I didn't sleep last night thinking about yesterday's post. I haven't thought about S.G. in any kind of depth in a long time. As I wrote last night I realize how much I miss what we had together. Of all the boyfriends that I have had he was the most affectionate, thoughtful, and caring. There was a Valentine's Day present that he gave me that is still one of the most wonderful gifts I have ever been given. I miss him.

When S.G. broke up with me I was fine for two weeks. Then I lost it at work and had to go home. I spent the rest of the day crying in bed. If the truth were told, I spent the next six months in bed crying. I became depressed, desolate, and desperate. I told myself that I would do anything to get him back and thus began the long painful journey of getting over the relationship.

I found myself unable to function in any capacity. Luckily the restaurant I was working for at the time was understanding. I would go to work and break down into tears. I would come home and immediately go to bed and cry for hours. As the days went by the feeling got worse. I didn't know it at the time but I was in the midst of a Romantic Obsession. I refused to let him go.

I don't know how to write about this without sounding completely nuts. But in truth at the time I probably was nuts. In the months that followed I felt depression like I had never known it before or since. I was fixated on who S.G. was with. Who he was spending time with. Did he have another boyfriend. He had a good friend that lived on the second floor of the house we had rented. He would come to visit her and I would pray that he would stop to see me. I would call him at all hours of the night. Many times I was able to convince to stop by and see me. This only made things worse because when he left I became distraught. I began to follow him. I would park across the street from his parents house to find out what time he came home. I would call him at school at all times during the day. I was becoming his own Fatal Attraction.

There were days that I was on the verge of suicide. I would take sleeping pill after sleeping pill trying to go to sleep. They never seemed to work. I would lay for hours watching the time go by one minute after another. I would bang my head against the wall trying to get the emotional pain to go away. I threw things. At one point almost every dish I had in my kitchen was broken. I would take the glass from the broken items and cut my palms with them. I didn't bathe. I didn't eat. At it's worst I went two weeks without leaving my apartment and without leaving my bed.

These feelings went on for months. In April of that year a friend of mine and S.G.'s committed suicide. Of all the people I have ever known she was the one I would have suspected it from the least. She loved everyone and everyone loved her. She was always happy and made everyone happy. She was a beautiful human being. After her death, I began to think more seriously about my own death. It was as if she had given me permission to end things. In a fit of desperation I called my therapist, whom I had not seen in months, at home on a Saturday. This was at the end of the two weeks in bed. I told her I needed help and if things didn't change I didn't think I would make it. We talked for about 30 minutes. She told me to get out of bed and shower. She told me to clean up part of the kitchen, and then to reward myself by doing something good like going to the movies. I did this. At this point I was willing to do whatever it took to make the pain stop.

Believe it or not during this entire ordeal I had managed to interview for a job, I still don't know how. As luck would have it I got the job and it forced me to move to Cincinnati. In July of that year I moved and S.G. was a thing of the past. We talked sporadically. I still longed for him but the debilitating anguish was gone. I still had evenings where I cried myself to sleep but slowly I was becoming normal again.

In December I met K.A. We hit it off from the moment we met and within a couple of weeks we were inseparable. I still thought about S.G. but I was moving on with my life.

I still haven't gotten to the reason we don't talk. However, giving the back story has been very therapeutic. As I have said the depression I felt after our breakup was the most intense I have ever known. It still keeps me on edge. I am convinced that just around the corner the possibility of reliving it exists. I will do anything to make sure I never relive the pain that I experienced in the early months of 1995.

Tomorrow I will continue the story.