A-N-D... I'm back.

Mutherfucker, that was a rough one. It's weird. I'm a mass of waste, there's ups and downs but I feel scatter brained and indecisive and totally blah and then a minute later it's like SNAP. And the world is okay again. I cooked lunch, had a shower, did the dishes, actually smiled into the mirror. I just don't get it.

But it's time to get back on track. I think tomorrow I'll tell Joe the 5am thing isn't working and go back to 7-3 Monday to Friday. And go to the gym before work. Yes, for my sanity so much more than my waist line.

Now comes the part where I have to reply to all the calls that I didn't take, apologize for being me. Used to be that I would feel so guilty about making my friends worry. This time I just figured that's the price they have to pay to have a mentally unstable friend. And I'm sorry but when I go through that, I have to think survival above all else.

And so, it looks like we've come to the monster at the end of this book.

It's me!

Silly, but it's a milestone. I have never completed a journal before. Never ever. I would always start fresh and have a new beginning and think everything will be different this time. But I don't want to start fresh again. I want to continue. Finally I can just continue.

On to bigger and better! Congratulations! Pat pat pat!

I'm going to try to get this out while I'm still going through is. Maybe it will help me understand it better. This time it's almost as bad as before the pills. Which, I think, shows the importance of the addition of exercise. It's also strongly tied to my menstrual cycle now. Was it always? I don't know. But these days I have various degrees of breakdown every fourth Monday, Sunday really. It usually isn't this rough or last this long. I need to find a way to go for a walk today. I can't let this control me again.

It's so debilitating. The tears, the frustration, rage-depending on the circumstances, thoughts of hurting myself, worthlessness, I can't concentrate, have a severe case of the "don't wanna"s. Don't wanna read, don't wanna puzzle, don't wanna watch a movie, nothing on tv, can't work, not going online, can't listen to music, not cooking supper, clothes fall where they fall, showers are an ordeal. Even picking up the phone to call work takes an hour of planning and is a struggle. I avoid all of my friends, turn the ringer off on my phone and the world just has to do without me for a day or two.

I just can't cope with the simplest things. Going to the grocery store last night - I desperately needed cake (they didn't have any). Even this.

That's enough for now.

Maybe I'll try to keep going. I have to make sense of this so I can get it under control again. Although I do feel that diagnosis was the best thing for me, it also made it harder. Before I could blame whatever man that was currently in my life or lack of, work problems, family problems, money problems. Fucked up brain problems is a harder pill to swallow.

And no one understands. Maybe Cathy. Debra to a lesser degree. Mental illness, emotional instability, lovely. Julie and Stacey try to understand but how could they? Stacey will say it was the whole Fabian thing this weekend that caused it but it's actually the opposite. The way I reacted was caused by this, a sure sign but I missed it. And it hasn't been this rough in a long time so I guess it's understandable.

I really fucked up with Julie yesterday. I skipped Jenna's birthday party. I couldn't call. I had to leave work because I couldn't stop crying. She left a message on my voicemail yesterday afternoon and I haven't even listened to it yet. In a while I'll send an "I'm alive but it's rough" email and hopefully she'll forgive me. Again.

The funny, or maybe ironic, thing is that no one really believes me. I don't know if believe is the right word but here's this confident, independent, take control, hardworking, straight forward woman and she's a cowering mass of tears? How's that possible? The life of the party, doesn't she smile 24/7? Someone once said to me "don't you ever not smile?" I almost fell to the floor laughing. If she could see me now.

I'm in hell. Hell. I don't even know if I can manage to get anything else out. How is this still happening after all this time? I'm so fat and ugly. And nothing helps. I want to get drunk and stoned and smoke and eat. But nothing will fix this other than time. And just a little time. A day. But, like every month... if I make it!

Omigod! This is sofa-king frustrating! Is this what life is supposed to be like? Fuck! When does all this crap stop?

I don't even want to write about it. I'm so sick of it. I have no control over what he does and what he feels but don't I have control over what I do and what I feel? I guess I just don't know what to do... there's pros and cons on every side of this. And, yes, if I could figure out what the hell is going on with him it would be easier.

