One Step Forward and Two Steps Back

Friday brought an end to my improved sleeping hours. Apparently I was just coasting on the comfort I borrowed from New Guy and I have nothing of my own. A few days prior to that, I sent him a link to my old blog which was relevant to the issue I'm trying to deal with. He didn't visit it and so I felt abandoned. Like I said, it seems I have nothing of my own. I was having fucked up little flashes Friday, but I managed to keep from losing it until my husband had to go and trigger me by burning up some food in the kitchen. Food and kitchen smells are a terrible trigger for me and that just did me in. But even in the middle of crazy-land, I felt guilty and ashamed for being in the state I was in and I fought with my husband for days until he took back something he said several years ago ("high-maintenance woman"). Then I felt like if it bothered me that much, then maybe it was true. I had one of those awful meltdowns Monday morning. I decided to pour a copious amount of alcohol on the situation. It didn't help. I drank more. A LOT more. It didn't help and the panic kept rising because I was WAY past needing to go to bed and I was afraid to. It was noon by then and I hadn't slept. I almost called someone to try to get some help. I wanted Old Guy. I wanted New Guy. I like them both and wanted either one. I couldn't do it. Somehow it felt like the strong and independent option would be to render myself unconscious as swiftly as possible and that this choice would be better than relying on an actual person. I accidentally overdosed on sleep medication on top of all the alcohol. I realised what I had done only after I had swallowed it. I briefly wondered if there was a chance that I might not wake up. I decided it didn't matter and I went to sleep. I guess some things are worse than death.

p.s. I'm ovulating right now. I won't even get into what kind of insane and triggering shit that usually causes around here. It doesn't matter anyway, right? At least Dick's sausage is ALWAYS encased in latex (it's a germ thing, a semen 'allergy' and not wanting to chance pregnancy at this late date -- it's a three-for-one!!). Besides... it's only normal to fuck your husband even if it takes a trek or two into the unsavory. And even though food and sex are hopelessly mixed up. Pass the beer, eh? Anybody got a doob?