Me and Steve went to Alton Towers yesterday. I went on loads of rides loads of times - which didn't stop him calling me chicken for not going on Oblivion or Nemesis. I didn't mind about Oblivion because I genuinely didn't want to do it out of fear - it would have been too much like the 'falling' nightmares I sometimes have. But Nemesis was different - I didn't want to go on because after loads of rides (we'd done Corkscrew, Rita Queen of Speed, that stupid screwball thing, and Air a few times each) my neck and back were sore, and I knew I couldn't take any more throwing around. Which was why I didn't mind doing Air a few more times - you are kind of supported all the way. I suppose he forgets I'm 43, so I reminded him, and pointed out that most women my age were sitting out all the 'big' rides, not doing them all several times in succession.
Reading one of Lucrezia's posts I found myself thinking how unlike her I am. She was talking about how it would be a relief to feel nothing. I can't cope with nothingness. I have to feel something, anything, even if it is fear, or hate or sorrow or despair. ANYTHING is better than nothing.
When I met my ex-husband, I had a period where I had panic attacks and repeated severe bouts of depression (yet I never made the connection!). I used to yearn to feel nothing, which was why I tried to kill myself - I didn't want to be dead, but I wanted to stop feeling. I wonder if that's why I'm like this now?
I look at the way I live now, and it is as though I've tried to recapture the time when I was most happy - job I loved, brilliant social life, alcoholic heroin addict brother who was fantastic company most of the time and a complete and utter pain in the arse the rest of the time. It's like instead of processing what's happened and moving forwards, I've tried to erase part of my life and hop back.
I don't feel middle-aged. I look at men my age and can't imagine being with any of them. I'd turn down George Clooney for being too old. I have all these years of experience and can give excellent advice to others, but my own life is something I can't be sensible about because only doing stupid things feels right.
I threw Steve out on Friday night because he spat in my face. More than the violence or the nasty comments, that made me think he had no respect for me. I let him take me out to a flash restaurant on Saturday night, and after he'd done the usual begging and pleading I said things would be ok again.
I need to grow up, because I'm getting tired of this game.
