#black diary

so it’s starting to get closer and closer to the middle of the month, one might even debate this week is already basically the middle of the month. and as each day seems to pass me by, the daunting task of trying to lock down a place for myself inches closer and closer, and i’m getting more and more nervous.

the biggest thing is the fact that the rest of my things are still at my ex’s parents place. now, lord knows i could probably go over there mostly by myself, without his presence having to be near, and his mom could watch over me while i try to separate my life from his. hell, that might be the better idea, but she’s the kind of woman who likes to probe, and i’m worried about what i might say.

or the kind of influence she might have on me.

i’m worried that i might spew my guts at her, which would probably be the right step in being vulnerable around those that still might give a shit about me, but i’m conditioned to think otherwise. but my biggest thing is i’m worried she might probe about why we’re not together anymore, and i’d be worried about how i would address the issue. but then, because i know she understands boundaries (unlike some mothers, am i right?), she might not say anything at all. i don’t know which one is more anxiety-inducing...

any time that i think about having to go over there and separate my life from his, i get nervous and anxious. i think it mostly has something to do with the fact that i feel ashamed of having put us both in this position. i briefly read an article earlier tonight about “why do i feel anxious seeing my ex” kind of thing, and some of the points that came up kind of solidified my thinking on this: i’m nervous to be around him because i give him that power to make me feel nervous and ashamed, and because i give him too much importance in everything i’ve been doing.

quietly on my own, i’ve been giving him the power to make me feel ashamed and nervous because i still care so much about him, and every day as i try to console myself and tell myself i deserve more, i do still wish i could have him back, but the plaguing thought of “i did this to us” haunts me. i feel ashamed that i didn’t let go of certain things that were stupid, little nagging things... i wonder, however, if i only want him back because it would be easier than having to go through this; it would grant me the ability to feel like i’m important to someone, and that i matter again. what a shitty way to think, honestly. i’m not exactly throwing myself down the tube with this one, but logically and consciously i realize that i shouldn’t give someone that power, to have to be in their life to make me feel important and worthy. it still doesn’t help much, though, when i think about the good times we’ve had and how much i wish this was all just a bad dream and i will eventually wake up back in his arms as he snuggles me in the light of the dawn of a new day before jumping out of bed to go sit on the toilet for awhile.

quietly as i try to keep my head above the murky waters as best as i can, i’ve been giving him too much importance in everything i’ve been doing. i’ve been trying to make myself feel better mostly for me because i’m finally realizing how important it is for the betterment of my mental and emotional health, but there’s still that stupid little flame inside of me, trying its best to stay alight, full of hope that we could be together as one again. anything that i’ve been doing feels like i’ve been trying to regain my sense of self just so i might have another shot. i know that after something like this, two people cannot be together anymore (again, logically and consciously i realize this) because we all change in our own ways after a heartbreak. we either become stronger and more secure, or we become weaker and unable to trust, more unfaithful, unwilling to compromise and work through problems, we withdraw into ourselves. i know i did a few times prior to having dated him, and that was my biggest mistake.

i catch myself bashing myself into the ground every day, wondering how did i let this happen? how did i let myself become so out of control that i couldn’t just go to him, open up, tell him everything i was struggling with? but then i think, ok, cool, that’s really awesome that you’re realizing you should have done those things, but how would he have responded? probably not in the way you would think he should, or the way that you deserve he should have.

try talking to someone who would lash out at you in a very quiet but violent way when you try to address the concern of “i get nervous when you’re not around me” or “i really like spending time with you, but i feel like you’re growing distant and it worries me.” the blame game would come out, or an exasperated “i can’t do anything for myself,” and after awhile it felt like i was losing him and that made me feel even more unlike myself, more like i had to be somebody to try and please him. maybe because of my separation anxiety issues, which will eventually be something i’ll know i’ll try to dive right into to figure out why i feel that way whenever someone i give great importance to starts becoming distant or simply just wants to go watch a movie in the theatre by themselves, i am clingier than i should be, and i grow concerned in the way i talk, walk, dress, act, how affectionate or ravishing i am to the other person. i always just thought that it would be so fantastic finding someone that wanted to spend as much time with me as i wanted to them, and every so often give ourselves a little break, but no longer than a couple days; or how fantastic it would be that consistently we were affectionate and understanding to each and of course just be naturally attracted to each other sexually and emotionally...

