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I still love him, even though he hurt me….

I still love him, even though he hurt me….

Goddamn it, I picked up up the phone after 3 weeks of no contact, and called the ex. At 2 am no less. He wasn't sleeping. Neither was I.


Why did I call? Because, no matter how shitty our relationship was, no matter all the crap we went through, no matter how badly and suddenly it ended, I still love him, I still miss him, I still want to be a ‘good girl’ in his eyes. I wanted to speak to him to show him how together I am, how well I’m doing now, even though I am completely falling apart on the inside, and have been for quite some time now.

I want him back. And he is so wrong for me. We were completely incompatible in terms of our life direction, spirituality, goals, personality, you name it. Like oil and water. And I fucked up, all I did was make mistakes, the more I tried to be the perfect girl, the worse I became. And he would say things that would cut me to the bone, like 5 words from him would take me from complete joy to the depths of despair, make me feel 2 inches tall; his words were too too cruel. Nothing I did was right enough for him. And all I did was blame myself.

And he got me sick. Herpes. Like the most virulent strain ever. He lied about being clean. And my vagina had been sick for the last 4 months. I’ve spent over 1000 dollars on seeing doctors and meds. He hasn't offered to pay a penny.

And I’m 35, and terrified that now that I’m sick no one, NO ONE will ever want to be with me again, no one will ever love me. I'm too emotionally labile. I'm too much to handle, too needy, too imperfect, too wrong.


I was single for 13 years before this relationship. Single, celibate, mentally unwell, with a really bad eating disorder (anorexic/bulimic) that I finally got under control more or less just this past year. I spent the last two years on public assistance/food stamps, had to quit grad school, in and out of mental hospital, filed for bankruptcy. All alone, on my own. And the doctors couldn't help with the mental probs, I wrote before in comments on GT how they basically put me on every med that my insurance covered, and none of them worked, and a lot of them made me sicker. SO now that I am flat broke, no money for food, I am still struggling with my disease, and this breakup is just so not helping at all.

And he broke up with me in part because of my mood swings, mood swings that I self-medicated away for years with my eating disorder, mood swings that literally bankrupted me. I'd give anything for a normal emotional range, to be manageable.


My friend told me tonight that I need to go back to a shrink, need to try more meds, and I told her, I believe in God, and I believe in doctors, but I tried, I TRIED SO FUCKING HARD TO GET HELP FOR 2 FUCKING YEARS, and every shrink my insurance covered was HORRIBLE, SO BAD, and EVERY drug they gave to me made me worse, not better. And now I’m broke. How broke? 2 months behind in rent broke, facing eviction broke. I’ve been alone, living on my own for 16 years, and have no fucking clue what I’m going to do. I went 2 days last week without eating, not because I was trying to starve myself again, but because I have finally gotten a part-time job and that meant I can no longer be on food stamps. But I don’t get paid enough to cover bills and food and back rent. It is too stressful, it is too much for one girl.

My ex was abusive at times, although entirely unaware of that fact. He was controlling, and he would belittle me verbally to the point of tears, telling me how bad I looked, how he refused to be seen in public with me until I changed the shoes I was wearing, or the shirt, or the jewelry. He was cruel, in that he thought my pursuit of a graduate degree was stupid and a waste of time, he was heartless, in that he would ridicule my faith in God and my prayers. He demanded perfection in all things, and I am so hopelessly imperfect.


But you know what? When I was with him, I NEVER WENT HUNGRY. He fed me, he liked to see me eat, he liked my newly larger voluptuous body, he liked that I wasn't too thin anymore. He would help me with the rent, so I didn't have to face eviction. He took me places, into nature, biking and swimming. Took me out of the city. And he held me all night when I felt so lonely. And I would cry sometimes, because it felt so fucking good to be touched by another human being. I was starved for touch. And now I am again. All because I was too fucked up, too selfish, too needy, too much me for anyone person to handle.

After 13 years of being alone, struggling alone, that is hard to let go of, this intimate human contact. It’s like I got this little taste of some remote semblance of a normal life, of human companionship, of what it’s like to be able to eat 3 good meals a day and enjoy food again, what it’s like to laugh with someone, what it’s like to make love.


And I’d rather be dead than go back to more years of being alone.

Loneliness isn't a cancer, but it does slowly eat away until there is nothing left inside to hold the pieces together.


And I do want to die, I mean, I’m about to be homeless anyways, my rapid-cycling of my mood swings is only getting worse with no cure in sight, and I have an incurable and devastatingly virulent STI that just won’t quit, exacerbated by my stress and poor eating habits.

What is there to live for?

I pray, I pray so hard, I believe in a Creator Being, a sheer good force of universal life, but She is nowhere to be found. She left me on my own a long time ago.


There is this documentary called “The Bridge” (2006)

which chronicles the suicide jumpers off the Golden Gate for one year. And they interview the families. And I really really understood what it is like. Every family said that they knew for years, they saw their love ones struggle for years with mental problems, not get the help they needed, and finally just figure it was easier on everyone to go away. I get that so completely....

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