Saturday night, the anticipation of which garnered so many words here in the past couple weeks, was an unmitigated disaster. It didn’t help that it was At-This-Time-Last-Year, and that David wasn’t there to keep me from being stupid. I should be convincted of first degree “doing-that-thing-where-you’re-nervous-about-seeing-an-ex(of sorts)-but-you-want-to-pretend-you’re-totally-ok.”

The only moment I am proud of is the moment he walked into the bar. I met his eyes and held them and didn’t look away. “You look really good,” he told me.

“Thank you,” I replied, and didn’t break the stare.

The rest of the night is a string of awfulness. It may not have been as bad as Chicago this past summer, but it was bad.

Basically I feel horrible right now. I am so mad at myself, because I was doing a lot better – or so I thought. He is a trigger for me, obviously, just like HWSNBN was.  I don’t know how I’m going to get through this day – I know I will, but right now it seems so unmanageable and so much bigger than me.