So. I am fighting my urge to isolate completely. I did get invited out to a movie night at my friend’s apartment, but I have had a lot of random crying spells over the past few days so it’s hard to be around a bunch of people I don’t know really well or trust. I broke down sobbing after two glasses of wine at a dinner party thing that was just me and two other girls on Friday which made me want to crawl into a hole. It’s been about three weeks since ex and I broke up.
One thing I’ve realized over the past few days is I have no idea what a “healthy” response to a relationship ending really looks like. I guess that’s what I am trying to figure out now on my own. I haven’t called in sick to a work a bunch. I haven’t spent exorbitant amounts of money that I don’t have. I am not drinking to excess. I am not trying to catch a rebound on Tinder or OKC (not saying that’s necessarily unhealthy for everyone, but for me, I always feel like shittier shit when I’m out there trying to get with someone new right away even for just casual funtimes. I take relationships and sex way too seriously and my heart gets really bruised if I try to get back out there too soon, and I’ve had a history with looking for validation in the wrong places.) I haven’t called him. I haven’t drunk texted him. I haven’t trashed him to anyone we know mutually, but I also haven’t totally hidden away my pain or sorrow when someone asks me how I am doing. At my volunteer job, where he also works occasionally, I have remained professional.
Some days, I feel like I am doing really well, and everything makes sense. I know why we broke up. I know it was what’s best for me, I know he would have just drug me down further and held me back because he is not nearly at the level of emotional maturity I would require from a serious partner. I realize he tried to bait and switch in a way by telling me he was so ready for this, his first real serious relationship, and then freaking the fuck out when he saw that it was going to require him to be a mature adult man. With everything he has said to me and the stories he has tried to weave, that’s what it really boils down to for me. He had these strong emotions but couldn’t walk the walk to back them up. He refused to deal with his fears and insecurities. He continually refuses to look at the shitty behaviors he engaged in because he thinks he can justify it by saying we were better off friends, he didn’t really feel any passion or romance towards me, or that he’s “going through a really hard time” with his depression stuff, despite the fact that he wouldn’t talk to me or anyone else about it, wouldn’t see his therapist, and was fucking around with his medication because of the effects on his sex drive. If he didn’t feel passion, what was the shit he was feeling when he would grab the back of my head when he kissed me? Or the times that we were in bed together and he’d look deep into my eyes and I just knew beyond a shadow of a doubt he had to be feeling what I was, and he’d admit to as much whenever I called him out on it? Why did he break down into tears when I told him I just thought he was terrified and looking for any reason to jump ship? What the fuck was all of that? And I feel like he thinks it’s just going to be easier with the next girl and he won’t have to address any of the same stuff, and that he has no idea what he has walked away from.
I’m just so fucking angry that it’s me who is left with all of the hurt feelings, confusion, doubt, loss, heartbreak, frustration, and questioning. Either I was being fucking led on this entire time or all of his reasons for walking away are a way for him to dodge his own fears and accountability. Regardless, he got what he wanted. He got to leave me behind, and I’m having a hard time believing he ever cared even one solitary fucking ounce for how easy it’s been for him to just bound away from the whole thing. Five years of friendship down the fucking toilet, and I don’t think I can ever trust him ever again, even though I miss him so much that it feels like I am going to break in half.
He was supposed to be somebody that I could trust more than anyone, we felt so natural together, we wanted all the same things out of life, we had chemistry, we had emotional intimacy and he threw it all away, for what? I don’t even know. I don’t think he even knows.
I wish I felt more optimistic about my future in dating, but maybe that is just going to come with time.
I bought myself wine and flowers with my tips tonight. I’m going to try to find some sad movies on netflix tonight and hopefully ride the wave of tears to the end. I’ve been trying to choke down my sadness for awhile since I thought I was making progress and having breakthroughs. Something I remembered today was how ever since I was a teenager, I have always had a hard time allowing myself to mourn or be sad over things. That wasn’t okay in my household, even though grief basically ate my whole family alive, it wasn’t okay for me to express it. My mom buried two husbands and let her life basically crumble. I have a better understanding of why now that I’m adult. I can’t imagine suffering that kind of loss TWICE before age 35. But, as a kid all I saw was how that neglect for herself spilled over and became neglect towards me. She didn’t work again until she was in her mid 40’s. The rest of that time she spent zonked out on pills. The message I think I gathered from all of this is “being sad ruins your life.” I still feel guilty deep down if I spend more than an extra hour in bed on the weekends. I feel like garbage for not being as efficient at work or for wanting to hole away and cry at night. I’m trying to be kinder to myself and allow myself mourning time. It’s just so hard.