Just a bit of advice – don’t fall in love when your 12!!

Today’s a day off work so I have had lots of time on my hands.

I’ve been doing 24 hours of thinking and a tiny bit of drinking.

I had a conversation with a friend last night.

She went through a divorce 2 years ago.

She is now looking at starting a new relationship.

2 YEARS…..

Am I going to be alone for 2 years.

I don’t want to be alone for 2 years.

I feel like I have wasted so much time already.

What if I’m alone for years??

This has lead me to think about 2 things.

Love and mistakes.

I’m worried that no one will love me again.

I don’t want the same thing to happen again.

I won’t survive it again.

I’m not convinced I’ll survive this.

So what did I do wrong?

I thought about this for the last 24 hours, I haven’t slept.

I’ve been reading a blog called His Giant Mistake.

I’ve started at the beginning so I don’t know how it ends yet. There is an amazing entry called ‘dating your divorced self’.

Read it if you get the chance.

It helped me a little.

My mistakes –

I accepted too much

I should have told him I wanted more affection.

I became a little quite and sad.

Maybe even a little resentful.

I wanted him to love me as much as I loved him, I think I knew in my heart he didn’t.

He told me he didn’t believe in unconditional love.

I loved him too much.

I loved him with everything I was.

I fell in love when I was 12.

Maybe love like that is never meant to last into adulthood.

I loved him unconditionally.

I loved him so much that I lost sight of myself!!

Is that what love is? And that’s not a rhetorical question. I want to know!!

I never questioned that all of our money went on his hobbies.

I never questioned when he went out with IT for ‘photography lessons’ (that turned out to be code for fucking in car parks).

I never asked for anything for myself.

All I wanted was for him to be happy.

I gave 100% of my life to him.

I was 100% loyal and faithful to him.

I have bee an utter love blind dick.

I became boring because I became a void, something that became 100% about him.

I gave and gave and gave ad asked for nothing but unconditional love – the one thing he couldn’t give me.

I loved him wrong.

I really believe this now.

I loved him too much – if that’s possible.

I loved him like a child.

Selfless – asking for nothing.

I see it as a child running down a grassy hill.

A child runs as fast as they can.

All arms and legs flailing.

No care about getting hurt, they are nt looking for danger.

Just caught up in the giggle and fun.

Just running because its what come naturally.

An adult runs down a hill with care.

They know the pain of falling, they want to avoid it.

They look for obstacles in their way, checking they aren’t going to trip and fall.

I don’t think I will ever love like this again. I don’t think it’s right anyway, so so much pain – how can that be right?

It scares me though, what if nothing compares to the good times?

One thing I do know – I’m going to be asking for more!!

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Confession of the day!

I still sleep hugging dipsticks pillow. It still smells of him.

This make me feel weak.

How and why are we capable of loving those who hurt us so badly.

Why can’t we switch it off when we reach a certain threshold of pain?

But I don’t tell anyone about this, I think they would look at me like I’m mad.

Still clinging to someone who hurt me in every way it’s possible to hurt someone.

And my biggest confession? Cut the bullshit and the bravado.

If he turned up at my door today and begged forgiveness I’d probably take him back.

As I drift off tonight I pray (I have faith, not in a totally religious way, I’m not sure who I’m praying to if I’m bring honest!).

I pray that tomorrow I’m stronger.

I’m praying that I wouldn’t think about taking back a man who did this to me.

I feel weak but its honest.

Been drinking and feel sad.

Can’t stop thinking about everything he said! I’ve been drinking. I feel totally messed up. Can’t believe he is being so nice now. Feel so lost, I miss him.

I’ve moved all my stuff to the house share now.

I didn’t ask for any of this.
I miss him.
I can’t believe he has done this to me,
I’m happy he still ‘has love’ for me.
I want to still be friends with him but I’m scared I will never move on. I so sad all of the time.

I’m just so sad, I don’t want to be sad anymore!

Quite moments.

Sitting in the doctors surgery writing this. I’m having what I have nicknamed a ‘quite moment’. It sounds nice doesn’t it?

Well it’s not, theses moments stalk me. They wait until I’m feeling like I might just be ok to strike.

They whisper dark thoughts of being alone and never being whole again. They whisper that he was right to leave me.
They whisper that I deserve everything I get.
They tell me in fat and no one will want me.

Quite moments are the bain of my life.

They are the wait for the bus.

They are the wait for the doctor.

They are the few minutes or hours before I nod off at night.

They are the moments at work where the customers seem to disappear and it’s just me – alone.

They are the moments I sit in the bath.

They are me having a coffee in the cafe, when I’ve finished my paper and I realise no one is waiting at home.

They are numerous and new ones appear at any given moment.

I’m hoping to have less quite moments.

My darkest day. I hope i never have to go there again.

Please don’t read this if you are feeling crap – i don’t need scolding. I know i was weak and i know i was being cowardly. Its taken a lot to think about this day. In a way though it makes me think that maybe  i have some further than i think.

On the 31st of July i wrote about the day i reached what i thought was rock bottom.

I left my home with the intention of throwing myself under a large fuel truck.

I ended up at a doctors office after a phone call that pretty much saved my life.

I really believed after that day i would improve.

