Anxiety Galore

You know, I KNOW I made the right decision. But yesterday Greg kept trying to change my mind. He is DESPERATE! I just can't deal with it, but it has gotten to the point where I shut off the cell phone because I just don't want to talk to him. I don't want to get texts from him. It's not that I hate him. I just don't want to be pushed into trying to be with him again and being just friends isn't going to work for either of us because I know he's always going to want more and I will never be able to meet his needs. But my anxiety is getting to the point where I look at the phone and I get an anxiety attack. I hear loud music and a car pull up, I think it's him and it has NOTHING to do with him hurting me. I just don't want to deal with him anymore. I don't hate him. I just want it over and I don't want to hurt him anymore and I don't want him to trying to push me into being with him. I have already said no I don't know how many times and given how many reason and done it over and over again . . . It just doesn't sink in. He is so afraid of being alone and without me. It's no wonder he had psycho . . . He is so needy. To be honest, he needs someone needy . . . like he is . . . just not as psychotic. I just don't need him the way he needs me. He has NO other friends and I can't deal with that. It's like I am all he has and he needs to be able to make new friends. I have told him this before . . . He has to get and make new friends. I can't be the center of his universe - especially when I'm the only one in it!!

But this anxiety is getting bad. It's actually creeping into my dreams. Last night I had nothing but anxiety dreams over and over again. I don't remember much except that there was a lot of anxiety. It faded as I woke up with gritty eyes. Its to the point where I feel sick to my stomach . . . Not like nauseous, but like someone socked me in the stomach, you know?

Anyway, time to start getting ready for therapy and heading to Jason and Susan's . . . Hopefully the anxiety will ease . . . but who knows . . .