There is air in my lungs still. I thought I would die but I didn’t. I crumbled. I crumble still. I ache and ache and wish for a sweeter breath. A more vivid tomorrow. I have been hopeful, full of despair, self destructive, fearful and peaceful. I have been these things all in the same breath.
I have stopped searching for answers perhaps just truths. I am weary but steadfast.
I am heartbroken and falling in love. I no longer shed tears for the thing that I wanted. I wanted him but it wasn’t meant to be. I tried. I lost myself, my faith, my self respect whilst on this frenzied mission to make him see my worth. My love was bloody, needy, sacrificial and intense. God I was too intense.
Its these ties, these bonds we cannot sever. I tried. The longest was 21 days and he crawled back. One of us always does. When we do, the reconnection is immediate, the excitement unbridled. He is on another continent but I can feel he is right here with me. What we have is cheap but profound. Paradoxical fuckery. He claims to still love me, those words have no effect on me now. However, he did make me cry by opening up the lid on closely shut memories from last year. I have never seen him talk like this before. He has never been this vulnerable. Why now?. It’s too late in the day.
The new man I have been seeing is a dream. He is the reason why I smile, he is the reason why I no longer wake up with this ominous feeling in my chest. He calmed it all, not by carefully managing my mental health, no. He did it by solely being present. He is mannered and loyal. He is everything I have ever dreamt of. Despite all his charm & perfection. I am betraying him, day by day. Its these ties we cannot sever. I am a woman. I have these slutty tendencies. I am slut. I can choke it down to my own insecurities and declare what I am engaging in isn’t legitimate cheating but I am a woman with a loving boyfriend and yet I cannot seem to cut ties with an old lover who is thousands of miles away but still I am in the wrong.
I don’t love my former boyfriend anymore. I stopped when I realised he had nothing to offer me. He would never sacrifice nor does he want to. You see, I am also a fool but I am not in a fool in love anymore. I just can’t let go. I have attempted to ascertain why? Maybe the familiar is so sweet. I don’t know but I do know that I have well and truly fallen from grace.
Last night I knew that I was going to have trouble sleeping so I took some codeine and I drifted off to sleep whilst listening to some music and it was so beautiful to slip away like that, unruffled.
It was unfortunate I had an episode of sleep paralysis somewhere around 2am. I saw a faint shadow above me and I tried to move but I was frozen. I drifted back to sleep but I had another nightmare, crazy eerie events were unfolding and I could not take it anymore so I got up and switched my bedroom light on and the next thing I remember is my mother waking me up in the morning to inform me she was going to work.
The day was spent in complete solitude, since Tuesday night my phone has been on airplane mode for the majority of the time. These are all my attempts to avoid the obligation of responding to friends, replies to nonsensical things which would be amusing and fun if I were not in this state. Texts from guys who have been wanting to date me for months because I seem like such a nice girl. At present I have no desire to date or start a new romance. MY GOD! The exhausting stage of getting to know a guy, the wondering of what their true intentions are, the ego games. Who needs that drivel.
Tuesday afternoon I confided in a friend about my depression, very uncharacteristic of me as I never discuss that issue with anyone nevermind the depth of it. I confided in her and she told me that it is just a “phase” and then she stopped responding to my texts. Fair enough, not everyone knows how to approach these discussions, it’s not like I was expecting this grand response that would solidify the severity and legitimacy of my sorry state but I felt my illness was tossed aside and dealt with in such a nonchalant manner, I regret even telling her. I feel exposed.
This other guy friend of mine who is more sensitised to my illness is always checking up on me, I appreciate this amazing human being however, he does ask me how I am everyday and confronting that question always evokes these feelings inside me and I am left questioning how am I doing really? It always ends up with that tingly feeling in my nose, a warning for the tears to come.
I thank God I have this blog. Writing on here were it is safe and supportive is something that has been instrumental in preserving my sanity.
Last night I felt uplifted, I jammed some old school rock, watched tv with my family, ate a healthy dinner, hydrated and felt clear headed after a day of fun filled bingeing and purging. For a moment I allowed myself to smile and laugh but it felt so forged, as though I was cheating on my grief.
The boyfriend and I had this… game that we played, we bought it a couple of months into the relationship and it became the activity that was central to our hanging out. A ritual of some sort. We even rushed all other activities when we hung out, even sex just so we could rush and indulge in the thing that we shared this mutual love for, we could talk for hours, never checked our phones, exchanged banter, he would be naked and I wrapped in a sheet, it was incredibly intimate and fun. He was my best friend and boyfriend at the same time.
Last night I asked him what he did with the.. game and he told me that he sold it just before he left and once again, I was hit in the face with the abrupt finality of it all. I swear I heard a gavel strike some hard wood, a door slamming shut and my stomach sank, hands weightless. I cried until my head was pounding and drifted off to sleep.
