A strange, bad night. Started out not so bad. H played at Cafe Mundi last night, with S. I invited several people from work and from DFA. No one from DFA showed up, but I didn't necessarily expect them to. Several friends showed and this one woman from work came with her husband.
I was nervous, but almost okay. My usual jitters. But I didn't run inside and hide in the bathroom, and I didn't say anything too stupid (I don't think) and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. H and S sounded great. It was fucking cold though. Weeks of warm weather and suddenly the temp drops into the 60s. Weird.
But the sky was beautiful. That cold crisp wind swept all the fog and haze away. A new moon and all the stars glinting like bits of broken glass.
Anyway. That part of the evening went well. H and I chatted with friends, came home, chatted with each other, went to bed. But all day I've been feeling foggy and unsteady; I dozed off but then woke up seizing. Not severe, just--there. These dizzy black spots in my head. I felt cold all over. And afraid. That feeling of standing on the edge of dark water, knowing that if I fall in I won't be able to get out and I'll have no choice but to drown.
I got up and took some extra meds. Then I lay back down and waited. H was still asleep. The dizziness faded and I began to relax a little bit. Warm again. Just cold inside. For comfort, I slid my hand down my belly and between my thighs. I was gently rubbing my clit when this awful feeling of regret and guilt crept into my brain. For some reason, I was thinking about a puppy I owned briefly after I graduated college. I became severely depressed around that time and couldn't take care of her. So I gave her up--left her at the vet's and just hoped they'd find her a home. But suddenly, I knew that had never happened--suddenly I was positive that she'd been sent to the pound and euthanized.
The stupid, crazy stuff I think of sometimes... but anyway, I was lying in bed with my fingers between my legs and H snoring beside me, feeling horribly guilty. Waves of sickness and guilt pounding at me. I wanted so badly to have done something different that there was an almost hallucinatory quality to my wanting.
I'm feeling it right now. It's a strange grief--loss and guilt--my fault--and anger at the loss. And wanting to make things right, desperately wanting to fix what is broken or wrong. And knowing it's impossible. The chance was back then, in the past. I missed it.
I know this feeling, I know this foolishness. I've known it since I was a child.