i remember when he would go off and spend time with his family... the anxiety of having to sleep on my own, the nerve-wracking, gut-wrenching feeling of knowing he’s having fun without me, completely tore me up. that is something i have no idea why i feel that way, especially with him as i can’t recall having such strong emotions about that as i did with anyone else (except the first ex... but that in general was just messed up, he was still hanging out with one of his ex’s who seemed to want to get back into his life again). i think it’s because i was always so concerned, in a sense, about how my partner feels about me. because if they really liked me, they’d have just as much fun and talk about the day we had together with their friends like he did with his family to me, right? but with him, even though he said he talked about me a lot, it never felt like he really did after awhile. certain little things started coming up that bothered him, like the trip out to banff and how i would sleep in and i didn’t really seem to care about how early we left ... those little things basically wrecked the experience for him. yet i enjoyed doing my own thing when away from the city. i liked getting up and leaving the hotel whenever i wanted to, but it was even better if i had someone there with me to shower with, get all hyped up with, then go out and just explore randomly without much of a plan. mind you, i still have yet to find that person, but that would be the ideal. that would lead into him not really talking about how much he enjoyed the trip, rather he would sit there and just “yea, it was alright” whenever someone asked him about it. god, i still remember that feeling like it was just yesterday. it’s almost just as bad as when someone says that exact same line after having sex. it’s like any confidence or enjoyment that you got out of the experience is stripped away, and all that’s left is a grey shell of an emotion that you can’t quite place your finger on except to call it neutrality. it’s neither here nor there, but just ... existing. i can’t help but think what a shitty way to feel about something you did with your significant other.

anyway, getting a little off-topic here. i know that we weren’t a good fit, and we probably never will be after this experience. but there’s something so discerning for me having to go and separate my things from his, because i think both of us were hoping this move would help solidify our relationship a little bit more, actually having a real, tangible goal we could both work towards, together for the better for each other... we threw all of our things together in boxes without much care, and now... now i have to go and separate everything just so i can have some peace to myself.

if only there weren’t certain things i find i can’t let go of, i feel like it would be just be easier to skip that process, dive right in and just rebuild my life completely from the ground up. and eventually i know i can and i will. i will replace meaningless things with wholesome things that i can feel proud to call my own, because my opinion and my decision went into having it in my home. i know that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, it’s just going to be very difficult to try and have to sit there and meticulously go through every one of our possessions and divide it all between his stuff and mine.

and i think my separation anxiety is tying into this anxiety. it’s the final step to starting to let go of any hope that might be alive of ever rebuilding a relationship together. i know it might be the best thing i can do for myself, it’s just gonna be rough and i know that if i really set my mind to it i can do it.

lately i’ve been listening to a lot of songs that got me through my heartbreak with my second ex, and granted it’s actually been helping me to realize that if i got through that heartache, i can get through this one. i spent almost two years on my own (here i thought it was only one year) and every day it got a little better. i wasn’t fully healed yet, only because i threw a lot of the blame of the deterioration of that relationship on myself and i think i carried more of the emotional and mental burden on myself than i really should have because relationships are two way streets. and with that one, it was more a one-way street into a ditch. the poor guy had no idea what he was doing. i made new friends, got myself a beater of a car that i was both proud of and felt guilty having spent the money on a car that wouldn’t last much longer (but she did get me to a lot of places without having to worry too much), started to find myself again, the real me. the one i knew always existed, but never got a chance to let itself truly shine.

