Escape my reality


I’m fighting the complete sinking. I feel the weights pulling me down like an anchor. Today was a day that I really missed my xanax. I did not sleep at all last night. Taking double the tylenol pm last night after drinking booze didn’t work. It made my eyes unable to open but I couldn’t sleep. My body was jerking and jittery, I felt awful. 
I gave him space but prayed he would message me and pour out his soul, even if only offering me a sip. This morning I took my daughter’s car in for an oil change, and danced naked while getting ready, singing my heart out. I felt normal for a brief moment. Then I came home and found that fucking anchor wrapped it’s rope around me like a snake tightening it’s grip to squeeze my chest and down.I.went. I wanted xanax so fucking bad. I debated trying to take a small handful of benedryl hoping for a similar effect, I just wanted to sleep through the emotions. That’s what I used to use my xanax for. Take one to numb the pain, drift away into dreamland. An escape from my reality for just a few hours. 

I am a vivid dreamer, my own paramount studios theater in my head. I can visit my dad, sitting on a cliff at the edge of the ocean, waves crashing while we talk about my memories, filling him in on my kids, my mom and my sister. I can go back to happy times of my life, see my kids when they were little, or when my mom and dad were together and we were just having a Sunday breakfast. It’s a get away, a way to live when I’m unable to function in my real world. 
Last night I thought of the naps I took on the couch when he was here. He came into my life at a time I was just barely going through the motions. Depression had a tight grip on my world. He watched me with a sparkle in his eyes, no matter what I did and it had been so long since someone looked at me like that. I could be watching tv, talking to his kids, or taking a nap and he couldn’t take his eyes off me and he smiled with glee. He was so happy just being in my presence. He adored me and god that felt good. He would gently caress my body in a way no one had ever done, like he wanted to take his time learning every curve of my body. 
In the bedroom he was in charge and I needed that, it was a good balance and fuck it turned me on. I was the head bitch in charge everywhere else, but in the bedroom he was the fire to soothe my soul. I’ve never been the person to initiate sex, not in any of my relationships. I never had to or knew how, I’m not really sure. But with him it was different. It wasn’t “let me get a piece” it was “I need to learn her desires”. It was magical and beautiful and became my drug, my natural antidepressant. But once the newness wore off, he was not this strong powerful man in charge wanting to become everything I never knew I wanted. His need to please me wasn’t there anymore, and honestly that’s what reeled me in. I loved the way he loved me. When that was gone I became depressed and withdrawn. Uninterested in routine sex. I wanted to melt in his fire, but his flames had turned into just hot coals.  His insecurities grew and I grew cold, unaware what I did to cause it or how to fix it. Maybe I’m not as amazing as he said, my insecurities flourished. I became unhappy with everything again. Maybe that’s what caused him to sink. Maybe I was not good for him at all.

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