Disclaimer: I wrote this between 2-4 am. I am tired, but sober. I know it is too long to read. I don't even think I meant for it to be read, I just started typing without logical flow or progression, I just needed these thoughts to come out.
In place of present events, I think I'll do a recap. You know how every show has one episode where it repeats everything for people who missed the beginning? Well, this is my version. Don't flatter yourself though, because this isn't for you. Writing things lets me re-analyse them, maybe find some more answers.
Anyhow,
I feel a bit better this past week, or maybe past couple days, I don't keep tight watch of these kind of things, I just know I didn't come ranting to the blog, so that's a good sign, I guess. Just letting it out, putting it somewhere else, anywhere else, is helpful. I'm not even concerned if no one reads it, or worse, that no one cares. I've always been accustomed to relying on only myself, hiding from or pushing others away to protect myself.
It started with not trusting either of my parents, caught between two people who care only about hurting each other isn't a very trusting or stable place to try and become a mentally stable individual. My mom was too busy preoccupied with trying to find a new man and being angry at my dad, while my dad lived thousands of kilometers away. So I learned to hide whatever I wanted inside without needing anyone else, or so I thought. It was more like acid eating away at me from the inside, thinking I was safe and protected from enemies while my insides burned to ashes.
It was here that I taught myself horrible coping mechanisms, there was so much hurt that I had no idea how to get rid of. When I was around 14 the poison started to affect me a lot. All I thought about was dying because I had not even the faintest clue how to function any other way, and there was no way I was going to continue living like that. I spent a lot of time listening to "emo" music because I wasn't able to put my feelings into words, I had thrown them deep inside, somewhere even I couldn't see at the time. So instead they manifested into moping, depression, thoughts of self-mutilation, desperation, but I refused to get real help and was convinced I wasn't different compared to others. That my childhood was normal and I was just like everyone else, therefore I was sad because I was missing something that other's had. That it was a problem that could be fixed by changing something in my external life.
I put a significant amount of hope into girls, that they were the cure to the mysterious disease that ravaged my mind. Unfortunately, in my current state I only attracted girls who were equally messed up, and commenced a three year roller coaster that was filled with dysfunction, obsession, control, manipulation, just two messed up teens. It distracted me because I was able to put 100% of my focus into trying to fix her, I could pretend I was healthy, simply because I had no obvious symptoms.
Not to bad mouth or blame her. I was passive, secretive, I enabled her. I learned a great deal about others but also she forced me to look into myself despite my heavy resistance. I started realizing that maybe I wasn't as normal as I wanted to be, that what happened had shaped me in very significant ways that aren't typical, especially for a child. After three years with her I began to strengthen and find my own footing, but the lessons were few and didn't prepare me for the future.
The breakup was confusing and I avoided dealing with it as much as possible, telling myself and everyone that it had no effect on me, that I had come to a logical conclusion and there could be no pain once I had that. Just like before I let the pain slowly poison me instead of safely disposing of it. I had only been hiding from the pain before her, and losing the distraction forced the pain from before to comeback, but with three years worth of interest, plus this new pain from the breakup. I had put the most time into her and although had some other friends, relied mostly on my socialization from her.
On top of that I had just graduated High School and lost touch with a lot of "friends" who I thought I was close to. Despite my texts and calls and trying to plan things, they just didn't want me in their life, so I lost everyone I could talk to. Meanwhile, I took a year off and started a new job at J&H.
These days were absolutely unbearable, everyday was hopeless. I thought about dying every second, but managed to paint this great smile on my face constantly. I began self-mutilation, and it was the best coping mechanism for instant happiness. Bruises and blood would send a rush of endorphins, for seconds I was fixed. And like any drug, you get desensitized to it, so I had to do it more frequently and more intense to keep the suicide at bay. I wasn't ready and didn't have a clear plan or note ready, so I fought them off as best I could, which meant this physical manifestation. All my hurt was internal, and it felt fake if it was merely my thoughts, so I made sure it became real on the outside as well.
