Raindrops.

Why does driving in the rain make you think?

Yesterday was a rainy winter day that felt quite warm. Leaving work, I was surrounded by the drip-drop all around me. My car felt like a little cave. And my mind wouldn’t let up.

The song that Ben and I deemed “our song” came on the radio on my drive. Then Counting Crows’ “Long December”. Then Oasis’ “Wonderwall.” What is this, God? A think tank you created for me?

In the last few days, I found myself lost in the memories of Ben and I. I have flashes of something here and there and I grip my sweater or close my eyes tight.

We are at his championship soccer game. It’s near zero degrees and the wind is blowing. The younger soccer girls and I are huddled together watching Ben and his housemates. We are all freezing friends, even though they have never really spoken to me. But we huddle close, clutching our “Go John!”, “D-FENCE”, and “Soc’ it to them!” signs. My teeth shiver and I wonder how Ben is playing in this weather with just shorts and a sweat-soaked long sleeve on, much less how he is scoring so many goals.

Then we are at a party at his house. The boys nicknamed their home “The [Agro]Crag” after a Nickelodeon game show icon. They decide to throw a “Crag Prom”. Each guy is asked to invite a girl and dress like it’s the prom. I am in a slinky coral red dress with all sorts of ties in the back that remind me of espadrilles. Some of my sorority sisters are there. We drink, we laugh, we pose like we are really at the prom–despite the fact that we are least two years removed from high school.

Suddenly I am in The Crag on the couch with Ben’s ridiculous soccer-player housemates on a warm spring night. They invited some of those younger soccer girls over and we are playing Catch Phrase. Ben correctly guesses my clues: “Kill Two Birds with One Stone.” We are unstoppable. I hurl the Catch Phrase over to the next person and wink at Ben from across the living room.

And then we are in bed, just laying there. We broke up months ago but I can’t stand to sleep without him. I feel different without him. I feel emptier–despite the fact that my anorexia that year has already left me empty both physically and emotionally. I don’t let him into my disease or my thoughts, for fear of being too vulnerable, too weak. Instead I lay there quietly. I close my eyes and hope that tomorrow is better.

I’m at another party and he’s with his new girlfriend. My heart does that thing where it feels like its jumping high and then falling into your stomach. I think I’m going to hurl. Without my coat or scarf, I launch myself out the nearest door and into the Pittsburgh winter night. Sobbing profusely on the street.

I can’t make sense of much right now. My brain travels around and around, back and forwards in time, from here to Chicago to Pittsburgh to Tampa. I say Sean when I mean Ben and I throw myself around my apartment. My dreams display people morphing into animals and lots of rain and lots of snow.

I can’t slow it down.

About these ads

About factorymaid

I am a 20-something living in Rural, USA. As an engineer for a worldwide famous consumer products company, I manage million-dollar projects in a manufacturing environment. I like to write about what it's like to be a woman in a factory of men. But there's a lot more to me than my career. I have a very storied past. Check out my "About Me" section and my blog posts to find out more! Enjoy! :)

Posted on January 31, 2013, in Anorexia, Depression, Love, Relationships, Sex, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

What are your thoughts? I want to know!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 157 other followers

%d bloggers like this: