Guess I'll go eat worms

Miriam didn't show up for our first session last night. I feel like a jilted lover.

Yesterday went something like this:

• 6 a.m. -- Wake up.
• 6:01 a.m. -- Start worrying.
• 8:55 a.m. -- Get to work. Worry.
• 9 a.m.-5 p.m. -- Work (and worry).
• 5:07 p.m. -- Decide to go out for boba with Jeremy, who I haven't seen in four years.
• 5:30 p.m. -- Leave for the cafe.
• 5:40 p.m. -- Get stuck in traffic. Fight off panic.
• 6 p.m. -- Get to cafe. Order large mango-pineapple boba.
• 6:04 p.m. -- Start babbling about random crap because I'm worried and panicky.
• 7:04 p.m. -- Still babbling about random crap because I'm worried and panicky. Fortunately, he's a good listener.
• 7:32 p.m. -- Finally slow down long enough to let him, you know, mention what he's been doing the last four years. Can't keep mouth shut long. Draw pictures on the table with my finger.
• 7:40 p.m. -- Realize I'm running late (!) for my appointment. Hurry to car.
• 7:55 p.m. -- Get to psych center ... and start waiting for Miriam.
• 8:30 p.m. -- Give up waiting for Miriam; call hubby. Then call Jeremy. Then end up crashing his dinner with a mutual friend. I think after feeling abandoned by my doctor (who I PAY to listen to me), I didn't really want to be alone.

The whole situation -- no, the whole day -- stressed me out so bad that I took a Klonopin to bring me down. Yeah, it hurt that my therapist bailed on me. But it hurt worse to realize that I let it get under my skin, let it get to the point where I didn't want to be around anyone, but didn't feel like I should be alone.

I was very proud of myself for seeing Jeremy, but it was far from easy. I mean, I think I would have rather hidden in my office than see someone who knew me when I was normal. I feel so vulnerable now, and I don't like it one bit.

I wonder if he noticed me drawing on the table with my finger, just trying to keep my hands busy so I didn't go crazy. I wonder if he noticed I didn't make eye contact (I just can't yet). And I wonder if he knows me as well as he thinks he does -- over dinner, I mentioned a mutual friend who had suffered mental and physical conditions similar to mine. He said she had taken it harder than me. I told him I thought I just hid it better.

I suppose after all this time -- and now I'm married and he's married -- he can't reconcile what I say with what I mean (and what I'm hiding). Or maybe he just doesn't feel comfortable pushing the situation yet.

Of course, it goes both ways. We talked about his navy years, and I asked why he didn't like it as much as he hoped. He said he had learned about the "submarine lifestyle" -- being gone for 10 out of 12 months, et cetera ad nauseum. That was the bull answer, the pat answer he gives everybody whom he doesn't shut out completely. Did I know there was something else he wasn't telling me? Of course. Did I push for more information? Not yet.

Anyway, I'm waiting now for Miriam to call -- I hope she's okay and not like dead or anything. I'll post more when I know something.