War

It's a war between the 'states'. A civil fucking war. Parts of me want to persevere and parts of me want to swallow a bottle of pills and drive my car off the bluff. All covered by insurance, of course. I'm not completely irresponsible - at least not all of me is. These are the crazy emails that went out this morning. I expect no responses from anywhere. It's safer that way.



To New Guy:

I thought things were okay with Old Guy now. And now I have a problem. There has been hypochondria, nightmares (mother) and really bad sleep broken up by intrusive thoughts of death. I've been afraid to get out of bed when I finally wake up for the day/ night/ whatever. Sunday was a blur of dissociation. It was so bad I couldn't drive the car and my husband had to take me to the grocery store. That has not happened in a very long time. The burning in the bad place is back. I realize now that it was today. It was this exact day four years ago when Old Guy was mean to the teenage girl and rejected her for crying and being afraid. I thought things were
okay with him now, but there is the divide. Maybe things with Old Guy are okay for everyone except the teenage girl? I am supposed to talk to him Wednesday and I don't know what to do. I feel very alone and very, very insane. I have been hearing from the teenage girl and from Rambo, too. She is sad and thinks that she should never have told her secret and Rambo is very angry because of what was done to her when she told. He is going on anti-therapy rants again and he is even frustrated with ME because I tried to quit smoking and only lasted for 22 hours and am currently smoking cigarettes and pounding down beers and he's tired of all that stuff. He wants me to buy an exercise machine and a very special dog for the little girl. I can't make myself call the breeder I located and I can't decide on an exercise machine because I can't concentrate on account of all the problems coming from inside. Rambo thinks I should go for walks so I can get used to walking a dog far ahead of time (because he also protects the welfare of animals), but I haven't even tried. And he keeps drawing my thoughts to his weights, which are still gathering dust under my bed and have been for a long time. I know he has been patient, but I still don't feel good. There has been bad intrusive stuff, but I can't remember. I feel like I have failed everyone and no one likes me anymore. I need Rambo to like me. He IS me. Please help me find a way to make sure he is not too disgusted with me. It's curtains for me if he jumps ship. That would be a mess you don't ever want to see. Please help me. I don't know what to do. Nothing quite like this has ever happened before. Unless it has and I just can't remember. I have been profoundly disconnected because I've been trying to live and I can't do that with The Crazy busting out all over the place. I feel like I'm at the end of my rope and I should get in the car and find a suitable cliff like a certain character (and her dissociated 'proxy') in my most recently abandoned novel. Why not? My life insurance would still pay out (I checked) and Rambo would show up and die for me. I know he would. And then... I would finally have quiet.



To Old Guy:

I still largely stand by the last email I sent you (my understanding of our version of some resolution around our old incident), but I need to be very honest right now because lies and concealment will not help me. I have been a terrible mess for the last several days. I've been profoundly alone and disconnected, even too dissociated to drive. Nightmares about my mother, panic attacks, hypochondriasis and lucid suicidal ideation have been waking me from sleep so I can ponder the futility of continuing. And yet... I soldiered on in my 'productive' waking hours because I must live in the present, right? That's right - I dissociated it all until that just can't work anymore and now I just really want to die. It was four years ago today. Four years ago today when that girl came to you so desperate and damaged. She's still here. I don't know what to do. Please help me. Please tell me what to do. Don't leave me to my own devices now. They tell me to die and finally have peace and quiet. They tell me to die and just be done because everyone has to die and I may as well just get it over with; that I can finally have REAL nothingness and the universe will not remember my name(s).



To Everyone Else:

I'm not well.