And then the little guy on my shoulder whispered - he told you what's going on. He wants to see other people, he doesn't want a relationship with you. And when his dick gets itchy he figures you for an easy lay. And you always answer his calls, don't you? Up until Friday night you always opened your legs, too. But now he will most likely be gone and never heard from again. Will it do any good to chase him? He knows what he wants and what he doesn't want. And what he doesn't want is you. Yes, he likes you. Yes, he wants to be friends. So what? Does what he wants matter more than what you want? How are you ever possibly going to get over this if you don't cut ties? All ties. Permanently. Just don't answer the fucking phone. Delete the email. He'll get the message. If he ever tries to contact you again.

But you know why I don't cut ties? That fucking hope. Where the hell does that come from? Pessimism might help here. A little blame, for shitsake. Oh, it isn't his fault. Yes, it fucking is. He took advantage of your good nature. He told you himself. He was lonely so he used you. Yeah, but someday he'll come to his senses and fall hopelessly in love with you, right? Fucking chump. You are a fucking chump.

CHRIST - WHY DO I KEEP DOING THIS?

God, I am such a fucking chump! What the hell did he ever do for me? Seriously - what the fuck do I even want him around for?

Who needs him? Who needs any man? They are all idiots! Seriously! Can you think of any redeeming qualities? He makes me laugh - buy a fucking comic book. For sex I have a vibrator. Spring is here so my hay fever will take care of any irritation requirements.

See, the problem is though, that I'm PMSing right now and in a couple of days I'll be all fucking glass is half full fucking door mat again. I need to take control of this right now.

And as I start to write "break ties once and for all" that little fucker on my shoulder says except if he calls or emails today. How do I squash you, you little son of a bitch?
He doesn't want you.
He doesn't want you.
He doesn't want you.
He doesn't want you.
He doesn't want you.
He doesn't what? Yes, want you.

That's it. Let go. Once and for all. Just walk away. And rejoice. And in a few years you will be driving down the road and think "remember that Fabian guy? Wonder what ever happened to him? What an idiot he was!"

Ah freedom, sweet relief.

Omigod. Oops. Mutherfucker. Oops. Vicious circle. De ja vu. Idiot. Sigh.

So, guess who called me yesterday. Come on, I'll give you three guesses. Shit. And he came over. We chatted, me in chair, he on couch. And it was fine. We had supper. Wine. Hours and hours. Then it got dark and I lit some candles and sat on the couch. He rubbed my feet. Fuck. Stupid, stupid. And then he kissed me. Did I want him to? Yes. Did it feel good? Yes. Then I said something like "unless something has changed, this isn't going to happen." And he pulled away. And I started crying. Crying, for fuck's sake! Two goddamned bottles of wine and I'm a blubbering idiot. I told him to leave. When he got home he wrote this:

"I'm an ass. I went over because I was lonely and I thought I could just visit but I was wrong. I almost made it without doing something stupid but I fucked up. I'm glad you laid the law down... at least one of us could. I feel comfortable with you Bev and I sadly took advantage of that. I promise it won't happen again. I'm so sorry."

Oh, I'm not to the good stuff yet. Cuz I emailed him back. Did I ever. Fucking idiot.

"Don't go taking all the blame, pal. I was there last night. I knew what was going on and I pushed it and pushed it and I wanted it. What I really don't want and will never want is to have sex with someone who is having sex with someone else. Bottom line. That is a rule that I have had my whole life and I told you that when we met. When I said "unless something has changed" I meant the fact that you wanted to sleep with other people. And the tears were a product of the wine so don't worry about it.
I really don't get this, Fabian. You feel comfortable with me, you like spending time with me, you obviously are okay having sex with me... so, what's the problem? I never asked you to marry me or move in with me or make a commitment to me or say that you loved me... I just wanted to spend more time with you. That's all. You broke up whatever we were doing back then because you wanted to be able to see other people. Where are they? Are you holding out just in case you find something better?
The most amusing fact of all of this is that we pretty much want the same thing, as far as I can see. I like my life. I like my time alone. I don't want children. I don't want to live with anyone. And I work weird hours so having a social life is virtually impossible. I feel so different from all of my friends that are married and having children. I don't want those things and I really don't know why - I just don't. And I'm mostly okay with being different... but being with you makes me feel less different.
I like spending time with you, Fabe. There's something about you that makes me feel good inside... something clicks into place. I don't understand how that's a bad thing.
I don't know what else to say. But I'm going to lie down now... crap, that wine was vicious!"

And that's that. No reply. I was lying in bed thinking about how I promised myself that I wouldn't chase him anymore. And wondering how he felt when he read my email. Or is he out with someone? Or gone into his cave? And then I laughed a little when I realized that he probably reacted the same way I did to the "we're both horny" email. Probably rolled his eyes and hit delete.

