It's like a contraction....but worse

I am miserable today....for many reasons.







I haven't been feeling well for awhile. But lately I've been having sharp pains in my lower abdomen. I mean these things make me double over in pain so bad, that I wonder,....did my contractions even hurt this bad???







Well, Friday Boyfriend and I got to go out on a date yea! It was a decent night, a pitcher of sangraia wine and two tattoo's are the results of that night:)

Yes...I did say tattoo's. In Reality world, my name isn't Anabiosis, or even close. As a matter of fact, I am often referred to by my last name. I love my last name. I like that people call me Last name instead of first name, it's cool. Boyfriend's last name begins with the same letter, that mine does, "P". We've both talked about getting a tattoo that was just a P...so we did.

Saturday, I went back home to Beaumont, and had a dinner date with my best friend who I have known for 27 years, and the girl who I talked about in my blog "The most mature relationship", as well as my 39 year old brother who had a cancerous kidney removed just barely 2 weeks ago.

Anyway, I proceed to get hammered. I mean d-r-u-n-k, but a fun drunk. It was good times with good friends, and good food, ...and about 1 and a half Georgia Teas too many.

1 oz vodka
1 oz gin
1 oz light
rum
1 oz peach
schnapps
fill with fruit
juice

yummy drink... obviously. And I was just happy to out, pretending to be a normal person. That was all about to change a few hours later.

I woke up around 9, got in the shower, felt fine, but hungover, then death started rattling on my door. I started throwing up, and never stopped. I missed church. I could barely get from the bed to the bathroom. I had the backdoor issues as well. My mother finally forced me to get in the truck so we could all go to my cousins house for Easter. I threw up twice along the way. I started to call Boyfriend, but started throwing up, so I asked my brother to leave a message for him.

I did nothing all except violently throw up, and lay down. And I will admit that I am not only embarrassed, but ashamed that I missed watching Doodle have the best day ever. He got to play with all the little cousins, jump on the trampoline, ride a small moterized bike, he had a blast. I felt like I was dying. I was even toying with going to the E.R. During all of this, once when my mom came to check on me, I asked her to call boyfriend for me, to let him know what was going on, because I didnt' want him worrying about me. She got his voice mail, and left him a message that I was terribly sick. He called back later and told her in a snarky tone, that he would rather I called him, and IF I really was THAT sick, I should see a doctor. She came and told me, and then I thew up some more. About 45 mintues later, I called him from the home phone at my cousins house ( my cell was in my truck ) and left a message, saying I was about to ask my mom to take me to the ER. It was at this time, my cousin asked me if I wanted a phenergan suppository, and I said yes. I know, a little too much info, but it worked. When we climbed back in the truck I called boyfriend who was being mean. I told him I was sick, and his comment was that's what happens when you get drunk. The words aren't that mean themselves...it was the tone. Then he asked me what time I got home last night, and I said, "I don't have a clue."

Then...

He said, "Did you even come home??"

This started a fight.

He didn't believed I was as sick as I was.

Last ngiht.....he assures me that his drunk and coming home comments were jokes, (just ask his brother)...and I got defensive about it. My fault.

I disrespected him by not calling him.

My family disrepected him by not forcing me to call him. By leaving him messages for me.

When I got home, he had packed several bags...and was leaving.

.

I put Doodle in the tub...and sat there with him, while he played with the bubbles left in his Easter Basket.

I still felt miserable. The phenergan was wearing off. He wanted to talk. Which resulted in his normal...if you want, I will leave and you'll never see me again. Not good. I said, bye. He then continued....and continued to tell me what I did was wrong. I needed to apoligize for me and my family disrespecting him....and our relationship. Seems he thinks they were covering up something, "pulling the wool over his eyes."

The whole fight is a blur. I can't remember all of as most of the time I was fighting off the knife like feeilng in my lower abdomen,...and the waves of nausea that were filtering back in. I do remember he made the comment, that I deserved men like The Ex. It was at that point, that I got up, went to the bathroom, and started my bath. Went to our room, got my pj's...and back in. He followed. He asked me what was going on and I replied with, "that was it. That was the comment that ends it all here."

yeah... he left.

I let him...

After my bath...I closed and lock the front door, and went to bed.

He came back. Because he wanted to hug me.

We continued to fight.

My whole thing is this: I became clear to me, that no matter what decision I make (like asking my mom to call him so he would know what was going on) that it isn't right, nor one that makes him happy.

I can't win for losing.

All I wanted to do was sleep.

But in he came. Wondering why I don't care. My answer was simple enough to me.

I am not that girl anymore.

I'm just not. Thanks to Ex. I used to cry. I used to fret. I used to literally worry myself sick.

I am cold. I am broken. All he keep saying was, " I need you to make me stay", and yet all I did was sit there and stare at the wall.

Is it possible? That I am still........carrying that much hate, not to mention that much hurt, that I can't swallow my pride enough to tell Boyfriend that I love him and need him in mine and Doodlebug's life??? The old me, would have groveled. The old me would have cried and begged him to stay. The me post Ex... just sits there and says NOTHING. Not one word.

I am still sick today. My stomach is killing me. I sit here and I wonder, it is stress that is doing this to me? Is it the worry, and the constant "what if" , and "when is he's"??? that is pulling me down so far, that my body is finally starting to react negatively?

Naturally there is so much more to all of this. But I can't even fathom the energy to write. But I was going to let him walk out of our house last night...just let him go. He may still go.

Do I fight?

Do I grovel?

Or do I continue to be the stone of person that I have been???