Here, 6 months after ending the last relationship, I had become involved in another broken girl, this time from work. The infamous Cassie, the main reason this blog started. She was 2 1/2 years younger and had a worse childhood than I had and I thought she was at a mental stage that I used to be at. I tried my best to help her, because I thought I could, and she made me feel that I was.
She didn't spend the time I needed to trust her and I was also insecure about losing her, she had become my only reason to live, and although the depression and mutilation continued, it was getting better, I was improving, and not just hiding for once. I became attached very quickly, and very intensely. She would say things that made me so confident, so happy. ("When I think about my future I can only imagine myself with you" QUOTE) she wrote me pages after page of love letters, expressing her hope for us and opening up to me. Yet, my subconscious was always uneasy about her because her words and actions never quite aligned, something always felt wrong. But spending time with her made me the happiest I have ever been (past and present), and so I swept my worries under the rug.
Unfortunately, she was more important to me than anything else on the planet, including my well-being, even my life. If I thought killing myself would have made her life better, I would have done it in a second. A fucking scary thought now that I look back on it. But I was irrational. I lost my job, got a new one that sucked a lot. I could feel her pulling away and it scared the living hell out of me, to the point where one day I knew she was intentionally avoiding me, which made me snap.
I abused the hell out of myself and was terribly hurt, I can't find words to describe the feeling but it was worse than anything I had felt, which was pretty nuts. I didn't know what to do, I needed her, I told her I was going to end it. I wasn't 100% serious but I needed to see her, be comforted by her that if she wasn't going to respond to this then there was nothing else.
She responded by confirming my fears, the ones I convinced myself I had over-analysed, that I thought were only my insecurities causing me to doubt. She broke up with me via a text message, then called the cops to my house. The indescribable pain that I felt earlier that day became more intense. I ceased functioning for most of the day, lying under my blankets in the fetal position for hours, breathing 150 breaths a minute with a heartbeat probably over 130 (I'm usually about 80) for hours (speculation, of course). I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything, I had already hurt myself earlier and it didn't help, I was paralyzed. About three hours after breaking up I asked if she still loved me (because she had told me she did before, and I believed it). She said that she did. It gave me enough hope to not die, at least for now.
And then the cops showed up, while my mom and Dave were home, they checked my wrists but I was more creative than that. It was my chest that was torn to shreds, and they didn't find those marks. So I wasn't forced into the psychiatric ward because I denied the accusations. But my whole facade was broken, my mom, who had never known anything about me, now knew about my depression.
I finally forced myself to move, to get up from the bed. I ate a little food, I tried calling everyone I could trust, I needed to see someone else, to protect me from myself, to help me somehow, just make sure I wasn't alone that night. But they were all busy. Later I would find out that all my friends (close and drinking buddies) all went to a movie together and hung out that night, and no one informed me or invited me, they were "just busy" even when I asked about their plans. This hurt too, and I made sure to never need someone else ever again.
I spent that night like before, frozen, I couldn't think straight, everything was fuzzy, I couldn't sleep, time was as slow, I had entire theoretical conversations in between seconds. My gut was super angry from hurting so much. I got a call from one of her friends who proceeded to yell at me for making her cry. I tried to defend myself but I cared more for her not hurting than me dying, so I took the blame that I deserved.
All her friends and sister formed a tight protective circle to prevent me from talking to her. Despite me being in a much more fragile state, no one cared that I had wanted to commit suicide, only that me saying it hurt her.
Over the next months we texted, mostly her texting me. She kept giving me hope that we'd get back together and that it was her family and friends preventing it.
QUOTE
Owen- "I know I'll be okay, and I know that you'll be okay. What I fear, is that we won't okay."
Cassie- "I think we will be okay."