Oh well, whatcha gonna do? Stop checking my email might be a start. A damn good start.

I want to say that, unless he reacts favourably and soon, I'll have to cut off ties with him. But I probably won't. I love the fucker. Fucker.

Why is it that at the end of every movie, when the guy holds the girl and you just know that everything is going to be just fine, why is it that I always cry? I always think: I've never had that. And maybe I'll never have that. I guess I have though, maybe not the way I wanted it, maybe not like in the movies. Will I have it like that? Ever? Someone who will put their arms around me, just because I need it? I hope so. But I honestly fear that I won't.

And I know it isn't everything. I'm not that girl who thought that some man could make everything okay. That girl is gone. It would still be nice to have that, though.

I was just watching this movie and the guy says "do you feel like you chose your life or like your life chose you?" And I chose. I could have stayed in the trailer park in Wabush with Paul. I could have stayed in Mom and Dad's basement in Newfoundland. I could have stayed in my beautiful house with Karl and my beautiful dogs. But something was wrong and I needed to make it right. And I did. I don't think that I ever gave myself enough credit for that. People say how brave to move across the country by yourself. How strong to buy your own home and live alone. How dedicated to work so hard and do so well. And - damnit! - they're right. I keep reminding myself to stop crying for what I don't have, for being different and rejoice who I am. Because this is who I wanted to be. This. Here. Now. This. Me. Stop crying.

What is it that I want to write about?

Him? Haven't the last hundred or so pages been sufficient? When do I get to stop? I'm so done after that last "episode". So done.

Sigh.

It's unfair, you know, how all of those books and movies that I've spent so much time on are misleading. And untrue. And fake. And a sham. Love doesn't happen that way. No one sees you across a crowded room and chases you. No one starts off as an irritant or sparing partner and suddenly becomes the love of your life.

Have I given up? At 34, hanging up my gloves? Oh, I want to. But obviously this pen is making a fool of me. I want it. I want love. I want a relationship. I just doubt that I will find it. I'm different. And it's not because I'm fat and it's not because I've been depressed for so long. I'm just different. Why oh why can I not just go down that same basic path that everyone else seems to be on? Different is lonely. Strength is lonely. Is there anyone out there for me? Anywhere? There must be. How can I find him? Why the fuck do I care, for shit's sake? It's all a joke. Fucking love. My ass. It's heartache and tears and doubt and miscommunication. And faking orgasms and compromise. It's conforming and giving up who you are.

Who needs it? Put in another movie and crack open that tub of ice cream and move on already. Sigh.

Maybe we're just both really horny, he says. Maybe we're just both really horny. I say that I felt bad about the email and there's this deep deep part of me screaming LOVE ME! LOVE ME! Make it all better! And he says maybe we're just both really horny.

And then I whisper thank you and turn off the computer.

Stoopid computer.

Stoopid computer, I said. And it is. Stoopid. The source of our meeting, our first correspondence, the source of tears and nights spent alone. The object of my obsession. And now my friend and confidante. Ha! In a drunken stupor it's more like a sword. In my back. In my heart. Stoopid computer. Please go away. And take him with you.

This is the email that I sent to him on March 19. The subject was "ouch".

"I can't tell you how much you have hurt me. I spent so much time loving you and wanting you. I hope you never get that again. I hope no one ever loves you like I did. I hope I never see you again. Fuck off and be your own warped version of yourself because I really loved you and that's gone now and that's your problem, not mine. I never want to see you again. No matter what I say... I don't want to be your friend. I want nothing from you other than to forget you exist. Goodbye."

Beverly, Beverly, Beverly. One phone call? Almost a week ago? Look at you. Where is the strength? The resolve? You know he's not for you. You know you don't want to be with him. You're happy enough on your own for now. So - what the fuck, girlfriend? Seriously, is there anything he could say that would make you take him back? (yes) Is there anything about him that you actually miss? (yes) WAIT! Let me rephrase that. Is there anything you might miss that's been apparent in the last year or so? (sigh)

It's over. He's gone. He wants to "be friends". He wants to clear his conscience. He wants the girl who giggled at his jokes and moaned at his cock and when he gets his fill he'll be on his way again.

Did he get that assfuck that he was looking for? Is he calling because the three-way is all set up and he needs number 3? And, if not, could you ever trust him now? (yes)

SHUT UP! Repeat after me: Fabe-who? Nope, doesn't ring a bell.

