My Brain Never Shuts Up.

It's been a while. I have been avoiding thinking about my feelings or expressing them. Always a good healthy thing. More accurately, I have been avoiding thinking about my feelings in a healthy way. They have sucked me under and kept me in bed for almost whole weekends. They have diminished my appetite, which at least has had the nice benefit of helping me have some portion control and drop some unnecessary weight. Usually I eat my feelings, so this whole lack of appetite thing is foreign to me, or was before this last year.

I still don't really want to talk about my feelings. They are painful and they will be real and ugly here on my blog. And I feel like I'll never be able to fix anything anyways... I don't seem to be getting any better and the same annoying things that drag me down into horrible abysses of anxiety just keep rearing their ugly heads. I have the same anxieties I was having at 12, and I'm thirty something now. Awesome.

I keep thinking about my alcoholic friend, Red. I haven't heard from him since last fall. Coolgirl came over a few weeks ago and helped me go through the things of his I was holding that I should have gotten rid of long ago, since they were a huge blaring monument to my codependency. I felt guilt, but I also felt a huge weight lifted. I now have a very small box of things I will mail to his dad. If I ever figure out his address, because I am not texting, emailing, or facebooking Red. He will answer, and he will make me cry. Whether he is mean or manipulative or something in between, I know it will rip my heart.

Having made it past that step, I'm now onto facing the reality that he is out of my life. I miss him when I think waaaay back, but I also have embraced the reality that he is not that person now. And that makes me sad. But I also still feel a sense of failure. I failed him as a friend. I failed to keep a friend. I have lost another friend. I lost Roomie, and then Red, all in a matter of months. And now other friends don't seem to be totally loving me (read, they don't have the time for me I want them to have), and I am having this insane, panicky, horrible, irrational feeling that soon I will be so, so truly alone. No one wants to love me. But see, there, those feelings I said I didn't want to talk about have slipped out.

So I now find myself wondering when I will hear that Red is dead. Will he live for years? Is he already dead? Is his liver about to go? Will he overdoes? Will he do something stupid when he is drunk and hi? Will he just get tied up with other equally stupid people at a stupid time and have something horrible happen to him? and if he does, will I get a phone call from his brother or his dad? It's a real fear. He kept saying the last few years we were in contact that he wants to live hard and die young. I think that was his way of pretending he chooses to have his addiction and sink into it. But I think he has embraced his mortality in a scary, scary way. We're still friends on facebook. I see him post every few months. A while back he was online every once in a while, and I totally could have tried to chat. The way I know my heart has changed is that I didn't want to. It would only have ended in tears. But I do want to know if he's doing okay. I hope he's doing better. I want to believe he is, and that somehow I've overestimated his addiction and the direction he is heading because of it. But I'm pretty sure I haven't.