eury
Fewer than 3 Posts
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What is your sexual orientation: Straight
Who in your life has "personality" issues: Ex-romantic partner
Posts: 2
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« on: April 14, 2018, 01:13:36 AM » |
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I feel guilty all the time. I can't look people in the eye. I feel like I might lose my mind any second. I have a fear of going outside because I think I might inadvertently hurt someone. And once I do, I know the guilt will follow me and like a domino effect cause more hurt to people around me. I avoid talking with people I love because I think anything I say might be understood as a slight to them, and this fear stops me from writing freely to anyone. I have to check and double check and triple check and edit (sometimes for an hour for a 4 line message) until I decide there is still a way it can be perceived as hurtful, so I delete the message and don't send it. I lost touch with people I love, I haven't spoken to my parents, my sister, or my friends for fear that I won't be able to share in their stories and my reaction to their stories will be "wrong" and they will see what I said as being hurtful, and it will be up to me to prove that it wasn't, so I should prepare for that happening and make sure my messages are so that there is minimal ways for them to be perceived as hurtful. This process makes my messages disjointed and aloof, and my friends don't want to continue the conversation. I feel on the verge of going insane and thinking the worst thoughts possible at all times. I feel like I have to keep myself busy so that I don't think about my memories and try to find instances where I have acted wrong or done something harmful to someone.
Living with extreme shame and guilt left me socially incapacitated. I am also unable to do certain things I was average at before. I used to be able to do basic math, now seeing numbers and the fear of having to calculate something is paralyzing, and I try to avoid it, and when I can't, it's a slow and undignified process.
Flashback to 5 years 7 months ago, when I was a 22 year old social, talkative, energetic, optimistic, well-liked person who got excited at the idea of talking to anyone, could easily approach and strike a conversation with strangers, and mostly felt happy with my lot in life. I was not ambitious, but I was content (give or take a few personal shortcomings that hindered my happiness at times, such as having a perfectionistic tendency), I liked living and I liked people.
Then I met a shy but intelligent boy who was in his second year in Engineering.
From meeting him, I could tell he was not like the show-off friends whose obnoxious behavior annoyed me. I saw him and I thought "he's real, like me." I was not perfect, I did not want to date at first and wanted to keep our relationship at a friends with benefits level, which made me feel super cool at the time. I thought we did not exactly match, but he was not judging me like my friends around me where, and when I was with him I would feel secure. We could share things openly, and not judge each other but accept each other's experiences. We liked the same kind of music, and had many nights going over the lyrics to songs and feel like we were sharing the same head space. With time I started spending more time with him, and less time with my friends.
Over time, our sharing deepened, and we started doing things like getting groceries and cooking together, sleeping for both nights of the week with each other, and sharing most everything with each other before anyone else. It was obvious that this was a full on relationship, and one day I admitted that I saw this as a relationship too. I felt guilty for all the time that he felt rejected by me and having to be in a relationship he felt insecure in, even though he could hide it and I could overlook it, but I thought it's better to look to the future and start this new journey together where he and I would be we and stand on equal ground.
I discovered that the past rarely stays in the past of course, and he had received deep wounds from our time as "friends," which he would point out to me and talk in detail. I felt guilty at having broken the heart of someone who was as good and pure as he was, and tried to make it up to him for having allowed myself to be in a vague relationship with him when I know he had deeper feelings for me.
It took a long time, and a lot of apologizing, and concessions on my part for him to be "over" this heartbreak. But in actuality he never let himself be over it.
During this time, I did not see my friends very often and would mostly spend my time with him. He did not have many friends, so I would feel bad when I socialized without him sometimes, and would cancel on my plans to hang out with him instead. He liked doing things together, and would be upset if I asked him whether he could do a chore alone. I thought my mom never liked to do things alone either, and would often blame my dad for not being a team player, so this reaction of mine must be wrong and his way must be the right way. I liked and was used to doing things by myself, but I liked doing them with someone as well, which was something I was experiencing for the first time. And after all, being a team player is the right way, right?
