I know he’s gone and he’s not coming back. But I can’t help but feel as though we are still welded together so deeply that I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to let him go. We both had something in common, abuse. Surviving that together gave us a connection that I will never share with anyone. I can’t help but feel like all the cheating and toxic behaviour between us was a result of the abuse we both endured. I can’t stop worrying about him. It’s not that I’m worried about him being with someone else, it’s worrying if he’s OK. I know he probably is but I can’t shake the thought that something awful is happening to him and I won’t know until it’s too late. I’m scared one day I’ll read the news and find out he took his own life. He wasn’t the kind of guy that would speak openly about his feelings. So I guess I’m hoping he’s found someone to speak about his feelings to. I pray for him every night and I think a big part of my worries is my anxiety. Throughout our relationship I would often not hear from him for long periods, several times this would be due to his mother abusing him and taking away his phone. I guess my mind is holding onto that thought. It was a big reason I never left him no matter how much he hurt me, I would always fear for his safety. I only gathered the courage to leave him when he moved 100’s of miles away from home and his mother because I knew he’d finally be safe.
Regardless of how much he hurt me, I would never want any harm to come to him. I understand that I’ve spoken about him on my blog before and honestly all these posts make him sound like 3 different people. I guess he was so many different things, so beautiful yet broken. Of course, it doesn’t mean it excused what he did when cheated but our relationship was more than that of lovers. We were survivors together, best friends and a home to each other. I hope he’s found another home and it makes him feel so much happier than I ever could. I have things to work on within myself, but I guess I’m starting to realise when hurt me it wasn’t because he didn’t love me. It doesn’t take away from our relationship or what we had. Also, I can’t blame him for wanting to move on from. Our memories were made from the darkest moments of our life. To me, this explains why I’m having such a hard time letting go. I spent years looking after him, I never once worried about myself and life my mind would constantly be worrying about him, now I have all of this spare time it’s time to focus on the emotions I’ve deeply neglected within myself and make my dreams come true.
I would really appreciate some advice/tips on how to get the anxiety of worrying about him out of my mind. Thank you for reading
Singing in the shower has always been one of my favourite parts of the day. If I could, I’d spend my whole day singing along to cheesy songs and dancing about in my pyjamas. But last week I just stood in the shower, the music played but my lips didn’t even attempt to move. I knew I hadn’t been feeling the best, but then I realised things were about to get bad again.
When I say bad I mean my depression was getting worse. For me, depression is more than sadness. It’s smiling with your lips, but never with your eyes. It’s the darkness in the sky at night, when you realise how truly alone you are. It’s watching days pass, but nothing gets better or changes. It’s dragging your feet out of bed and feeling like there is not a drop of life in you or your body. It’s trying to convince yourself that there is a purpose and that things are going to get better, but not believing a single word of it. It’s your friends not knowing where you are for weeks, sometimes months at a time. But it happens so often that people have stopped looking or wondering about you. It’s looking at the hollow shell of the human you’ve become in disgust, realising no one could ever hate you more than you hate yourself. It’s fantasising about ending it all, thinking of the perfect way to do it. It’s writing letters to your family and friend, in case you actually find the courage to.
So I’ve come to realise perhaps I’m not as o.k as I convince myself I am. When my psychiatrist asks if I’m planning to end my life, I smile at her and reassure her that the idea hasn’t entered my brain. A part of me hopes she’ll see through my smile and tell me she know’s it’s a lie. But in reality I’m just another name and she’s so overworked that I don’t think the thought even enters her brain. Or is that I’m just so convincing? My whole family are convinced, heck so are my friends. They think I’m some thrill seeker who disappears on adventures, in reality I just lock myself up in my house and then reappear with perfectly applied makeup and an even faker smile. I’m becoming convinced people ask you if you’re o.k, but don’t really want to know if you’re not.
So then I ask myself, do I drop the act or keep pretending. How long can I keep this up and how long can I keep it together? I mean honestly, the reason I don’t ask for help is the fact that I’m scared. If I open up to someone and they don’t care anyway I think that would push me over the edge. Sounds stupid, but my friends and family are my only hope in my mind. A bit, like a secret weapon which I’ll only ever use out of sheer desperation.
But for now, goodbye until my next post. Thank you for reading, I enjoy writing out my feelings. It helps me put things into context better, I know I’m going to be o.k. It’s just sometimes I feel like I’m trying to climb a plastic rope that is covered in oil.
Until next time
it might not feel like it right now, but you will be. Take a deep breath and tell yourself that. Wipe away the tears that are streaming down your cheeks and tell yourself no matter what you’re going to make it. It won’t hurt forever, at least not this bad. You’ve just got to patient with yourself, let yourself grieve and heal from the pain you’re feeling. Being sad is ok, but giving up is not. Give yourself the time you need and listen to your body. Do the things that you love and spend time treating yourself to the things that once made you happy. Wear the things that make you feel comfortable, keep warm and eat. If that is all you do today, know that is enough.
