Anxiety

I’ll be honest. I’m sick with anxiety. Literally, physically, ill. My stomach hurts and rumbles with it. My heart flutters when I think about it, when I think about my upcoming trip. I alternate between wanting to see W with an intensity that borders on obsessive to not wanting to see him at all before I go.
Because he knows what’s going to happen there. He knows and he hasn’t said a word and I know that it will be humiliating and just on the edge of not-okay, and I don’t want him to know it all before it even happens.
I know this is part of the game. It makes it that much worse, not knowing exactly what is going to happen, but knowing that W knows, and isn’t saying. And the other part of it? It’s knowing what this kind of play involves, and knowing that W knows and will be thinking of me…enjoying…that kind of play.  That’s what makes me want to hide from him. I don’t know if I want him to think of me at all “like that,” like I was last time. Does he think I am disgusting and wrong for having enjoyed it? For having enjoyed being humiliated in that way? That is why I can almost not bear seeing him.  Having him look at me and be thinking about it, about what a dirty, nasty girl I am for even wanting to go there again, after last time…
And yet there is this huge part of me that wants so much to curl up with him and have him tell me it’s all okay before I go there. That he’ll still love me when I get back, no matter what I do or allow to be done to me.
And so anxiety spins around inside of me and I spin around inside of it, endless circles.