In time, I came to discover that most things that I thought were right were actually wrong, from the banal - cooking (this is how it's supposed to be done), cleaning (if you want to be thorough), personal hygiene (I was slimy!) - to the way I interacted - I did not care as much, I was selfish, I was indifferent, I was lazy. I told myself I will learn the better way and improve myself. I did not want to be selfish, indifferent, or lazy, I worked hard to prove myself to myself and to him, thinking I was finally in the right road in life.
At times I would connect with my old high school friends. Talking with them would fill me with a sense of self-esteem and strength, and I would think how I behaved was normal and perhaps he was too demanding. If nothing, during these times it would become clear to me that we were used to and liked doing things differently. I began to challenge his notions on how to do things. He would defend his point of view in nearly all of these talks, and it would take hours of effort on my part to get him to see why doing a certain thing my way was better in the long run. He would reluctantly admit that I might be right, but he would not always keep this mindset, and I had to continually remind him of my past arguments on the case when he tried to rescind his approval of the action. This was exhausting. I felt like I had to remember all the arguments we had so that if he tried to backtrack, I could remind him. If I forgot the points I brought up in a past argument, he would go full force into defending his old point of view and I had to argue my side all over again.
Over the years, I conformed to most of his ways, a lot of which were his family's ways, and he would compromise on some things and do it my way. There was a point in which I realized, I thought I would be a good influence on him and help him be a more courageous person, but he had changed me more.
Throughout all this time, he always wanted lots of attention and lots of outward showings of love. He could not get enough of being loved. He would often tell me that I loved being loved, and I would accept it and giggle. I thought, who doesn't love being loved? Although there was something about that sentence that did not feel right.
We did break up a few times. Each time, I would be filled with hope about my life, and go back to living on my own terms, and be filled with energy. But I would miss him, and one of us would message the other and we could rekindle our romance again.
I also cheated on him. I cheated on him once when we were "friends, but not really" with I guy I was in love with before him during the summer (I explicitly told him I would do this, and we ceased communication for the duration of that time), once in a one night stand with a guy from my friend group who was someone I saw as being not smart enough but who was energetic at parties, and once with another one night stand with a guy who I also saw as being not as smart but saw danced well on a drunk night. In each one night stands, I told myself that this relationship did not have a future and we would break up anyway, and I played the fool to myself and told myself I would just go with the flow of the night, which was going where I exactly guessed it was going.
He was heartbroken each time. I felt extreme shame and guilt, and rightly so, for having done this to him. I felt like a coward for not having broken up with him if I thought the relationship wasn't good, and instead cheated on him for thrills. My only excuse was that I did not have a romantic interest in either of these guys. In revenge for my affairs, he spent a summer with his ex girlfriend road tripping the US east coast and posting pictures together everyday. He ___ed a girl from his new friend group for revenge of my first one night stand. For my second one night stand affair, he was just listless.
Seeing him hurting like that killed me. His mom was diagnosed with cancer during that year, and he was just back from visiting her when he found out. It was brutal. I felt like evil reincarnated. I could not believe myself. How was I so thoughtless? My self-image shattered to pieces. I saw myself as dirt, lower than a piece of ___, and I started imagining myself as disgusting things in my head, coupling my self-identity with any disgusting thing I saw within my sight, and it there was nothing disgusting within vicinity, I would conjure images of the worst and repulsive things I could think of and think I was that thing. I could not stop myself doing this once I started, and even though it hurt and I felt like I was losing my soul for good, I also told myself I needed this punishment to learn. What I did was unacceptable. If I did not punish myself once and for all for this affair, I would cheat again in the future. For the most part, however painful it was, I think it worked. I now know what I am capable of doing to myself if I inflict this pain on another person again. I came very close to losing my mind in the process, however. I acted odd at best and outright crazy at worst.
Interestingly enough, my boyfriend watched this process from the sidelines most of the time. He would ignore clear warning signs that would have shown anyone else that this person needed professional help. I would vocally ask for help when I could speak, and a few times he spoke to me and I felt better at being able to communicate again. Other times he would sit beside me and play games on the tv. He would also put on tv shows, movies, things to watch back to back, and I hear the worst meaning in every word and he would laugh. I did not dare be angry with him though, because I thought I deserved this. Every night would bring me close to losing my mind again and feeling trapped in the darkest dungeons in my brain, but I thought I will simply have to ride this through.
