I tried

I tried to move on. I went on a date. My first date since Tye Dye ad I split up. Nothing about it was right. He was nice, I enjoyed his company, but it wasn't right. I didn't feel right being there. I didn't feel like our personalities fit together. I had a conversation with my boss who is going through a break up herself. She flat out said, 'the more that I date the more that I realize they aren't (my other)'. It is nothing against these other people, but they just aren't the ones that still have our hearts. Now I'm conflicted whether or not to tell him about my ex. If I let the subject lie I feel like I'd be leading him on. I'm more damaged than he might want to deal with ad it's not fair. But maybe he wants nothing serious at all and I'm thinking more highly of myself than he does. I'm just not sure.

And on another different note. I've decided that I'm taking control over my healthcare. Well, kinda. I've decided that I'm not doing anymore tests that I don't feel like doing. If my skin disease has gone internal there is nothing that can be done for it that they aren't already doing to me/for me. So what's the point in worrying myself or in spending money I really don't have? So I'm supposed to get a ct scan and a pulmonary function test, but I say nay. I won't do it. Will my doctor be mad? Probably. Will other people be upset and not understand me? Absolutely. But this is my way of regaining my control over life. Is this in response to my uncontrollable love life? Perhaps. But whatever the reasons, I feel really good about my decision. I feel like I don't need to make myself or let myself worry about things I have no control over, and that's a really nice change from the way things have been.

So I'm reasserting my control over my life, and if I can't control my life, at least I can control how I feel about my life.

The continuing adventures of hurry up and wait

I'm in a constant space of waiting. And I've willingly put myself here. I saw Tye Dye last week in order to pick up some things that I had left at his apartment. Seeing him was really good at the same time that it was awful to heart wrenching proportions. We were nice, we asked how we were doing and we were more than civil to each other. But then he told me he was doing his best to get better, and I told him I missed him and he told me he missed me and loved me too. It isn't fair, to either of us. He wants to love me. He still cares about me, but there is something inside of his brain that won't allow him to. This depression monster has taken him away from me. I think it's almost worse without the finality of this break up. I'm waiting for him to get better because he still has my heart. I want nothing more than to be there for him, but that doesn't seem possible. I even want to say that in my heart of hearts I know he will get better, and that he'll come running back to me with arms wide open. But what if that's months from now? What if it's years? What if it never happens? My faith tells me that if I pray hard enough I'll find answers and that he can find healing, but what if it's not enough? When we were done talking I left and tried my damnedest not to cry on the walk to the car. I didn't quite make it and when I got in and closed the door I sobbed. I cried harder than I have in a long time. I cried for me, I cried for him, I cried for the 'us' that was lost. I cried because life is unfair, and I cried for the emptiness I feel without him. Later I sent him a text because I knew I had to ask but hadn't had the courage to do it in person. I asked him if he ever saw us getting back together he was completely honest. "Depends of if I can get better." A completely honest and real answer. It's what I asked for, and what I wanted. But it makes me wonder if I have given myself too much hope for our eventual future. At this point there are too many unknowns. I cannot reach a verdict. There are only so many options. Wait. Move forward. Run away. Leave. Stay. Wish. Hope. Yearn. Hurt. Never have I ever wished my life were a novel or a movie more than right now. I could skip ahead a half hour or a hundred pages and know how it ends up and then I could be content here, or at least know which way to turn. But I think I'll handle this the way that I handled getting lost in Walmart when I was six: run around for twenty minutes screaming for my mom, and then sit down and cry until someone who can help me comes along, and tells me where I can find her.