as predicted

So, as predicted, my love and I separated. Its been almost 3 weeks, and it has been Hell. I miss him in ways I can't even describe. I find myself breaking down into hysterical tears when I least expect it; the sadness is overwhelming.

We are still friends, talking and having sex. I couldn't bear to lose him, especially with my health the way it is. I need him. We poke around at a possibility of getting back together in the future, but I know it'll never happen. I don't want to disclose everything, but he and I are so different that I can't picture it ever working out. But I love him dearly, I love him beyond logic and words. I know by being with him even in this capacity is not a good way to overcome the loss, but I was really a mess when we stopped talking. I didn't even know how to cope, I just fell apart every day into someone I didn't even recognize. So we made amends and agreed to be friends so we can get thru this. I want to say I love you every time we talk, and it kills me not to be able to, but I'm doing the best I can.

I finally got into a doctor. There was no consensus on my issue, need more tests which I cannot afford. Being an unemployed, childless woman provides zero benefits in Georgia.  I did get some medication, Hyoscyamine, which has helped a little bit. Once it starts to wear off, though, my digestive system goes into hyperdrive and that's not fun to deal with. The side effects are wretched. I had terrible nightmares the first night in tandem with a raging headache. Seems both of those have ceased, and I'm just let with dry mouth, nose, and a dizzy high feeling.

I have another appt Monday, at a low income clinic. Hoping they can help me along a little more.

what the hell happened

I didn't last 2 days off my medication.  So much for that idea.  Even in the comfort of my own home, my stomach went totally hay-wire on me. I'm definitely going to the doctor.

I'm to the point, and not to be morbid but at the end of my rope, that I half hope it's terminal and I'll die from it soon.  It's a little bit of everything, everything this fucking sickness has done to my life.

My relationship is failing.
I can't find a job.
I'm in pain all of the time. From Mild to Severe.
I can't leave the house without panicking.
I can't eat without fear and I avoid food until I can't take it anymore.
I've lost a little weight this week, nothing dramatic. Probably a combo of trying to exercise and being unwilling to eat.

I read into this stuff and I cannot find any answers. I see people who have lived this way for decades and I don't think I can take that.  They have to find something wrong.  They have to.  I'm certain my mother thinks I am making it up. My boyfriend seems to have lost interest in understanding, not to mention, his affection has dwindled to practically nothing.  I have ceased to return much in retaliation of his apathetic attitude, it's what I do.  I stopped wearing the ring he gave me because looking at it is a constant reminder of how we used to be...and a constant wonder if we'll ever make it back there. I've all but given up on us.

I've all but given up on myself.

I was happy once. And all I can do is cry right now, because I have no idea what the hell happened.

We fight constantly

Here I am again, with the same ol' news.

I had three job interviews and one offer.  The two I didn't get offered were great, high-payers, but unfortunately I'm just not up to par on their gig. Stupid excel bullshit and inevitable traveling. I don't do traveling well since I got sick. The offer backed on me a week later. Small, independent start up gig that opted to not expand at the moment. I felt broken in so many ways.

I have opted to stop taking my medication.  It was a self and mom-diagnosis thing, but it's not helping when I need it the most.  Looking into the side-effects, there could be serious long-term damages done and I think I'm at a place where maybe I can take a break and see how my body is acting by itself. If I don't improve, I'm taking myself to go to the clinic.  I cannot live my life like this.  And honestly, I feel like everyone thinks I am lying about it.  In my interviews, I almost shit myself.  Nevermind I took three different kinds of medication to help ease my stomach, it didn't work. And it's not just high stress situations, even going to the store suddenly kicks my intestines into overdrive and I feel the urge. Even if I can't go, I still feel like I have to. What kind of fucking madness is that?! My gluten-free lifestyle has helped tremendously regarding the pain in my stomach, but something is definitely still going on.  I have chosen to cut back on my sugar intake as well.

I've been healthy my whole life, minus a few small things. I had severe allergies as a kid and had to take immunity shots. I grew an ovarian tumor (benign) that was the size of a basketball and weighed 10 lbs, had to have major surgery to remove it. I get the common cold once every year or two.  I have had food poisoning twice in my life.  I don't have major problems.  I smoke, eat like shit, never exercise and went on sleep deprivation for years and nothing like this has ever happened. I eat better now, get good sleep, and I suppose it is getting better, but it's not well. Whatever has happened is still hanging around.

Yesterday was 7 months for my love and I. Not the most glorious of times for us right now.  I'm a bitter, untamed bitch and he is a naive, selfish asshole.  I love him with all of my heart, though.  Sometimes, I feel like I am just his filler.  His sex toy and someone to talk to when he's bored.  Due to our situation, we have very little to offer each other.  Good morning/night texts, dirty pictures, and a promise we will stay together.  I drive the hour+ to go see him when I can because we can't fuck here. My parents are backwards as hell, denying me, a 31-year old in a serious relationship, the right to have sex with my boyfriend under the roof I live under. Probably stems from 10 years ago when I dragged home everything with a cock and fucked it. I suppose it is my own fault for that, but people change, and I'd like the courtesy of that being acknowledged. Mom said if we get engaged, that'll change.

Le sigh. The boy who asked me daily to marry him in the beginning tells me it'll be at least 5 years. The logical part of me knows that's totally the best idea; but the sad, lonely girl inside me misses him wanting me that bad.  Sometimes, I don't even get good morning texts messages.  We fight constantly. We always make it to tomorrow and we always say I Love You even if we're so mad we could set the other on fire, but we are fighting a lot more than loving these days.

I don't know if we're going to make it.