Reluctantly crouched at the starting line.

I went to bed at 3:30 this morning and got up at 11. I think I’d be alright if it weren’t for the massive headache of sorts that has obscured the left side of my forehead. Ouch. I should be packing or cleaning or going to the gym, but my headache is currently getting the best of me. Missing my 8 hours of sleep by a half hour seems to have also left me vulnerable to negative and desparaging thoughts. I’m trying not to give into them. Things are not hopeless. God has my solution already; I just don’t know when He’s going to let me figure out what it is.

I feel kind of bad taking this day to pack and recover and workout instead of getting coffee with Patrick, but there’s a lot to get done and very little time to do it. I don’t want to go through any lengthy goodbyes or overly romantic speeches. I don’t want to be touched, and I don’t want my space invaded the way it has continously been for the past three straight days. I’m just not into it. And if I were to hang out with him today, I know how it would go: awkward conversation for a few hours with me trying to appear enthused while trying to keep my distance at the same time and him edging ever closer to me and talking to make up for my lack of talkage. We’d do that for a while, until I would announce that I needed to go home, and he’d be like, “oh. Okay then.” He’d take me back to my house and walk me to my door and probably say something about getting to see me while he was here and all that, to which I would just say something lame like “thanks.” Then we’d hug and he’d say “bye, Sarah” like he’s dissapointed but trying not to let on, and then I’d go into the house. Blargh.

But, today, I have to:

• Finish packing my stuff
• Clean up my room
• Go to the gym and run and do weights
• Probably fit in another form of a workout later
• GET SOME SLEEP AT A DECENT HOUR

And that doesn’t exactly leave time to go out. Any spare time I have, I want to rest and enjoy the quiet while reading my book for counseling.

After thinking about it for a while, I’ve fessed up to myself that it’s not that I don’t want to be touched (well, I don’t to a certain extent- anything that goes beyond kisses, hugs, hand-holding, arm-putting-around, or snuggling is HIGHLY unwanted, trust me)- I just don’t want to be touched by the people I’ve dated (save for Scott, obviously, but he always was a different story). Thanks to Scott, I realize it’s possible to want to be affectionate and romantic with someone because I’ve felt that way before. I just don’t feel that way now. I haven’t met anyone or dated anyone recently that I feel that way about. I do not want my personal space invaded; I am not a cat that needs to be PETTED; and I want room to breathe and move about when I’m standing somewhere. When someone encrouches on that, it hits the panic button in my head and all I want to do is get as far away from them as I can. I am, as Lisa put it, “all or nothing”- it’s either working or it’s not, and I’ve got my running shoes on. I hate coming off as an ice queen because I consider myself empathetic and caring, but with some people, my care and concern for them as people in my life is translated into a larger and very incorrect emotion; the A-bomb in any relationship: the l-word. That’s the “go” signal.