Part of the reason I was away from the blog for so long is because my husband and I had our 15th wedding anniversary this past week. We went out to dinner a lot and went on a day trip etc.
There are times when I keep myself going in life by trying to hold on to one thing, something that I can look forward to, something that can keep my mind off of life. So, I was looking forward to our anniversary because it meant dinners and fun and gifts. And, now it’s over. There’s always a crash after something I’ve been looking forward to is over so I’m anticipating it and wondering if it will be mild or…not so mild. I’m trying not to borrow trouble though, so I’ll just see what happens.
I have to say that I was disappointed in my husband this year though. 🙂 I am a HUGE sci-fi/fantasy/comic book etc. fan so he knows that I like stuff like that but, it was 15 years and I was expecting something that said “15 years”. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want anything expensive, I just expected something meaningful and meaningful has nothing to do with money, it can in fact be very simple. So, what did he give me? Action figures. W-o-w. I kept thinking that it was a joke and that he really had something else he was working up to. The fact that only the week prior to our anniversary I had jokingly guessed that he got me these exact toys only made it worse because I was right but I was kidding. Yikes. I had to pretend to be happy about it and then I watched him open his gift and he was rendered speechless by it. I won’t say what I got him but it literally took me months of researching (which I actually love to do because of my library background) and a ton of shopping around to get a good deal. Usually he knows me very well but this time I was surprised by his lack of thought. I’m not going to complain anymore though because it’s done.
I’ve noticed that I’ve been living in my fantasy world a lot. Every moment that my husband’s not directly with me (he took the week off from work) I’m somewhere else. I’ve also been engaging in compulsive behavior to an extreme degree with the requisite fantasies accompanying it. And I mean extreme. In fact it’s so extreme that I’ve actually scared myself. The fantasies aren’t about my abuser but they are always about horrible things. It got so bad at a point that I actually thought I was going to start weeping. It was almost surreal but I didn’t recognize it as a dissociative state, at least not anything I’ve felt before. I don’t get it but it’s not good.
I have therapy tomorrow so perhaps I’ll end up humiliating myself by telling her what I’ve been up to. Ugh.