Ok, maybe Iím not quite ready to end the personal entries, yet. My brain and personality go through cycles, you know.

The past few days, Iíve been thinking about something and when Iíve been thinking about something for awhile, I like to write about it.

Sunday was Renoir and early in the exhibit thereís a little portrait of Madam Renoir (his wife), from when they first met. The headset commentator talked about how the portrait was meant as a snapshot, to remember an early outing together in the woods, rather than a work of art. It was very romantic, this little painting, made during a very beginning stage of a lifelong relationship, and still surviving today.

That wasnít what I was thinking about, though.

After Renoir, I was desperate for a nap. My sleep deprivation has been slowly getting worse and worse over the past couple of months. I knew I was reaching my breaking point.

I couldnít nap at Adamís, though. I think he must have the most uncomfortable bedroom in the city, never mind the snoring.

After attempting to nap for too long, I decided that I was going home. I was groggy and on the verge of hallucination from exhaustion (Iím not sure I wasnít). Adam didnít think it was safe for me to drive. I have to admit, driving at that moment wouldnít have been the safest activity in the world, but I was going home, anyway.

I put on my shoes and while putting on my scarf, Adam picked me up and hung me over his shoulder, so I was upside-down. I think he was talking at the time, but I have no idea what he said because I was completely freaked out. I asked him what he was doing, then he walked into the living room (which has several large windows across the front) and for some reason, this terrified me.

I started asking him to put me down, but he continued talking and I still have no idea what he said. I burst into tears and said, ďPLEASE PUT ME DOWN!!Ē

He put me down immediately and started apologizing profusely. Worse yet, I couldnít stop crying. I was absolutely humiliated that I had lost it.

I am not one to burst into tears or sob uncontrollably. The last time I cried was probably mid-summer (other than crying from watching a movie or from happiness).

The entire next day, I was disturbed by my reaction, but even just remembering the experience made me feel scared and weepy again.

I told Suzanne about it and she laughed and scoffed and said I was just tired.

Iím also not one to be too bothered by physical danger. I dive, I fight, I hike; I walk outside in Philadelphia.

After I sobbed uncontrollably, Adam kept reassuring me that heíd never hurt me. At the time, it didnít even occur to me that it was related to trust.

I donít think Iíve ever realized before how complex trust is. It isnít black and white. You donít suddenly decide one day to trust someone, all the trust in the world magically appears. It could be a lifelong process.

It was the next day before I realized that he was trying to help me, not hurt me. It never occurred to me that he was concerned for my safety. After things like Neil insisting that I drive 7 hours in freezing rain, and my ex-husbands, ďYou almost died? You didnít actually die, did you? So, whatís your problem?Ē Something else takes some getting used to.

Tired or not, my reaction was my most instinctual one, at the time, and being robbed of control felt like the worst thing that could ever happen to me.

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Wednesday, Dec. 19, 2007 at 12:22 AM