Woke up: La Paz, Baja California Sur, Mexico
Went to sleep: La Paz, Baja California Sur, Mexico
My Emotional Meltdown
I had an emotional meltdown. I cried for an entire day and a half. I couldn’t stop.
Peter and I were supposed to go for a walk together. I went into the marina office to ask after a package and while I stepped away Peter left. When I came out I couldn’t find him. I was afraid to leave the marina for fear he would return looking for me.
We had a very big fight yesterday about a cookie. I offered Peter a cookie and he said, “No.” (Has anyone ever seen Peter turn down a cookie?)
It feels like he says “no” to me 95% of the time. I said, “See, there you go. You always say ‘No.’” Because I mentioned this he responded, “Why do you always have to pick on me?” And from there he started hollering at me and dragging all kinds of irrelevant information into the hollering.
It’s been cloudy and cold in La Paz for several days. I needed a brisk nine mile walk and to do something fun together. His leaving me pushed me over the edge. I sat on the bench to wait for him to return and cried behind my sunglasses.
Once we got home I crawled up on top of the V-birth and covered up with a blanket to wait. To wait for dark, to wait for tomorrow, to wait for it to stop hurting. Every time I tried to get up, my body was too heavy to lift. It was as if the impulses from my brain telling my legs and arms to rise off the mattress were severed.
I cried when I thought of my siblings whom I have not always been close to but am now. I cried when I thought of my mom. I worry she is lonesome or afraid in her dementia. I cried when I thought of Christmas.
Suddenly, I decided it would be better if I could be someone else. Maybe I could paint my face black and fade into the darkness. But, black is too morbid. Maybe I could paint my face white? In the end I painted my face pretty. I put on eye liner and blush and bright red lipstick. With each bit of added color I am no longer the old, plain, ugly hag I was when Peter decided to leave me waiting on the corner. I felt more attractive. And, of course, I tried not to cry any more so as not to smear my makeup. I didn’t want to be a sad, pathetic looser so I sat up and tried to focus on a crossword puzzle.
We picked up a stowaway. I accidentally forgot I am a bigot. I momentarily thought I was someone who liked people under 30. Anita just turned 29. “Dreadlocks and piercings and tats, Oh No!” What was I thinking?
She told me how to make rice. Peter is tripping over himself to impress her. I am told I am wrong in front of her. It gives me diarrhea.
A dear old friend told me, “Susan, you are amazing when you are being nice.” I take hold that thread of words like a lifeline to my sanity.