Tomorrow is the last day it can be like this, though. Girl Agent leaves this weekend for Uganda, and I will be doing the phones for her for the next two months. I am hoping against hope that being forced to be awake during business hours and having to interact with other people will help me snap out of this depression that I am currently wallowing in. I can feel Bf's frustration and misery as he watches me helplessly - he cannot understand what is happening here! For him, it is a state of mind, one that can and should be snapped out of through will power alone. I wish he was right. I still take my meds every day and am therefore rarely suicidal, though last night was the first time I have felt so defeated in a long time that I just wanted to give up.
We went to Chuck E. Cheese together, Bf, Baby and I. I initially didn't want to go, so frustrated by Baby Momma'a actions and feeling like a fool every time I did something for the daughter of the woman that hates me so fucking much. BF convinced me to come though, and I did end up having a good time. Baby is getting old enough now to want to play with other children, and it's hilarious to watch her run around with the other kids. Some of them are bossy, some of them are as uncertain as she is, but she's always willing to share with them and she's so proud of her new friends. So the night was going well, until Bf told me that he had arranged for us to meet Baby Momma at the mall to drop off Baby.
I spazzed. "When we were leaving, I asked you if I should drive my car!" I cried as soon as he told me. "I told you I didn't want to see her!"
"I know, that's why I told her to meet us at Chapters," he said beseechingly. "That way you can look around for books while I meet with her to give her Baby. I thought I did well, baby, Chapters is your favorite store."
I stared at him for a moment, uncertain of what to do. Should I pull a Baby Momma and demand that my needs be met, or else? Or should I try to just let it go, even though the sheer terror of having to interact with her renders me near-suicidal? And, just a thought...WHY THE FUCK DOES SHE HAVE THIS EFFECT ON ME?!?!?!?!
"Please, baby?"Bf said, and grabbed my hand across the Chuck E Cheese tabletop. "I'll even buy you a booooook." He wiggled his eyebrows up and down, and I giggled my assent. I wanted so badly to just ONCE be the one to wipe the look of stress of his face, instead of always being the asshole who put it there.
Bf still looked stressed and worried, so I told him a couple of times that it was okay. I honestly thought that I could just will it to be that way, by sheer cowardice alone. I would just hide in the mall or something while they met up, and then I could come out and get my lovely new book.
We got Baby her prizes from the Total Rip Off Points Desk, then gathered up our stuff and headed for the car. As we walked, I tried to work out in my head how I could make absolutely sure that I did not have to see her. But in every scenario I imagined, she somehow found a way to come crashing in anyway, and start tearing me down, limb from limb. By the time we were halfway to the mall, I had worked myself up into such a lather that tears started to spill down my cheeks. Boyfriend noticed and in a sort of stunned stupor asked me if I was alright. I felt stupid and so small, allowing one bully to terrify me so badly, but the closer we got, the more anxious and hysterical I became.
We pulled into the parking lot behind the mall, and I scanned the other cars and people desperately. "Where exactly are you meeting her?" I gasped to Bf as he drove past the first entrance.
"Uh, Chap. Ters," he said for the slow and dumb amongst us (me).
"Let me out!" I cried suddenly, and opened the car door before he could even come to a complete stop. 'Chapters' was way to abstract a concept for me - if it couldn't be narrowed down any more than that, then I was sure to run into her. "Call me when she leaves and I'll come in," I said, and slammed the car door before he could reply. And in a completely incomprehensible panic, I ran across the street to the back side of the mall.
Beside the high stairs leading up to the movie theatres, there was an equally high set of steps bordered by a four foot wall on the one side, and the wall of the building on the other. The stairs lead to a set of double doors that could only be opened from the inside. I darted up that staircase two stairs at a time, pulling my black hoody down over my head, then crouched into the corner of the door when I reached the top. I was freezing, but I figured that it was the one safe place where she would not accidentally find me - I also had a good view of the back parking lot, should she and Baby decide to leave that way.
I lit up a cigarette to keep me company while I cried. What a fucking mess I was. What is it about me and goddamn bullies? What terrifies me so much, and keeps me bending over submissively, time and again, to take my just desserts? Have I learned fucking nothing?!?! If anything, my experiences should have made me stronger, more resilient to these people. Instead, I become the lost, confused little girl of yesterday, too afraid to stand up to something even when she KNOWS IT IS WRONG. Why don't I fucking stand up for myself? Why am I so afraid? And wouldn't it be better to learn to protect myself, instead of my usual response of just staying the fuck away from people?
Actually, no. Let's not go quite that far. But you know what I mean. When I have to interact with other people, why can't I stand up for myself? This is fucking pathetic. I am thirty one years old, and have lived through so much. How can they reduce me back to that stupid 13 year old, being held down behind the fields? Or in the living room with that goddamn dog three feet away on the patio?
Tonight as I walked my dogs, I marveled at the fact that I don't despise collies, those big Lassie dogs. I guess because he always put her outside first. Why was she so fucking special? And why didn't she do anything, I used to wonder. She's a fucking DOG, I can understand that now, but at the time I still attributed complete comprehension and awareness to my favorite pet. Besides, it wasn't her owner crying out for help. It was the interloper. What the fuck would she know? Dogs don't have the intelligence to decide who is good and who is bad. There is only owner, and other.
I wonder who died first: the boy or the dog? I like to think that it was the dog, and that the boy really, really loved her.
Kinda like Hitler and Blondie. If indeed such types are even capable of feeling love.
I don't know why I am writing any of this.
I think my imminent stay in the psych ward could be bringing some shit to light, heh?