A night filled with anxiety. Crying all day. Itching to reach out to Highland Park. I scratched the itch leaving me with scratch marks on my emotional body.
I feel so dumb. Keep trying to love myself through this but getting involved with Highland Park might be one of the more moronic ideas I have ever had.
So what if I am attracted to him physically, mentally, and emotionally? SO. FUCKING. WHAT.
And wait- I am throwing emotionally in there somewhat blithely. The only emotional connection I felt from him is that he has expressed compassion for my situation on occasion, and he rubbed my forehead while I was crying. However, coming from someone as compassionate starved as I am, I can see why those two things may seem like a feast. But they are only crumbs.
Ugh. The tears again.
THERE IS NOTHING HERE with HIGHLAND PARK FOR ME.
KEEP SOME FUCKING DIGNITY FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!
I am yelling at myself.
I can’t even keep my prepositions consistent.
At least, I am going on a run before yoga. I need to run. Fast and hard. I need to breathe deeply. I need to write clear and hard about what hurts.
This stupid fucking polyamorous, open relationship bullshit is hurting me.
What is most ridiculous is the list of people that do love me and are entirely capable of showing me that love. They include a bevy of girlfriends and of course, my daughter. But of course, I can only focus on the love-or lack thereof- emanating from one guy. One stupid guy.
I can let compassion in if I choose to. I can.
OH man. Went for a run. Went to advanced yoga. Saw his wife. Awkwardly hugged her and blurted something stupid out. He sent me some lame casual text hoping I was well. Ugh. I wanted to throw up. The shame was rising. Difficult to concentrate in class. Afterwards came home obsessing about I should respond.
It never ends until I end it.