Maybe I'm too sensitive

Anyone who has spent any time around me knows I wear my emotions really close to the surface. I may roll around stone faced and clutch to logic like it was mothers milk. But my emotions rule me, I make no bones about it.

But there are certain things that totally overwhelm me and lead to me scurrying away and hiding out until I can get a grip of myself.

Today I was to attend Stuff Magazine's Cool List launch party. I love media parties and the venue was fantastic. (it was really high up on my list of places to go.

But then I got a Facebook friend request from The Ex.

Oh my did that throw me. in 30 mins I went through every conceivable emotion it was possible to have.

She's the one I'll never get over. Not because I still love her but because she was the most destructive influence in my life. Outweighing cigarettes, alcohol and fast food by a country mile. That's not funny but when things hurt I always try to throw stupid jokes out to deflect. In my brief bursts of therapy they've always pulled me up on it.

She brought me to the very deepest depths of depression and when I was at my lowest ebb tried to convince me to kill myself. Were I not the person I am I suppose I could have been tipped over the edge but logic, ambition and two very dear friends helped me through.

But after a year something so simple can still shake me to the very core. I was never this weak before but she was one of the few girls I dated that was as smart and manipulative as me. Which meant she studied my armour, my self discipline and took it apart, piece by piece.

And I've never quite got back to where I once was. Despite the great job, fantastic flat and a great future ahead of me.

She still has power over me and that is the saddest thing I can possibly envisage. But that is why I have wine. And I plan to enjoy every drop. Or try to at least make a solid go of it.

Maybe I'm too sensitive, maybe I let myself exist inside my own head too much or maybe, just maybe I choose the wrong people to open up to. Like you, my dearest reader.

Some day I'll tell you the whole story. But I suppose some decent part of me still want's to spare her the embarrassment of public disclosure. Or my uptight Britishness prevents me from airing my dirty (read filthy) laundry in public.

Maybe I'll set up a separate blog for that.