Tourette's Syndrome

Having a broken heart is kind of like having Tourette's Syndrome. It's always there, but sometimes you can hide it for a short time. Other times, it comes out of you involuntarily and makes people stare at you like you are a two-headed freak. Lately I've been pretty lucky, because I've been able to contain it while I'm in public. But it really does hit me when I'm sitting here at home alone. If I did have Tourette's, I'd be screaming the second I walked in my front door and wouldn't stop until I left the next day. It's tiring.

I've noticed lately how this broken heart has really worn me down. I feel like I've aged 10 years since last March. My resistance has also worn down. It has become increasingly difficult to ignore the voices that are constantly trying to trip me up and break me down. They succeed a lot more than they used to. Even other people notice.

I thought about this today while I was in the shower. I looked down at my protruding belly (as it is wont to do lately) and thought how ugly it looked. Thought about the seven million situps I need to do as soon as I got out of the shower to make it go away. Thought about all the things I eat all the time, as if I might starve to death if I don't eat twenty times a day. Thought about how I used to fit into certain clothes, and now even wearing them for five minutes is actually painful. Thought about how ugly me and my stomach are. Thought about how it didn't used to be this way.

But it really was. I've always had this belly, more or less. The only time it leaves is when I'm sick and not eating. It's one of the only things on me that ever changes it's shape, and it changes rapidly. After a large meal, I could tell people I was three months pregnant and it would be believeable (except for the fact that no one would ever have sex with me). In a few hours, it will shrink down to close to normal size. But I'm still aware and self-conscious about it.

I remember I never worried about it with him. Because he seemed to like me exactly as I was. I got the impression that if I were any different, he wouldn't like it, but he also wanted me no matter what. And I sort of got attached to the idea. The idea that if he was ok with me, I was too. But then he wasn't ok with me anymore, and I didn't know what to do. I still don't. I look at myself and wonder what I can change about myself that will make me acceptable again, but so far I haven't found the right incarnation of myself. I haven't found my presentable self. My appealling self. Does she even exist any more?

She's probably in the house ticking and screaming all sorts of things.