mercredi, juillet 27

belly knots

i'm a worrier. dude - i get my worry on more frequently than an egg gets laid. i twist my stomach into knots, throw up whatever is in my belly, and pull my hair out strand by strand.

i'm like an ad campaign for obsessive compulsives: "OCD! Not Just for Handwashing Anymore!"

i'll get an idea in my head and work it over until i come up with the worst possible outcome, then get that thought planted in my brain where it takes root and grows up into full fledged paranoia.

yup, i worry.

this evening The Worry has to do with The New Boy. i called his mobile - a tinny voice told me that the line was temporarily unavailable. (commence jaw clenching, tummy roiling worry beads of sweat running through my system).

now, the new boy's phone is with Bell Mobility. he's had nothing but problems. frequently he gets phone messages four or five days after they were left. it's just something we've all learned to accept. rationally, i know it's a line thing, or something completely normal.

irrationally, i think to myself "he's changed his number so i couldn't call". this makes no sense because a)he's not really like that and b)we were speaking this afternoon making beachblanket bingo plans for tomorrow evening. it is, however, something that my Crazy Exboyfriend would do - you know, make plans with me then change his phone number. then call me two days later and get mad at me for being upset.

or, he'd just leave the bed in the middle of the night - saying he had to get some air - and disappear till the middle of the next day. again, he'd be mad at me for being upset.

or, he'd just stop accepting my phone calls for a few days, then call me and tell me that i was a dirty slut, based upon some imagined slight i'd visited upon him. he'd then proceed to verbally abuse me for a few moments, then hang up. he'd call back, repeat himself, i'd hang up. he'd call back - wash, rinse, repeat. then he'd show up at my house and tell me he loved me and he was sorry.

so anyway, i worry. and i get a little obsessive. i try not to, but sometimes it's hard.

and not hard in a good way.