Last Night and This Morning

Last night was bad, real bad. Early this morning I was online in the hopes of catching Mr.3. He seemed to be in good spirits and told me that no one was released last night as his doctor had some kind of emergency. There is supposed to be a lunchtime meeting, but he has given me very little information besides that. Here is the email that I wrote him this morning after our 5 minute online chat:

That was kinda strange this morning, that we managed to meet each other online.

As I said earlier....I feel lost. I don't know how to process this information...holding out hope kills me when it all comes crashing down at a deadline.

I will not apologize for anything that I have written in the past 24 hours. You must remember my position in all of this...and while you have felt that you have given me enough information and don't understand why I can't be satisfied with that...there is a difference between information and for lack of a better term, a story. I meant to tell you ages ago but I read your journal...I read it in an effort to find some clue as to where you are...some clue as to your state of mind. In it, you said several times how you didn't understand why I wouldn't just believe you when you told me about things that were happening...why I wasn't satisfied with what you said. This was in relation to your Charles Schwab account. At first I was so happy to hear that you had a bit of money and that you would be able to pay your bills...and then the figure kept getting bigger and bigger...and you kept getting statement information with no numbers in it. Nothing has come in from Charles Schwab since you left...another instances of your "information" being just a story. There needs to be something solid behind any information that you give me....this takes us back to you giving me bad intel.

And with the past 24 hours I feel that I have been given the same thing again, and I find it incredibly cruel. Even if there was an emergency on DeWitt's part yesterday, you could have tried to call me instead of letting this fester. And after all that we have been through...it still seems as if you are "trying to protect me"...deciding what is appropriate for me to hear. Did we regress?

When I type with you and talk with you...I put on this facade of calm and patience. Actually it is the same facade that I use with everyone else nowadays. I try to be strong for you so that you can get well and come home...under that facade however is a women who is riddled with fear and doubt. Who has legitimate anger and rage that she finds she can't get to express to anyone....because so many depend on her to be strong. While you have made progress I have not....yet I find that I have been placed in this impossible space that I am holding up everyone else about this situation (friends, coworkers, family) that I can't find time to support myself. I feel like I am rotting from within.

I am tired of being riddled with guilt everytime I express my feelings because I worry that it will set your progress back.

I wouldn't even bother dealing with this if I didn't love you as much as I do. I can not conceive life without you as my husband, my lover , and friend. And frankly, I don't know how I haven't completely lost it by now. I fear that I suffer from secondary PTSD (which I still find as a funny phenomenon, but I have all of the symptoms) and I worry that I can't help you if I am in such bad shape. Last night the anxiety and anger and I don't know what really scared me...my heart actually hurt and for a while there I thought that I might need to go to the hospital....I tried to calm myself down, but I am really not sure if I was trying to calm down or wishing that my heart would stop altogether.

I miss you so much...and I want to get better but I can't even start that process until you are home. Please come home and end my misery.

I love you.