I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do this.
I returned from a work event tonight around 10 pm. My Ex-Husband was at my house watching our daughter. He told me she went to bed at 8:45 pm, as he walked out the door. I was annoyed at his luck. I went in to check on her, and she was wide awake. She did not go to bed at 8:45 pm, like he thought. She only pretended to while lying awake, waiting for me.
I am cursed with a late night child.
How I miss 7 pm bedtime. It feels like a dream. I used to have time in the evenings to myself, to write and unwind. This separation and new preschool have ruined all of that. It is a game-changer, for sure and I feel my happiness levels dwindling with each passing evening hour that she is still awake.
I let her move from her bed to mine, hoping that would move things along. Maybe he gave her crack cocaine because that child didn’t end up falling asleep till 11 pm. That is crazy. I joined her around midnight. After I spent an hour taking photos of old photos. It was a simple activity whose sole purpose was to provide a distraction from thinking about David. More specifically, thinking about WHY HE HASN’T REACHED OUT TO ME IN DAYS.
I tried to sleep but my anxiety was revving and along with that, my adorable, precious little one kept coughing intermittently. It was Chinese torture. Imagine every time you are just about to fall asleep, someone barks “HEY!” right in your face.
So I lie there, awake and wondering, “Why has he stopped responding?”
I have an anxious attachment style. I know this. I am aware. I have read the books. I know the symptoms. But this awareness does fuck all to diminish it when I am in the throes.
It is the lack of communication from him that is the worst for me.
Just tell me you don’t want to see me anymore.
Disappearing feels like driving a stake into my abandonment wound.
I can’t do this anymore.
I am not cut out for this job.
Not knowing sucks.
I’ve erased everything that I can. Every text, email, naked photo…
I keep replaying everything in my mind, looking for clues.
Generally there has been a slow pull away, I can see that.
What once was a hot searing attraction complete with nude photos has trickled down to nothing at all
I guess that is a pretty big hint right there.
I can’t stop crying.
I am sitting on the couch at 2 am thinking about David, my ex, and the stupid tattoo artist who seems too nice to fuck.
I am losing momentum to have sex with the tattoo artist.
I feel bad about it.
I feel bad about everything right now .
I hate this anxiety that engulfs me.
I want to let go.
I imagine cutting a cord that connects me to David.
Cut that fucking thing.
Let me go.