I was sure that as i was given medication, a caseworker and a shrink i would start a rapid recovery and i wouldn’t be in pain for much longer.

I assumed that the with all of that, and with the help from others around me i was right on track – logical right?

Then the day that i call Black Thursday came.

Days off are incredible hard for me as all of my routine was based around him.

I know that everyone copes differently.

I know some people are stronger.

I know some are more stable.

But i also know there is no handbook for this.

I have known this man since i was 11.

At 12 i told my dad i was going to marry this man.

At 17 we made it official.

I’m 26 – I have loved this man for longer than i haven’t.

I feel like his being, his soul is part of me – like roots of a tree. I feel like i grew up with him. His root have become part of him – How do you untangle that?

Black Thursday came a week after i had turned up at the doctors.

I spent all day in my bed.

I don’t remember how the day started but i remember sitting under the covers with a bottle of wine – swinging straight from the bottle.

I remember the pain

I was thinking about all the sexual comparisons he had made. I was thinking about all the tips he gave me on how i could be better in bed. I was thinking about how no man was going to want be unless i got down to 8 stone. He has told me that.

I’ve since been told this is called rumination.

A lovely lady commented about it last week and a few days later my shrink told me all about it,

Turns out she was totally on the mark.

I’am learning some skills to stop me doing this now.

But at the time i had never heard of rumination.

I sat in bed and as everything went around in my head i decided i was destined to live a lonely and sad life. I decided to end it now rather than  put up with anymore pain.

I took my writing set and i wrote 4 letters.

Dad.

Mother.

Dipstick.

Good friend.

I wrote long letters.

I slept in between writing them as it really took it out of me.

I wept as i wrote them.

I poured myself out onto the pages.

By this point i had finished the bottle, i got up and took a shower.

I changed my sheets (looking back it must have taken me ages – it takes me long enough sober) and i took my last bottle of wine out of the fridge.

I then in my drunken state started looking for tablets.

i reached the Valium, the sleeping tablets and the antidepressants.

This seemed like a great mix to me. in my drunken state i assumed this would be like slipping away in a lovely hazy dream.

I was in so much pain i thought anything must be better than this…anything!

So i took them – all of them. I also downed the rest of the bottle of wine.

I placed the letter by the front door and closed my bedroom door.

I wanted whoever found me to know what i had done and not just burst in and see me.

i stumbled back into the bedroom and got into bed i put i episode of NCIS on the laptop (i cant get to sleep with out some background noise even now).

I felt it coming on quickly.

I’ve never held large amounts liquid very well and drinking 2 bottles of wine in a few hours didn’t sit well with me.

I vomited everywhere, it was voluminous. All the tablets had came back up, a little worn looking at the edges but they where there.

I got back in the shower where i vomited a few more times.

I then slept on the sofa for 12 hours.

I woke up feeling like shit.

I have kept the letters. They are on my bedside table. My shrink wanted me to throw them away but i cant. He wanted me to tell my parents but i cant. i have told Good friend though. She asked me to throw away the letters but i haven’t. Its not that i plan to use them, i don’t but there is something pure about them – if that’s the right word. It was me minus any bull shit. It was exactly how i felt. I don’t know how to explain it. Its difficult to verbalize. I haven’t read them back, i look at the envelopes sometimes. They make me feel a little safer.

I’m sorry if this post has made anyone uncomfortable but writing seems to help. This is probably my last really depressing post. lets home anyway!!

The Memory Warehouse.

memory

I’m meant to be looking for somewhere to live but after 10 minutes of looking its pretty clear that I’m not going to find a nice place of my own for my budget.

So 2 choices – either house share or a crappy scummy flat above a shop somewhere.

Choices, choice – well I’m going to go for a walk soon and have a think but that’s not what this post is about.

While packing my stuff i found a book that Dipstick (that what i’m going to call him from now on) brought for me about 9 months ago – Just about the time he started shagging her.

It saying in it ‘love you xxx’ it made me think. did he mean this at the time he wrote this?

I sat for a while and started thinking about the book itself.

Dream-catcher by Stephen King

The memory warehouse – i always loved the idea.

I wish i could climb up into mine and remove every piece of him.

But having sat here for a while – i was 11 when we met – how much would be left?

Not a lot i imagine!!

How many of my shelves would have nothing but spiders and cob webs filling them.

I genuinely feel like he is such a large piece of my life that has now gone.

How do i get past this?

I think of him a million times a day.

I wish i could open my memory warehouse and throw a Molotov cocktail in there.

I wish i could wake up and not remember any of him!

Shouldn’t be drinking!!

I’m pissed

I shouldn’t be drinking with these tablets. I only had 3.

I miss him

I hurt

I don’t understand what I did wrong

I’d trade my soul for him right now

I miss him

I don’t know how much longer I can take this pain

I hurt, every piece of me hurts.

What did I do wrong

I want him

I feel like screaming

He’s with her now

I feel like he’s taken a piece of me with him

I don’t feel whole anymore

I hurt

It hurts so much

I can’t take much more

Why doesn’t he want me

I’m still scared he will turn up with her and try to move her in

I’ve run our of drink

I could do with another

I can’t do this

I think I’m broken