but with this one... i knew i couldn’t fix him and his problems, and he seemed resolute to try and make everything better within his power, and i admired that. he’d been through shitty times which granted, made him a little more selfish than i would have liked and i think that selfishness was deflected onto me and i was the one made out to be selfish, even though i would have moved mountains for that man if he had ever given me the chance (briefly, i wonder if i should have just “came in like a wrecking ball” and selflessly moved those mountains for him). because i knew he had been through those shitty times and shittier relationships, i wanted to be the one for him. i wanted to be so perfect for him that i think i only wore myself down.

i know it’s mostly the anxiety of being on my own that’s causing me to wake up in cold sweats and my heart racing at 300bps, but i only get around 5-7.5 hours of sleep nowadays, and that’s more than enough to keep me awake for 17 hours at least. with him, though, i could sleep for 8.5-11 hours without even making the effort to. and i sit here and i think about that. even with my second ex, i didn’t get that much sleep, i think the max that i would sleep would be for 9 at most. it makes me wonder if well before we had gotten a place of our own, i had already known how draining he could be.

how every little thing i did, i would obsess over “is it good enough?” or “am i doing this right?” or “am i good enough for him?” or “i wonder what he thinks of me if i do this or that” because i wanted to ensure that i was the perfect boyfriend for him. thinking about this point now, i don’t know if i have ever felt the intense desire to be perfect. with my second ex, i specifically remember wondering and worrying about what i had done wrong that he grew distant and would literally make no effort to try and hang out with me anymore, he was so into himself and left me out a lot of the time. but with this one, the third... i was always so stressed about making the wrong move, about how i should go about saying certain concerns, that i would just blow up. i would yell, i would shake, i felt beside myself a lot of the time over the stupidest things. things i would never react to in such a way.

i was just simply put, not myself. i became so obsessed over the littlest of things trying to be the right one that i think i completely lost myself.

... i love how these diary entries always start off with one point, then completely devolve into 5 other things. i initially wanted to talk about the anxiety that i had having to separate my things from his, and then it devolves into how i obsessed over the smallest things that i would blow up and i became a monster version of myself.

i think it links back to what i was talking about with shame, and the anxiety that kind of comes with the shame and guilt. (shame = i am bad, guilt = i did something bad) i felt ashamed for the person i had become that caused my ex to break up with me before i even had a chance to try and start making the right amends, and now i feel ashamed that i have to go to his parents’ place to grab the rest of my things and try to rebuild myself and my life after having crumbled this one into the ground. i mean, we both did. lord knows we both fucked up in this relationship, and while i know i can’t allow myself to think about it, i can’t help but wonder if he doesn’t feel the same way as well, or if he blames me completely for the deterioration of our relationship.

i think that also gives him more power, to make me wonder that. i think i know what the answer is, which is i feel he does blame me completely for the end of the relationship, and that’s why he feels relieved i’m not around anymore. i could do the same. i could feel relieved now that i feel like i can start being myself again, because i’m not worrying about being perfect. i can be flawed, i can have my emotions again (as i recall correctly i had a conversation with my mother at one point and stated that i felt i couldn’t open up to him at all because i wasn’t allowed to have my emotions as she had made a comment about that’s why she continues to have her own place even though the thought of living with her boyfriend is very tempting), and most importantly i can be open about my emotions without wondering if i’m going to get blamed for feeling the way i do. (there’s a difference between pro-active resolution that’s usually addressed with a compromise of some sort, and simply being told that i’m overreacting, overthinking or over-analyzing and i need to just learn how to deal with my emotions myself. i feel i deserve for the former.)

so maybe, the more that i write about how i feel, and realize how worthy i truly am and how deserving i am of having a better life for myself, and the fact that my ex and i truly weren’t and never will be a good fit for each other, the moving and separating process will be a little easier to bear. i don’t have much else to focus on other than locking down a place for myself, and juggling moving while still having to work. at least, positively speaking, i won’t have internet services up for a while so i can truly work on getting everything unpacked and get my new place set up as quickly as possible as the one thing that irks me is taking forever in unpacking everything and finding homes for things.

i want to start building myself a home. a place that truly is a sanctuary for myself, so then whenever i’ve had a rough day, i can come home and feel comfortable in the space i’m in and the skin i’m forced to retain.