Unbeknownst to me, she had started dating the friend who had called me that night to yell at me. And she had done this two weeks after breaking up with me, despite leading me on more than a month later. I was doing counselling and had lost my new job, replacing it with a really good one that I kept till next fall when I started school.
My days had become manic, some days I would be hopeful and I was working through my problems. Most days I would think about her all day, super frustrated, there were a lot of mini-dramas with her, some of which are documented in the early posts. I had a multitude of questions that had no logical answers, to this day I never received any, but I don't need them anymore.
Therapy stopped working, one psychologist even said I didn't need it anymore, but I knew he was wrong. Despite my mood I had learned a lot of things and resolved to never need anyone again. I would always enjoy other people, but I narrowed my emotional range. I can't feel extra hurt and I won't hurt myself or even consider suicide anymore, but I also can't be as happy. The best way to describe it is becoming numb. Not entirely, but a significant amount.
For 6-7 months after breaking up she continued to text me, there were giant lulls sometimes, but frequent periods too. I had given up hope a while ago, but the wounds never went away. She talked to me about her boyfriend, about problems she was having, my advice on things. I gave her money when her friend ran out of food once (or so she said), about $400. She said she'd pay me back, I didn't expect it, and never got it anything.
While I was out of town at a family reunion she drunk called and texted me from 3am about how she was super drunk and getting some meth. This sent me back into a panic, I still cared about her extremely, and spent an hour trying to call her and talk her out of it, find details, and maybe find someone to help. I was utterly helpless, and it killed me. If I had been in Saskatoon I would have driven and found her because she gave me a location, but I couldn't and it hurt.
Fast forward a week or so, one night I was feeling depressed again and was drunk at a random bar far from home. In a moment of extreme bad judgment I called her, she was driving around thinking, so she picked me up. We talked, more like me being a belligerent, drunken idiot. I didn't get any answers out of her and even jumped out of her car trying to prove a point (can't remember why). My knee still has the scar from that brilliant decision. The conversation was a waste of time but I felt that I had been "strong" or something during it, I felt better.
Or so I thought, 15 minutes later I get a call from her friend saying they were outside where I was and wanted to talk to me. So it's her best friend and her boyfriend (phone call guy). They say that Cassie had told them that I had been hitting her, and that I tried to kill myself by jumping out of her car (not true) and that cops had searched her car (they stopped her cuz I was urinating publicly, but just gave me a warning)
I was really drunk and tried to deny things, but they wouldn't believe me and I started believing them, that I had actually done these things. Her friend started hitting me while her boyfriend watched. I think he wanted to seriously shit stomp me (he easily could), but we were in public, and my humiliation was enough to satisfy them. They eventually left after her friend's yelling and hitting started to get noticed. I tried telling them about the drunk calls, and her texts, that she had told me she was doing meth. That I'm not trying to hurt her, that I never would, but no one listened. Caring about her made me the enemy.
That was the last night I talked to her or any of her friends. For the next 8 months I felt like shit, sleep was very hard to acquire, depression was everywhere, surrounding me, but I refused to give in. I drank a lot, and alcohol made me a slobbering mess, I think I got a reputation for being psychotic from my friends, but it didn't bother me, I had felt things that they couldn't even begin to fathom, I had been places many people never go even for a life time. I was smarter and more experienced and although I was still broken, I was stronger. I did a little bit of mutilation, not much, just once or twice, but learned to easily control it. I slowly repaired myself and strengthened my resolve to never need anyone ever again.
I met Hannah out of the blue again, I had known her in high school. And we hit it off right away. I won't go into details but I kept growing, refused to hide from my past. I felt very confident and very stable around her. My recent post described what happened well enough. My growth has been exponential and despite taking a long while to get it going I have changed a lot for the better during the time I was with her. I still have my moments of weakness, see every post in the last month. But they are just moments, and I continue my journey upwards. Even though it still hurts some days, I am not afraid to stare into the abyss.
Now I know I don't need anyone.
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