Move on. Don't get sucked in. Things don't change. Things won't change. Let go already.

Because. I. Am. Seriously. Sick. Of. This. Seriously.

And, anyway, why would this even bother me? I know he can't offer what I want and need. I want encouragement and support. I want doors held and toilets fixed. I want comfort and respect and strength. I don't want to wait for someone who can barely spend their time with me. Someone who comes and goes without rhyme or reason or justification. Someone who needs another to complete his sexual needs. Someone who really doesn't want me that much and has told me that they cannot love me.

Who is this naive little girl trying to suppress the fantasies of "what if"? Doesn't she realize yet that "what if" no longer considers him an option, under any circumstance? Silly girl.

Continue your journey, down the path in the opposite direction. There is someone waiting for you. Someone worthy and deserving. Someone who will love you and want you. And only you.

There's nothing left to suck you back in. It's been confronted. And it's gone. And it was never really there to start with. <3

Why did that mutherfucker call me? Doesn't he know how tired I am today? How much I need sleep to be able to face another crazy day? Doesn't he know that I don't want to keep going over and over and over this? Enough. More than enough. Long ago.

As it begins, so does it end. Guilty. Tears sprung to my eyes as I stood for the verdict. She just nodded. I don't feel bad, I don't doubt my decision in the slightest. Maybe it was in compassion for her and all that she will be facing now. Maybe with compassion for all that had happened to her and all that she had done. Because I do not believe in excuses but I do believe in reasons. And she has lead such a horrific life.

During her testimony she said that she was raped for the first time by her friend's father WHEN SHE WAS SEVEN. When I was seven I was chasing around boys and getting in crap for not doing my homework. At eleven, I was still chasing boys (the same boys, oddly enough), she was getting molested by her stepfather and stepbrother. She was living in a car at 13, I was worrying about the prom.

How is it possible that two people could live such extremely different lives?

Tina Marie Mitchell
killed Marjorie Gillan at 5am on September 2, 2004. She drank her booze and did her crack and then she picked up a bat and beat her best friend to death. I hope, I truly hope and maybe need to believe that Marjorie did attack her. I hope that the feared for her life as she struck the first blow. And I hope that she honestly and truly doesn't remember so that she doesn't have to see that scene in her mind, over and over, for the rest of her life. But what she did, and admits to doing, could never be justified. Under any circumstance. And I refuse to believe that I could ever, even in the most extreme circumstance, hurt someone the way she did. I don't think that I will ever forget those pictures. Of the bruises and the bits of brain that you could see through the mass of contusions on her head, of the crack in her skull and the stab wounds on her chest, of the cut across her foot, of the pillow. Oh, that pillow.

It was quite an experience. Seeing how the justice systems works and frustrates. Hearing such intimate details of people that I didn't even know existed. Crying for a woman that had led such a horrifying life that you wonder how she could have survived. And she still fights to survive.

Maybe that was what she needed. I have to believe that from every tragedy, some good must come. Maybe, if this were a movie, she would turn her whole life around. Stay off the drugs, lead a productive life, work to get her son out of foster care and stop the cycle. Stop the cycle.

What could I do, I wonder? Could I help? I really feel that I need to reach out in some way. I have been so blessed. But I've had my share of pain. I am fortunate enough to have friends and family who support me. And a real strength that I always took for granted. The upsetting fact that I am so different from other people is also, in a way, my favourite part of myself. I couldn't have one without the other.

Ah, it really is all about me, isn't it?
All the best, Tina. Godspeed. Godspeed.

The trial started today. My head is swimming with visions and pictures and crushed skulls. And I am so tired, so very tired. Julie and Nicola and I went out on Saturday night. Drunken stupor at Gabby's. Very fun. Julie said something that I keep thinking about. As usual, I was telling her how wonderful she is, how beautiful, how heads turn when she enters a room. And she said something like people don't notice her as much as me, that people crowd around me, life of the party. Feels good that that is what she sees. Any maybe others as well.

I'm awesome! Who knew?
Um... everybody! ;)


Round the table: Bev - Rita - Rich - Carl - Don - Ross - James - Virginia - Carol - Mal - Grant - Kerri

Go to sleep! Sleep! Sleep!