When you actually start to believe that you are coming to terms with fact that you can live without communicating with someone, ever. Just when you think the song has come to a crashing end, and that it is OK. He texts you, Hey. And in that moment you feel overjoyed, shocked, content as though that Hey was some kind of salvation, But you know nothing has changed and nothing more than what this is will ever come out of this. Ever. The high will simmer down into a low and I will have to sew myself back together again. Why am I like this.
If you suffer from depression and someone comes into your life and makes you feel whole by filling in the void and takes that hopelessness away, becomes the reason you smile and keep fighting the fight, are your feelings for this person inflated to be more than they really are? Perhaps, I don’t know. I just know that loving and being with him was the most profound experience of my life so far. It has been too much to bear. Some things eat away at you, this, devoured me whole.
I still feel that sensation of heat beneath my skin when we talk and the fact that he is never coming back seeps into conversation. Parts of me die.
I’ll keep writing about this until there is nothing left to say. The ego says what is wrong with you? let it go already, he didn’t deserve you, you’re better off. That may be true but why can’t I stop thinking about it and crying in the bus. I was someone before I met him. Why do I feel as though I have lost something so fundamentally supportive to my existence?
A while has passed since I last wrote, for the most past I have been too weary to write. Recently my life has been full of friendships, meet ups, new activities and stimulating challenges. I haven’t had enough time to sit down and be still. I haven’t had enough time to feel and to think. I am unsure if I have been numb or I’ve stopped hurting… I know I haven’t but perhaps I’ve become accustomed to the dark so much so hurt has become some sort of second skin that I have to live with.
I turned 24 two weeks ago and unlike the previous years, I did not panic or cry I simply took it as is. Perhaps weakness has left my body, I do not know. I cannot explain these emotions or lack thereof.
I have been seeing a guy, it has been an emotional roller coaster to say the least. I have broken up with him more that four times, the whole relationship is marred with obstacles and a grinding halt that is certain and foreseeable. He is of a different race and religion than I am and his family would disapprove and to top that all off our whole union has been a secret and that has been wrecking havoc on my already pitiable self esteem and deadly insecurities. I do not know what to do, I break up with him and he pulls me back in with his elastic binds. He has the sweetest face I have ever seen and I am in the quicksand.
Bulimia keeps raging on and on and it is wrecking more havoc on my face, I look old and used. My skin looks and feels like elastic, I have this permanent dead eyed look in my face. My clothes are all too big so I keep rotating these few items of clothing. I am high on lethargy. This body of mine is spent, my feet seem to be saying this is it we’re done but my voracious appetite for self destruction remains unquenched.
I will make time to blog regularly like I used to, I miss how this feels. The release. I miss laying it all bare.
I’m excited again, giddy, on the edge, no appetite, head in the clouds. Oh the mania. I always do this. Obsess. And nothing ever comes out of it. I’ve been talking to a wonderful Irish guy, he seems decent, handsome and inquisitive which is always great in my book. I always tend to evoke some kind of euphoria within me by getting to know attractive men who I think are way out of my league, it’s some type of rush just talking to them but unfortunately I freeze, shrink, over think/panic, try too hard and end up ruining it before it even gets anywhere.
If I really think about it I’m too lazy for relationships, too wrapped up in my own world to have the strength to tend to the feelings of another individual. In a way I think some mental illnesses like eating disorders and body image issues etc tend to celebrate narcissism, I am the only person I think of from morning till I lay my head on my pillow at night. Days are just spent being preoccupied with me me me, mostly criticising myself but the fact still remains is that the obsession with the self is apparent.
They say be yourself when it comes to dating, I can’t do that. Obviously. I am an anxiety-ridden mess but I do have my moments when I’m completely free from everything that plagues me. The severity of my eating disorder lessens when I am distracted by the addition of another variable in my life, there is too much of me in my life and I’ve found that being in the company of the right person and bathing in their light tends to loosen the shackles of mental illness, the rest is up to me. So I can completely break free.
A noose, yes feel like that’s what I’m choking on. I’ve been working all week, I thought I would crumble having to stand for long hours at a time but I didn’t. My agent is super reliant on me because I report to jobs on time and do what I’m asked, it feels great but it also means more gigs for me which is great but (again) it makes me feel increasingly tied and entangled with these activities that although make me money they also increase my anxiety, I hate feeling obligated.
On the flip side of things, arriving home tonight was met with an intervention from my mum and brother who reckon my weight has plummeted to an all time low. Apparently I look like a boy, I’ll admit I’ve lost weight and my BMI is now 17.2 but I’m better for it. I have dizzy spells on a daily basis but my emotions in relation to weight issues I’m on top of the world, this is where it escalates for me anyway, once I’m tipping off the edge of the cliff the only way to go is to plummet off it, giving me such a high. Being skinny is the high, I can’t stop now.
I cannot be with the man who I thought I would be happy with, you know that type of guy who makes the bad disappear just by talking to him, the one that carries a light in their eyes you can’t help but want to be the best version of yourself. Now he’s gone and I’ve lost that verve, everything means nothing. I just wanna melt into the ground sometimes.