It’s yet another rainy April day.
I’m so tired of the weather reflecting my moods.
I’m more so tired of feeling the way I do. Depressed. Getting through each day. The struggle. The digging deep. Then digging deeper and coming up with nothing.
I broke up with my boyfriend of six-months twenty days ago. (Not that I’m counting or anything). If you’ve been reading any of the approximately 12 posts on this blog, you’ll know that breakups are something I’m very familiar with.
But this one has been different.
Relationships are very anxiety provoking for me, so I stay away from them if possible, and the first four months of our relationship were … interesting… everything moved really fast, I got freaked out and the resulting conversation led us to take a break in our relationship.
A month later, we tried again. This time, I decided to go all in; no holding back (ok just a little) but I was invested.
Two weeks later – HE pulled the plug leaving me very confused. “I love you. I just want to be friends.” His words said one thing, but his actions (even now) said something completely different.
The first week after our breakup, I didn’t say anything to him. I was BIG M A D. I was hurt. I was pissed off. I’d cut off someone else that was important to me because of this guy (not really, I cut him off for many other reasons, but I was mad ok?) I’d given up my time and energy to cater to him… and all I get was, “I’m just going to hurt you later… I don’t want to lose you”
How is breaking up with me “keeping me?”
a Part of me (a small part) was thankful for the honesty, but mostly I was suspicious. How do you tell me you love me more than any other girl, to Naaaah I don’t want this?
The other part of me loves him deeply and doesn’t want to lose him. He said he wanted to be friends right? Well, my nigga, we’s about to be F R I E N D S. Like you don’t even know.
So I called him.
And we’ve seen each other at least once a week since then.
The anxiety is still there but different.
Will this be the last time I see him? Is this the week that he stops talking to me?
I think I’m mad at God a bit too. I honestly felt when I met [hewhoshallnotbenamed] that God sent him to me for a reason. This was big for me since I hadn’t really given God much thought in the past four years.
I grew up in a very conservative Christian home and when I left, I wanted to leave everything behind. It wasn’t that I became an atheist, but more agnostic. Meeting [H] brought me much closer to God than I’d been in a long time.
H was everything I wasn’t. But in a good way.
H helped balance out parts of me that felt were all consuming.
H annoyed the crap out of me.
H made me feel safe.
I’ve never been so emotional about the things a person said to me.
H made me laugh.
I was comfortable around him.
I could be hella sarcastic. I could make fun of him. I enjoyed being with him.
The hardest part is filling those spaces of time where he used to be. The phone calls, the texts, the snaps, the nights spent cuddled together.
I get that my story isn’t unique. I get that people go through this every day. HELL, I’ve already gone through it more times than I can count.
But this time is different. This time makes all those other ones pale in comparison.
I don’t know what the end of this story will be.
I just now that I’m tired. Tired of feeling this way.
I know it will get better, but how?
I know one day I’ll wake up and it will be a week since I’ve heard from him, then two.
I know one day I’ll wake up and he wont be the first person I think about.
I know one day I’ll wake up and be able to breathe.
But that day is not today.