It happened again. That Bad-News Bender. Only this one was worse than last Friday's. After only a few drinks (two glasses of wine, a margarita, a vodka and red bull, and a shot of tequila), I was sobbing hysterically, wandering off on my own to call Stephan, falling down, knocking drinks over... After Justin walked me home, I grabbed my keys, my ID, and my check card and walked from Mount Vernon to PowerPlant Live.
That's right. I walked down Guilford Avenue at midnight, shitfaced and crying hysterically.
I'd like to take a minute to vomit quickly in my mouth at the idea of me wandering around Guilford Avenue, under the 83 overpass, past bail bonds and whatever else stood in the dark corners last night, and I'd like to cross my heart with thanks that I was not harmed, hurt, or accosted in any way while I stumbled toward where Stephan was.
So when I got there, he came out to meet me and tried to get me to go home, but I said I'd go to his house, so we walked. And we talked. And then I started screaming at him. I can't remember what I screamed, but I have never screamed like that at anyone in my life. It felt like every little strand of muscle in my body was exploding outward and ripping Stephan apart in the process. That's what I wanted, I think. I wanted to rip him apart with my unhappiness. But he didn't fly apart. He said very calmly "you're screaming at me," and waited for me to regain composure before we kept walking to his place. I have always admired his ability to forgive even my most outrageous antics. Then we went down some side road, and I slapped him twice in the face hoping to wake him up to the damage he was doing.
But he wasn't doing the damage: the damage was me. The damage was what I had done to myself. I am hurting, yes, because he doesn't love me the way I love him, but losing all control of myself, putting myself in harm's way, acting like a toddler in the middle of the street, was not his fault, it was mine. I have to start being accountable for my actions and for my emotions. These are the hardest lessons I've ever had to learn, but like my mother says, I have to learn them, I have to feel this pain in order to grow, and to be the right person for the person who's right for me.
Being with Stephan taught me that I am capable of monogamy, that it is possible for me to only have eyes for one person. It also taught me how to be independent. Sure, those of you who knew us and saw us together would never consider us as independent, but he taught me to make and pursue my own happiness. He taught me about unconditional support, too. Like when my car was towed, and it was his only night of the weekend off, and he still accompanied me to the towing lot to retrieve the car, and he didn't take it personally when I was too angry that night to touch him or hold his hand.
I am desperate for him right now. I'm meeting him on Charles Street at 4:30, so I have a little bit over an hour until I see him, and I'm so anxious I'm shaking. I want to see him so badly, but I know nothing will have changed, and that we are still over, and it will hurt to see him. And so I'm also very scared. I'm terrified, too, that I will be upset tonight sleeping by myself. I can't bear the thought right now, and I'm considering asking him if he'll come over, just to sleep beside me.
I need a hug.
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