so last time I wrote, I started to talk about my brain. And self esteem. It gets deeper and darker with this next post. Some horrible things happened, and I don’t normally tell people these kind of things for a fear of sounding melodramatic or really full of myself. Read part one here
So where I left my story last time was a bit of a crap cliff hanger. I got over-whelmed with writing, and this information needs to have it’s own space. Some of you may know, that I have bouts of anxiety and that I have a massive panic about life from time to time. There are two main reasons for it. The next two posts about this kind of run at the same time, so I’ve done a Game of Thrones and written two instalments.
You remember that when I moved here, I used to try to buy friendship. I tend to think that I am human trash; and basically everyone around me is just putting up with me. I always think, that one day, I am going to be so annoying that everyone will just leave and I’ll be back to where I was before. Desperately wanting for people to like me that I just buy them whatever to keep them around.
My first massive serious relationship started when I was around 21. I had dated, but never to the point where I had fallen in love, or lived with a significant other. This was different.
At first my relationship with A was bliss. We met on a night out, exchanged numbers and had a few dates. Dates meaning, we would go on nights out, never really times where we got to know one another. Eventually that started to be hanging out with each other. Then that was all it was. We never seemed to do anything that was just us in public. It was always either a large group, or a couple of friends with us.
I’m ashamed to say that I wanted to be everything he wanted. Instead of worrying about whether he was everything I wanted, I spent my time listening to each little thing he said, and crafting myself a different persona. A would be sneaky, and controlling. I’m mostly mad at myself really for letting this happen. But I was blindsided by what I thought was love at the time.
He would gently coax me into changing my style. Saying things like “Are you sure you want to wear that?” and “me and my friends think those kind of trousers look weird” were frequently said. Even now, I’m internally thinking that he didn’t mean to be controlling but honestly, I think he did. He made me feel crap about myself as a person, victim blaming me for any time anyone upset me, and discounting my feelings by telling me I was ‘too sensitive’ He pointed out what he considered to be short comings, telling me I was annoying, and that any creative endeavours I wanted to do were stupid. He was not supportive, I was told I was too nice, too weird, to sarcastic.
If I could tell past me anything, it would be that “you are worth something” At this time in my life, I was constantly second guessing myself. I stopped going out at the weekend. I stopped seeing my best friend. I basically was only friends with him and his friends. I had no one to call my own. All of my work colleagues I had become close with were “annoying”. I just think that he didn’t like me talking to anyone else but him. Otherwise I probably would’ve seen what he was doing a lot sooner.
We moved in together. At first it felt good. I was a grown up! I had my own place. Not that I was allowed to have any say in what we did there, or how the place looked or even what we had for dinner. He would suggest something, if it wasn’t made then moodiness and silence were what happened.
We moved a few times. Eventually moving in with his mum. A wanted us to save for buying a house together. I didn’t want to. Not because I didn’t want to own a home, but perhaps I didn’t want to own a home with him. Somewhere subconsciously, I knew something wasn’t quite right.
Shortly after, A decided he didn’t know what he wanted. Call it a mid life crisis at the age of 28, call it the beginning of the end. I was suddenly single. I cried. I grieved. I healed. Then he came back. Honeyed words dropped into my ear and I felt wanted. He needed me. Wanted to be with me again. All of a sudden I was back under his spell.
My friend I lived with at the time had fallen in love and decided to move in with her partner. I was looking at flats, and saying to one of A’s friends that I needed to find somewhere to live soon. A shouted at me in the pub in front of a crowd of people that “it was blatantly obvious I would be moving in with him” we hadn’t even discussed it, I felt forced and trapped.
I started to rebel. Going out more. Having fun. Loving my life again. I think at this point I could see a future where I was happy, and perhaps A wasn’t a part of it at all. And it was exhilarating to me. I didn’t care what he thought anymore. I always know that there is a lot I’m willing to put up with, but once you cross a line. Game over. I’m done. No more.
I was getting very close to this point.
He started what I now know is monitoring me on nights out. At the time I thought it was sweet. That it meant he cared. Really it was an extension of the control that I’d experienced all my life. Maybe that’s why it felt so easy and simple for it to carry on. Maybe that’s why it felt normal at the time.
Each time he’d turn up, at first would be great. He’d start of by saying he missed me so much he wanted to see me.
Then, it would change. I’m a friendly person. I will talk to anyone who wants a chat on a night out. Not in a flirty way, but in a way that I want everyone to have a great night. If it was a male I was talking to, he would take me aside and ask if I was trying to upset him. He would hit walls, and doors and tables. I knew he would never hit me, and he didn’t; but I got yelled at, accused of cheating every single day.
I cried each and every time because it chipped away at my soul. Every time he made me cry in public, or myself to sleep, or alone. A part of me broke away. Or hardened. I’m not sure which.
I put up my defences, and shut everyone out. I acted like I didn’t care. But deep, deep down I was that scared 18 year old inside that wanted to be liked.
This has been so painful and incredibly hard to write. There are a number of positives about me I have gotten from this.
I wear what I like. I don’t follow trends. I love and wear regularly each item of clothing I have. I tell people they are beautiful, I compliment people if I see something they’re wearing that I like. I’m planning to compliment strangers more too.
I am kind. I try and be nice to every single person I meet. If they’re an arsehole, they are cut out. I don’t need that bullshit.
I don’t stand for bullying. If I can sense something that someone else is doing or saying is upsetting someone, I speak out. I ask the other person if they are okay.
There are so many more amazing things about me, but my hands hurt, my heart hurts and my brain hurts.