He bore witness to my suffering, and enjoyed it. This fact would haunt me afterwards. I know that I broke his heart, but once I was able to think a bit more clearly, I asked myself what I would have done in this position. No matter how much he hurt me by cheating on me, I know that I could not sit and watch him lose his mind. That was too harsh a punishment for adultery, no matter how heartbreaking it is. Murderers don't get this punishment. Rapists don't get this punishment. I gave a guy a blowjob for 10 minutes and cheated on my boyfriend who had previously cheated on me (though this fact was mostly not mentioned, and we acted like it didn't happen, and focused on my infidelities instead), and who had, incidentally, cheated on his then girlfriend when he first met me. His explanation for this, to this day, and funnily enough, is that he thought that relationship did not have a future anyway.
This was a tumultuous time. (This word, or any word, is not enough to explain this time. Has your brain ever been to hell? Consecutively, for weeks on end? Would such a brain ever be able to go back to being intact? Can a trauma like this ever be fully overcome? Can the fear that was left in my brain and which I carry to this day ever be fully conquered?) Did I mention that he had sex with me when I was in this state? You would not want to know.
After this period, I became a meek person. I did not want to challenge myself, I was acting more normal, but I was afraid of watching anything that might bring back the memory of those nightmarish days (this word, is also not enough to explain this time). I did not want to go out, because I would feel like the boundaries of my brain were coming undone when I saw other people. I was afraid of everyone and everything. Most agonizingly, I was afraid to speak. I would speak in short sentences. I could no longer tell stories. I was afraid demons from the memory of those days would leak into my stories. I spoke in template sentences. I did not get pleasure from anything anymore. Life was dull, I just wanted the days to go by without me going crazy. Days that I only went a little crazy were a success for me. I congratulated myself on only losing my mind for a couple minutes in total on a given day. I started my first job during this time. I was weird and spooked the people around me. I did not recognize myself. There were moments I could laugh, but my laugh was nothing like my laugh used to be before. It was strained, it was fake, it had notes of pain in it. I forgot how I used to laugh.
I was suspicious of everybody. I did not trust anyone, and these included my parents, my sister, everybody I ever loved. I saw the worst in all the people I loved, and made them uncomfortable and sometimes out of nowhere attacked them with something I was saying. My relationships got tainted. People that were the closest to my heart and made me feel warm and secure felt distant from me. They still loved me, but spoke to me with caution. There were bright moments, seconds long, in some weeks that would keep me going.
I have not challenged myself too much for two years now. I still walk the streets afraid. I act nonsensical and crazy at times.
After all this, my boyfriend of 5 years and 7 months, would like to tell the story of how he was cheated on and how that broke his heart. He would like to justify his actions and think he was the one being wronged. I never denied that I wronged him, I often said this to him to remind him and myself of what I did. He took revenge by letting me lose my mind, torture me with cruel stories that I could not reply to, watch the fear in my eyes and continue playing with my mind, letting me think everything was my fault when I was weak and could not argue for the life of me, going over our memories and reconstructing them in ways that would leave me deeply confused, while continuing to take me out and walk by my side as the benevolent angel that was big enough to forgive me. He let me form a narrative that showed him in the best light and let me repeat it so many times without ever mentioning any possible fault of his own, that after two years I do not know myself. To this day he does not acknowledge the irreparable damage he let happen, actively did to me, and what he stole from me.
This guy thinks he’s good. After all the introspection I did, and extra attention I gave to my actions around him, concluding that I was a bad person. I cheated on him, but I cared for his thoughts, how he might get affected from my words, and how any action of mine would affect him everyday. He talked without caring, would not accept any responsibility for any of his actions, and would always try to prove himself right in every situation no matter the cost to me. He still made me believe that I was bad and he cared about me more.
I recently woke up from this dream I've been living. I am heartbroken, I am angry at myself, I don't know where to start. I hope to regain my sense of self and find meaning in my life again.
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