It's been a weird couple of days. He came over last night and we had sex and talked. And ever since I can't stop thinking - who was that person? Who was that? I don't want to be with this guy. And, I guess, just like that I was freed. I know we both changed over the past year or whatever but omigod! That guy is so not the person that I want to be with. I don't even know if I can explain it. Ugh! He's 37 and he sent me an email of his dick? Are you kidding me? I am so not interested. Stunned but so not interested. I'm so not interested that I don't even want to talk about this anymore.

So, still at Karl and Jenny's. I don't mean to be rude but how do people possibly live like this? It's gross here - just gross. At every corner in every room there is something else that I stare at in shock and disbelief! Can you spell gross?

He called today. Called home and then my cell but I was up here babysitting the boys while Karl and Jenny are in Calgary. Anyway, I struggled for a bit with the whatfors and I wonderwhys. Then I said, why not just face it? And I called him back. You know what he said? He was at the Superstore and they had Nintendo games on special and he wondered if I wanted any. He was AT THE SUPERSTORE AND THEY HAD NINTENDO GAMES ON SPECIAL AND HE WONDERED IF I WANTED ANY. WHAT? Shall I say it again?

Well, there you go then. After almost 4 years it is done. Yeah. Again. But this time for real. He doesn't want me. He's been dating other people. I'm glad he told me, though. I know he thinks a lot of me - but as a friend. And I really appreciate that he told me. So, I'll cry for a day or two and move on. Next time it will be different. Next time I won't fall too fast. Next time I'll be chased.

I do need to throw up a little bit, though. Yeah, it's gonna be rough for a bit but much better in the long run, Bevie, much better.

Well, I think I made a big oopsie-poopsie with the Fabe. I sent an email on Sunday morning - rather light hearted in manual form - saying I love you, I would like to see you more, blah, blah, blah. And not a word.

Not that that surprises me but just a little nagging at the base of my skull (or heart?) saying why? Why are you still here? Of course the answer is that I love him. I did a LOT of soul searching last year and the answer was that I want to be with him. That does not, however, make him want to be with me.

And, as my saying goes - whatchagonnado?

I was just watching a movie. And the guy holds her and kisses the top of her head while she sleeps and I think "will anyone ever love me like that?" I've always felt so alone and worthless and I've gone through all of these changes and I'm still alone. Not worthless anymore but not really any less alone, either. Am I kidding myself that this thing with Fabian will ever be any more than it is right now? I'm tired of this, I want more. I don't want to be alone anymore. I want someone's arms around me, I want to feel like someone cares about me, I want to look into someone's eyes and see love there.

I don't understand what is wrong with me? What makes me so different from anyone else? Am I unworthy? Am I not a good person? When does the pain end? When do I get to stop feeling like I'm constantly struggling? I'm tired.

My good god. Do you have any idea how much baggage I have been carrying around for the past 20 years? It just hit me. I mean, I never forgot but it just hit me how much it's stayed with me and how much it influences me. That one little moment changed everything. That sentence. That "I don't want to go out with you anymore". When I was... what? 16? Jesus.

That's why I always hold back for a bit when Fabian comes over. That's why, when he's not with me I think he's with someone else. Because Dave was. And I have never been so humiliated. I never felt so stupid and duped and hurt. And everyone knew. My mother knew. The whole Teen Centre knew. And I was all la-de-da, kiss kiss, tee hee. The one time that I didn't go to the dance.

And I have been trying to avoid feeling like that ever since. And I always thought that it was because she was pretty and she was thin and she was younger. But maybe it was because of how she made him feel. Maybe it was because she made him feel strong and wanted and I was home and didn't show up without even bothering to call.

I still wait that first few minutes to judge his demeaner before I react to him. I've never been able to kiss and love him without some sign that it was okay. It never really occurred to me that he probably wondered why I was always cold at first. It isn't his fault that when I was 16 David Parmiter screwed around on me at a dance with Angela Hardy in front of all of my friends and no one told me and the next day he broke up with me at the Teen Centre in front of all of my friends and I laughed when he said I don't want to go out with you anymore, I laughed and I said yeah, me too. It isn't his fault that somehow in that one moment my heart was broken and while it has been bandaged and healed there is still this little scar that is barely visible. But behind that scar the scar tissue has been building and pushing out the caring feelings that could be there. In that one moment I stopped believing, I stopped trusting. My deepest fears were confirmed - I wasn't good enough. Self-fulfilling prophecy? Maybe. But the fact remains that I never let anyone put me in that position again. And I really don't know if I can start now.