really effective for treating that. Even if I don’t have BPD, it would still be good to learn not to, um, smash shit, hit my loved ones and verbally abuse them when I’m stressed or angry. Both my therapist and my psychiatrist think it would be a good idea to do this course. I’m wondering if I’ve made a huge mistake, though, because I have a hard enough time as it is getting through the week without adding twelve-hours of intensive therapy into the mix. Also, I am feeling pretty fine at the moment. But that is always my pattern – I have one huge crisis, where my world feels like it’s ending, and then I coast along just fine until the next crisis. When I’m coasting I never feel like there’s anything wrong with me.

Intensive therapy aside what else have I been up to? Well, I had fun this week with my friends, seeing lots of music. I went out more times this week than I would do in a whole six month period while I was still living with MM. I’m completely sleep-deprived, but it was worth it. I also went out on a date with a cute Chilean-American journalist I met on OKCupid who is very interesting –  tall; handsome; creative; funny; educated; a runner; well-traveled; bi-cultural; bilingual etc etc. He is, in other words, the opposite of RG in most ways and yet…I still long for RG.

Speaking of RG, we have started shagging again. But don’t worry – it’s all good. I’m much calmer this time around. It turns out there actually was something he wanted to invite me to after all. We went to a barbecue last night together, and I was supposed to attend a fashion show he was doing the make-up for today but couldn’t because I had to work. I don’t know what these invitations mean. Honestly, I think I’m done analyzing the shit out of everything. I just don’t have the energy.

I started to look at our “relationship” in a whole new light earlier this week when he responded to one of my booty-call texts by saying “Im a mess dont know if i want you to see me this way”. It wasn’t like I didn’t know he was a raging alcoholic before this text. I knew rationally that he couldn’t be present for me because of his alcoholism but somehow that text brought it all home. I felt quite guilty, to be honest…like I’d been trying to take advantage of a sick person. Because, well, he is a sick person. We stayed up talking all night on Friday (didn’t even shag until much later!) and we didn’t start to go to bed until 8:00 a.m. He actually went off then to buy some cheap and nasty gas station wine so he could get to sleep. At 8:00 a.m! Jesus. What a way to start your day.

I don’t know how it is possible to care for somebody I have only known for a couple of months, but, well, care I do. Of course, there is still a huge part of me that wants him to want me/love me, but I can genuinely say now that I just want him to get better. Not for me, not because I have this fantasy that we’ll fall hopelessly in love if he gets better (although there is a wee bit of that) , but for himself. He’s talking about moving back to Colorado to live with a friend he can start a (legit, non-druggy) business with who’s also a teetotaller. I think this would be a great idea because I don’t know how on earth he can possibly hope to get sober while he sells weed and lives right around the corner from the local bar. When he talks about moving away, there is this little voice inside me that says “No! Don’t leave! No! Not yet!” but I know it’s what he needs to do, and I will encourage him. I just can’t stand to see another human being suffer in front of my eyes. He says he’s hardly ever had sober sex in his life! Wow! I can’t imagine being that cut off from my emotions. He is so broken. He needs to heal.

I feel that something changed in me this week as regards RG. I will continue to long for his attention, his affection, his love, but somehow my lust has changed into something sweeter and more tender…friendship, I guess. I’m not saying that I won’t ever shag him again (hell, I ain’t Jesus) but I just want to treat him well, and not make him the brunt of my love addicted obsession.

This might be weird given how much I’ve bitched about RG in this blog, but send a wee prayer out for him tonight, will you? He’s not an angel, but I hate to see him in this much pain.