"Stop the madness"

Yesterday, not thirty seconds after I spotted Manhattan out the airplane window, my head started to pound and by the time I got home an hour later, it hurt so badly all I could do was drop my bags and take three Tylenol P.M. and go to bed. And get up ten minutes later to throw up. And then go back to bed, verrry carefully trying not to shake my head, and sleep for thirteen hours.

What I am realizing:
1. The way a person chooses to live isn't separate from who that person is. It means nothing to say that I love Robert but hate this situation because the way he treats me, the way he acts, isn't external. That's part of who he is.
2. People do what they want, consciously or subconsciously. I don't even know quite what that applies to but it seems like a big deal to me (or, at least, it did when I had a migraine). None of us are simply creatures of circumstance and fate. We do what we want.
3. Robert and I might break up. I'm saying it out loud for the first time.
4. I still love him more than anyone. I still can't imagine not living with him, not spending Christmas with him, not looking forward to hearing his voice everyday.
5. This sadness that I think we both feel isn't something that can be solved with words.

I told him today that I don't want us to talk for a few days, or see each other for awhile. I just don't have anything else to say. If he doesn't love me enough to marry me, why should I believe him when he says he's certain he wants us to spend the rest of our lives together? Why should I trust that he wouldn't wake up one day, five years from now when we have a crying baby, and say, "This doesn't feel right to me"? I have to keep reminding myself of these things because the truth is that I miss him horribly. I miss him, I love him, I'm still convinced, in so many ways, that he is perfect, that we are perfect for each other.

I just don't see how feeling so bad could possibly be good for me.