On rage

COUNTDOWN: 5 DAYS TO SIX FEET UNDER

It's amazing what can set me spinning into an ex-related rage.

The roommate's shaking her burlesque ass in Coney Island Friday night. Naturally, she sent me a link to the show. Then I say hmm, wonder when the Mermaid Parade is this year. Then I remember the Mermaid Day parade last year, which culminated in screaming and objects being thrown and sleeping as far away from each other as the tiny apartment would allow. It doesn't even have to be the Mermaid Day parade. It could be me waking up suddenly at five in the morning, and remembering all the times I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep because he was prolonging coming home as long as possible and I knew it. It could be me walking by his restaurant on the way to pick up my laundry and remembering all the times he accused me of spying on him. It could be me half-asleep on the futon, remembering all the nights it was less lonely to sleep there than it was to go to bed and sleep next to him. It could be me feeling incredibly sexually frustrated and remembering what it was like to be incredibly sexually frustrated when you have a live-in boyfriend who should, theoretically, want to have sex with you. It could be a lot of things. Frankly, I'm sick of being angry. I just don't know how to turn it off.

I'm not even mad at him anymore. I mean, it's easier to be mad at him -- it's always easier when you have someone else to lay the blame on. But, of course, I'm mad at myself. For staying in the relationship long after I knew it was over. For refusing to believe that the later Him was just as much Him as the early Him. For hoping that things would get better when the situation was completely hopeless. Seriously, I should know better. I did know better -- I just forgot for a tragically long time. It doesn't matter if I ever forgive him - he's not a part of my life anymore. But I'm going to be stuck in this same bullshit place until I forgive myself, methinks.

This is why therapy will not work for me. There's no analysis to be done. I know exactly why I feel the way I do, why I do the things I do, what I need to do instead. If anyone wants to give me a kick in the ass (or 20), I'll gladly bend over.