Just something I tell myself when I need to hear it, I hope you’re all doing ok and if you’re not feel free to contact me. I’ll be more than happy to do anything I can to offer advice or support for those that need it, just know that you’re not alone
Being an Asian female, I’m constant bombarded with questions about when I’m going to get married. Honestly I don’t think I ever will. As much as I hate myself feeling like this, I feel as though I would be betraying you for even entertaining the thought. It’s stupid because you cheated on me so many times when you had me. I still miss you, all the time. Not that I would ever admit it to you. When an Asian aunt mentions how their son and me would make a great match I can just feel my face freeze and I immediately try not to cry. It’s stupid because that’s all I seem to do. It’s like I couldn’t live with you, but living with out you is proving equally impossible. You were my first love, my only love. I don’t think I can give my heart away to anyone else. No one even knows I’m sad, I’ve become too good at faking a smile for anyone to ever question it. I feel like I’m mourning your death, but I’m the one it’s killing. The thought of moving on without you is killing me, but I guess it’s what I have to do. I pray that I find the strength to move on or at least to stop being such a damn mess. Until then, my smudged mascara can become a smoky eye instead.
Living at home as a child was always the wildest roller-coaster, the ups and downs always left me confused. How could it be that my parents would argue and scream at the top of their lungs and then 10 minutes later be laughing with each other as though nothing had ever happened. I completely understand that a lot of couples argue, but the way my parents argued made me think the world was ending. They would scream at the top of their lungs, hurling abuse at each one another and my mother would be hysterically sobbing. Seeing them interact with each other now, I can sense the same toxic patterns in them. It puzzles me that they’ve stayed together for long and not actually killed each other.
Don’t get me wrong I adore my mum and dad and appreciate all they’ve done for me, but their relationship is far from ideal. Some of my siblings act in a very similar way to my parents. My older sister would often physically assault me as a child and then pretend nothing had happened. If anything, she would then get angry at me for bleeding on the floor. She would then continue to run around and act as though she had done nothing, without an ounce of guilt. This would all be whilst I cried in pain. Unfortunately, she’s still stuck in the same mental state and still refuses to apologise to people when she verbally abuses them and expects things to go back to normal automatically. I’ve pondered on these thoughts for the longest time, am I the issue? Is it normal for people to treat each other like this and then suddenly act normal with no apology or remorse? Should I have just let my sister physically assault me and got over it? I refuse to believe that this is an actual ‘normal’ thing to happen.
I would love to hear some opinions, is this an actual thing that happens in healthy families? Am I being over dramatic or over sensitive?
Thank you for reading!
A love like ours is the kind of love people write stories about, but not the romantic kind that have a happy ending. It’s the kind of love that has you crying and screaming into your pillow. I’m still not sure if I wanted the pillow to suffocate my screams or me.
Before we met I was so used to not feeling anything, so feeling something with you was the first time I had felt alive in years. We were only 16, I can’t really blame you for not knowing how fragile I was. I thought you were so much more than I deserved, I guess that is telling of how much I thought of myself. You would leave me when times got tough and beg for you to return. This carried on for nearly 7 years, I honestly lost count of the times you left or cheated on me after it passed 10. I didn’t blame you for doing it, a part of me still doesn’t. We were the epitome of toxic. You would hurt me and leave, convincing me that I could make you stay if I did the things you wanted me to. You would say “a man has his needs” and remind me that you had so many other girls waiting to give you what I supposedly couldn’t. I despise myself for not realising sooner that I deserved so much than your second choice, heck I wasn’t even your second choice more of a last resort.
For some reason I still can’t seem to blame you completely. I think it’s because I see you for what you are now, a scared little boy. Like me, you were broken. Love wasn’t something you’d ever felt and the amount I had to give you frightened you. You weren’t willing to let me touch your heart so you’d push me away and break me so I would love you less. You came back into life my begging for another chance after I wrote a post about you, I’m sure it was the universe trying to teach me you don’t belong in my future. You sounded so sad for what you had done and how you had treated me. I found that strange, you never felt bad when you would scream abuse at me and call me fat and I would break down into tears begging for you to stop. How about the time you picked up a call from another girl whilst I sat in your car and listened to you tell her the same stupid lies I had fallen for over and over. You said you wanted another chance, I guess 7 years of them weren’t enough? I hate to hear you be sad, but honestly your feelings are no longer my responsibility like I had felt they were for so long. You’re no longer a little boy. You tell me you’re a man, so why is it after talking to me for a matter of 10 minutes you needed to brag about the girls who apparently pursue you?. HA. More fool me for believing you’d ever change. I hate myself for feeling sad and still missing you sometimes. I never trusted or had a relationship before you so I guess that’s why. Despite missing you I know I will never go back there. You’d call me mental and state that my mental illness caused me to be a paranoid freak because I’d accuse you of cheating on me. Then months later admit it and tell I was lucky you were so honest with me. I guess I felt like you were the only guy who would ever love me, but now I realise you never did love me. To me you are the finest drug an addict can ever get their hands on, but the highs could never make up for the crushing lows. Even though I lost you, I think I could finally be on the verge of finding myself
As hard as this is to write, I’m not ok. I’m overwhelmed with sadness and don’t want to face the world but I know I’m going to have to.
It all started last week when I opened my eyes last week but the first that came into my mind was “I wish I never lived to wake up”. I’ve spent years battling with my mental state of mind, Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to die. Not really.. but living like this isn’t working for me anymore. I’ve spent years in therapy, trying various medications and I honestly can not cope anymore. The constant spiral of going downhill and having to scrape what is left of me off the sides of my corpse just to get back up and fall into feeling like this within a matter of weeks. I’m not living and right now and I’m not sure I’m coping. The worst thing is nothing has even happened, it’s just the way I am. Unable to function without having various meltdowns on a monthly basis. I’m tired feeling like this. I need space. I feel as though I am suffocating, the worst part is I am the one suffocating myself. I need space from myself.
I don’t want this post to alarm anyone, I know I’ll be fine. I feel stupid and ungrateful for even feeling this way.