No one tells you that being a person, whatever that means, is pretty hard. Pretty fucking hard and some days, despite your best efforts, you just don't feel like having to be a person for a second. NOT in the suicidal way of course. I guess i should preface that before i start ranting about not wanting to be a person these days.
As this is a space for me to talk about my personal going on's, i apologize in advance if the boy drama becomes tiresome to read about. I don't really have anyone to talk to, in my daily life, about how i am feeling these days. Not because there aren't people around; there definitely are. But being able to express how i am really holding up about stuff has always been easier and more honest in written form.
My automatic reply for how am i doing these past few days has been "fine" 'okay" "hanging in there' "-meh, things could be better but ya know'. My facade is placid. I am all shrugs and wry smiles. The exterior has to pass for okay so people don't start worrying. Depression makes people worry naturally. The thing is when the depression surrounds a boy, people are less sympathetic. You are expected to just move on, get over it, function like a normal person...because heartbreak is nothing new or unique. So on the outside i've been doing my best to pass as a functioning human being as to avoid the look of annoyance.
On the inside however I AM A FUCKING HOT MESS. The hottest mess ever. Not going to lie it feels good writing that down as i fight back the tears that are forming at the base of my eyeball. How is it possible to cry this much. Where are the tears even stored in my small body. Seriously, where are they stored.
As of Monday Sean is on deployment for the next 9 months. This should be a relief. Having him home for two weeks was not great. And while he was waiting to be deployed for 11 days in Florida it was even harder. Now he will be out of my life in every way for 9 whole months and i hope in that time it will be become easier without him.
Before he left however he reached out to me during moments of loneliness and nostalgia. He didn't say any of the things i wanted him to say. He didn't go above or beyond the bare minimal. But because our relationship often feels like two people clinging to each other to prevent each other from falling, i clung to him as much as he held on to me out of fear of what crashing feels like rather than anything else.
But it is never and will never be enough for that boy. Just before he left he uploaded a picture on fb of him and his gf from his college graduation (which was four years ago). Despite the big graduation she was unable to attend just a few months ago the lasting image he wanted everyone to see was a celebratory image of them together. And most everyone who liked on commented thought the image was taken from his graduation from the Naval Academy. The one i attended. The one i showed up for.
To say I was pissed and/or crushed when i came across the picture would be an understatement. But i wasn't surprised. Not at all. I wished he had better tact. I wished the light-bulb in his pea sized brain would turn on. But i wasn't surprised. I an perceptive and knowledgeable of things I cannot see. And in some weird way i know this boy, i do not understand him, but i know him. And at this point i don't want anything from him except for him to know that he hurt me. I wish he could feel what i am going through.But i know he is incapable of doing so.
What is more annoying is that on Monday before he set sail he sent me the shipping address for the boat he will be on for the next 9 months. As if i am going to write him letters while he is at sea. This is not the fucking notebook (a movie for which i have not seen but i assume letter writing occurred based on how many gifs from this movie appear on my tumblr feed). I am not going to send letters to him as i did when he was in boot camp because that worked out really well for me.
I am not going to give him anymore of my words where i profess how much i care about him and miss him and want him to be safe out there at sea. I will not pen anymore letters with stories of my happenings to help him pass the time while he is out there. I will not invest anymore words on a boy who has so dismissively stepped on them as if they weren't delicate. I will not.
But.
It doesn't mean i don't want to ( I won't based on the previous statements. He literally told me he had no time to see me while he was home. And i should have been the one person he had the most time for). It doesn't mean I don't, despite everything, want to write him letters that will sustain him. like a life source. Because the part of me that won't do any of those things is met with the other part of me that desires to. I know things. I can't explain them but i do. And despite everything i still on some absurd level want to offer comfort to a boy who has not shown me an ounce of kindness this past year. I'll never be able to explain why.
Of course I will fight the urge to send him anything. Also, per my moms suggestion, should anything come in the mail from Sean it will be returned to sender. No explanation needed. I have to cut things off now or continued to be dragged in the mug.
But it has been a fight to distance this boy from my thoughts. If my facade is placid and stoic I am handling this 'breakup' inwardly like a girl losing her goddamn mind:. I've sobbed in various corners in public. I have avoided contact with people who aren't my close personal friends. I have moments of Beyonce confidence followed only by Fiona Apple angst. I bought new shoes, do i have the money for them, no, do i feel better having them, yes. yes. I do. I've created 2 breakup playlists which i have played repeatedly and then cried to. I haven't worn pants in days (skirts are easier to drag myself into) and yet i have worn some bum ass hoodies to emphasize that clearly i cannot properly dress myself. I called my cat my best friend yesterday, followed by a hug he had to escape from due to the crying. I call my mom constantly to vent and fake sob. Pizza is my new best friend. along with sweat pants and netflix. I eat pizza, in sweat pants watching netflix. I constantly find myself lying in the fetal position praying that i can not be a person just for a little while longer. Because being a person is fucking hard. I'd rather be a lump in my bed under covers trying to come to terms with the mess he has made than a person who has to pretend she's okay.
Because i am a HOT FUCKING MESS. As with most things i feel every emotion on a large scale. And this, well this is a whole new territory.
3 comments:
As I was reading this, I had A Thought: I think part of the problem is that it feels like a break up, but because you weren't together, you have those break-up feelings and then beat yourself up for them or try to squash them down, and you get negative responses from your friends because he wasn't *really* your boyfriend. So, it's like you're simultaneously going through a rejection and a break-up, and those feelings are fighting each other and, in the end, they amplify each other.
So...okay, this might not work, but what if you forget about the rest of the stuff and just treat it like a break-up? Mourn it, hate it, miss him, but try to narrow it down a little bit. Because that's just so much to deal with, lady. Too much.
I just want to see you move on, date, hang out, find friends and dudes who deserve you. I hate Sean for treating you like crap, and I just wish you could fast forward over this shittiness. :(
I don't really have any advice, but just wanted to say that I'm sorry you're feeling so shitty without him. I wonder if counseling/therapy will help you dissect/analyze the bejeesus out of this so you can keep going onward and upward toward health and healing and away from destructive shittiness. 9 months without him. Detox. Withdrawal. Give yourself the time you need. No need to apologize.
I like Perpetua's advice. It's a breakup for real, treat it that way. eat pizza in sweatpants and watch netflix. have rebound make-out sessions with hot stupid boys. whatever.
I also have a thought, which is not consoling, but is what I've arrived at on the "I want him to know how much he hurt me/how much I care/ etc."
Because what we mean when we think or say those things is that we want it to MATTER to him how much he hurt you, or how much you care. It isn't that he doesn't know; it's not like if you called Sean up and said "I love you and I'm crying and watching netflix & eating pizza, in sweatpants," he'd suddenly go "OH, I didn't realize, let me drop out of the navy and come marry you."
He already knows he hurt you. It just doesn't matter enough to him, for one stupid-ass reason or another, for him to do anything differently.
This is an excruciating thing to think about. but in some weird way it is also helpful to me in the "getting over it" way. when we think "I want him to feel like this/know this/etc" I think it's with the hope that the experience or knowledge will make him change and deliver to him to us. The other - that it doesn't matter - is more realistic. painful but in a different way.
Post a Comment