I have a challenge for you – write that post this weekend. I know you’re not where you want to be, but I bet you’re further along than you realize. Explore those ways that you have grown and changed and moved on – no matter how small. Those little steps will take you far. Celebrate them all 🙂
OK – so, I couldn’t get to it this weekend, but I am attempting it ahora:
I acknowledge that I am not where I need nor want to be. I also acknowledge that I have come a long way, baby.
With Bob I was happy and excited and looking forward to the future; our future, the one that he promised me over and over and over again. So much so, that I just never believed it wouldn’t be that way. I was the “love of his life” and he was “never going to let(me) be without him!” And how’s about an engagement ring and the pledge that we were not a temporary thing?
He initially told me that he had fucked up massively and that he needed time to get his head on straight.
Stupid, stupid, STUPID me . . .
I fell for it.
All of it.
I thought he had meant it when he whispered to me that nothing could ever tear us apart. We were soul mates and he couldn’t imagine having survived without me. He never wanted to think of his life without me in it.
Right . . .
Off he went, leaving me with permanent physical damage. Suicidal thoughts. Heartbroken beyond belief. Soul obliterated. Financial shithole. Scars – both internally and externally; visible and invisible, but all of it . . . led me to feeling unworthy, unloveable, used and used up, defective and destroyed. If my best friend, lover, fiance, partner of six years could think so little of me as to desecrate me this way, what value could I really have?
So… the challenge. How far have I come? What triumphs have I had? Growth and change?
Well, first and foremost:
I am alive.
That’s a huge accomplishment. If you have never had thoughts of ending your life because your pain is too much of a weight and you feel as you though are a burden to your family and friends, I know you probably can’t grasp the magnitude of that feat.
But it’s a real thing.
It took a long, long, long, long, LONG time, but I can get my feet to take me out my door.
I can go out for lunch, dinner, a movie, to parties, to weddings and showers, to work, to the doctor, the dentist, to the market, to the dry cleaner, to get my hair cut and my nails done . . . I can look at facebook (sometimes) and Twitter and Instagram (once in a while) without feeling as though my life is pointless compared to all these others who are actually living. It’s odd how that’s an accomplishment, right? But this is 2016, and not 1976 and those are earmarks for social integration: for joining in the game of life without seeming like an oddball or a relic. And my friends and family drive me nuts with their astonished: “Didn’t you see . . .?”. Nope. Didn’t. Sorry.
I can go to the racetrack, concerts, sporting events and walk around downtown. I can drive without wanting to veer off the road into a tree or off the overpass – most of the time anyway. I can drive around the lake without steering directly into it. I can do my hair and my makeup and put on my jewelry without crying (most of the time). I can take care of my cats and my dwelling. I cook and bake and clean up. I can smile and laugh and engage others and hear them say nice things to me without thinking they’re just lying. You’re so fos, I ‘d think. Sometimes I would say it aloud. You’re just bullshitting me, just as Bob always had.
I can guide my daughter about buying her house – the pitfalls and the pluses – and contribute to the details for her wedding. I can be with my son in the ER when he needs me. I offer advice about his future – and his past – when he asks, and praise him for losing 70+ pounds. I helped both of them go thru their belongings when they moved out and encouraged them to follow the path where their hearts and minds led them.
I can be pleasant and cooperative and evoke laughter and a sense of calm for others. I can feel good when someone compliments me.
These may sound like minor, insignificant, trivial things to some of you. But let me tell you . . .
the struggle is real.
For easily two and a half years after Bob left, I cried every day. Multiple times a day
sometimes often. This June will be three years. (Well, he strung me along until September, so you could use that date I guess . . .) THREE YEARS, and the pain is still so raw and real, that here I am, writing this blog as a tool to help me survive. I still cry, just not quite as frequently. I miss him but I hate what he did to me. I hate this person that sits here, getting this shit off her chest. Antidepressants, therapy, and those darn daily meds for the rest of my life . . . A failure. That’s what I am. Bob made me feel like I was a useless piece of garbage just taking up space and wasting oxygen.
But . . .
I am alive.
(Probably much to his chagrin.)
I have many, many, MANY people in my life – virtual and real (I am sure there are better terms for both of those?) that like me. How awesome is that? There are people who care if I live or die. People who think I make their life better just by being in it. Crazy, right?
I. Am. Alive.
Hey, stilllearning2b, how did I do?
Thank you for your encouragement. Thank you for your blog. Thank you for this exercise in challenging me to find where I have grown and changed . I know that I have miles to go (as one of the greats said – and I am attempting to delay that “sleep”), but I am still in the game. I’m trying. REALLY hard. Thank you.