2002-07-12 - 8:59 a.m.

My body and mind have betrayed me. At least, it appears that they have. The more I think about it though, the more I realize that they are actually helping me. Yesterday when I fell ill all I could do was say, ďFuck, fuck, fuck, itís not fucking fair...Ē over and over again. Yesterday I was pissed off. Over these past three weeks that the BOY has been in the States, I knew that I would have to set my body and mind on cope in order to survive the whirlwind he creates. (And, when I say whirlwind I donít mean it sound as though he is chaos, itís just that in MY life things are very precise, ordered and scheduled so anyone that has any sense of spontaneity is considered a whirlwind in my eyes.) So, I did that, I set myself on cope. I knew that I would only have to last three weeks before I could settle back into my ďlifeĒ and routines. My body and mind however decided to shut down on me at the most inopportune time. Yesterday. The BOY will only be here another three days.

Having strep throat would and should have only interfered with today and possibly tomorrow still leaving me with one day to kiss him as much as possible before he heads back to France. BUT...the stress of being sick, the stress of not sleeping well for two weeks, the stress of eating junk food, the stress of suddenly not knowing what my life has in store for me, and the stress of being thrown off my schedule has deposited FIVE, yes, FIVE, coldsores upon my lips which means that kissing that BOY before he hops on his plane and heads 4,000 miles away from me is out of the question. Not only that, but now I donít want to even SEE him before he leaves because I am so horrifyingly embarrassed by my lips that I canít even peek my head out my front door to check my mailbox. So, now you understand why I am pissed, why I think my mind and body have betrayed and sabotaged me.

But...I am starting to now feel completely the opposite. I think my mind and body are actually helping me. What would have happened if my body hadnít given out on me is that today I would be at work, I would be tired, grouchy and anxious. Tonight the BOY would have swooped in, put me in his car and driven me far away for the weekend. I would have spent the weekend not sleeping well, not eating well and being constantly on edge while meeting his friends and family. Mind you, I would have been happy with all that, I want to spend time with him, I want to meet his family and friends...but I know that after he left on Sunday I would fall from exhaustion only to emerge in depression. But, by being sick and disfigured I am so desperate to be healthy and pretty again that I will emerge from THIS abyss better than I was before. I can feel it brewing within me, a need to escape my former life, a need to come out of this a different person. Had I remained healthy and pretty for the remainder of his stay I would have found myself on Monday wandering around in a daze of unhappiness. I would have been forced to resume my normal routines in order to reestablish a sense of comfort within me. I would have ended up exactly where I was before BOY. And I canít do that. I no longer want to live that life of routine.

These past weeks that he has been here, these weeks when I have grown accustomed to his voice and his touch I have felt quite alive, or at least an slight inkling of being alive. I understand that there is far more out there than my life has previously shown me. In these past weeks, even though I havenít been home much, even though I have not slept much, I have written more than I had written total in the past year. That in itself makes me want to not go back to my former life where even brushing my teeth was scheduled. I want to let go, I want to step outside my borders now. And I know that if I hadnít fallen ill I never would have done that, I would not have had this rock bottom feeling from which to climb out of. I would have just been miserably depressed instead of miserably depressed and desperate.

I am desperate right now, desperate to get out of this sickness, desperate for these THINGS on my lips to disappear, desperate to wake up and feel cleansed. I am finding that I wasnít quite ready for him yet. I still have some things to do, some holes to climb out of, some life to put in myself. Having this sickness is giving me a jumpstart, not being able to kiss him before he leaves is perhaps saving me from falling too desperately in love with him at the wrong time. This is saving me from something I am not equipped to handle quite yet. I know that the next time I see him I will be ready, I will be new, cleansed, healthy and so freakin full of life HE might not be able to handle MY whirlwind.

So, thank you sickness, thank you coldsores and thank you BOY for making me wake up and smell the roses. Already I can feel my fingers clawing at the dense swamp I had surrounded myself in, I can feel myself almost emerging. So watch out. Iíve woken up.


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