Dustin didn’t reply to my text message and I felt blown off. I called him, but I choked on the phone.
“I’m so stupid. Am I crazy? I’m over-reacting. Why can’t I just say how I feel? Why do I feel this anxiety that makes me feel like I’m going to breakdown?” my internal monologue said.
Agh, going to the hot tub.
Nope, I’m not. The tears were coming down too strong and I had to turn around and walk back up the hallway to my apartment.
I threw myself onto the bed. Sam could hear me crying from the other room.
“What’s wrong?” she said coming into the bedroom.
“I don’t know. I feel crazy. I’m scared. I’m frustrated. I don’t know why I feel anxious or why I can’t say what I want to say.”
“It’s okay to be sad. You’ve been hurt a lot. You’re not crazy. You just like him – and you want to be free to like him.”
The emotions – good emotions, supposedly – the feeling of being excited over someone new and then abruptly not hearing from them was sending me over the edge. Given all the other emotions I’d had to sort through this week, it was no wonder. “When is this going to stop hurting?”
“I don’t know.” Sam was lying overtop of me while I wiped my eyes with a towel.
Sam took my phone for the evening and I took an Adivan. Maybe that would help the nausea go away.