On Breaking Up...

by - Wednesday, September 04, 2019

Things had been going well. 

I was happy. I was in an (undefined) relationship. My first in over five years. 

I’d made some major adult decisions, and was okay with them (cancelling my “once in a lifetime” trip because I just didn’t feel like I’d be in a good enough financial place to make it happen).  Getting my line of credit debt down.  You know... adulting...

And then...

The relationship ended. I got the “I don’t have time for more than this in my life”, which I interpret to mean that the relationship either needed defining (we were exclusive, but weren’t at a time where we were doing things like making life decisions with the input of each other or anything) or ending. He wasn’t ready for more, after coming from a marriage that ended in adultery on the part of his ex-spouse that I still think he was dealing with. Or not dealing with as it may be. 

I felt the demise over the course of a week. We were on vacation together (one of those decisions that I regret now, but at the time also knew it would make or break the relationship), and throughout the week, he continued to pull back with each passing day, until the end, when we returned home, he couldn’t help me pack my car fast enough for me to go to my place. 

I knew then, but still had a faint glimmer of hope that it wasn’t over and that he just needed time, that it was over. 

Two weeks later, after random ghosting and a complete lack of communication, came the “we need to talk” chat.

It lasted all of five minutes, of which I think four were us sitting there in silence. I didn’t cry, but I certainly didn’t express my feelings, as I was fighting the frog in my throat the entire time. 

Since then, I have been experiencing some of the worst anxiety I’ve ever had. I’ve struggled with mental health for much of my adult life (and probably before then too, I just either don’t or choose not to remember or didn’t know how to define things), and had gone off my meds when the going was good. And sadly it takes three or so weeks to have those meds start working again... and those three weeks have been the last three weeks. I started taking my meds the day I got back from our vacation. I knew I’d need their help. 

It’s so bad that I’ve cried at work. Multiple times. I have great friends that have offered support, but I haven’t really taken them up in the offers. I’ve hermited myself. I’ve spent the last three days in bed. The mornings are rough. I can’t escape the feeling of dread until around lunchtime each day, which really sucks given that I’ve taken to getting up between 3 and 5am each morning. That’s a long time to lay there with your heart and brain racing. 

And I started counselling. I know I can get through this, but I don’t want to ever enter into another episode like I’ve had the past three weeks without some techniques to deal. As I told the counsellor, I don’t feel hopeless, I feel helpless. 

I’ve started meditating. Meditating has been able to get my body calm, but it hasn’t been able to calm my mind. I’ve run every conversation we’ve had through my head dozens of times. With this anxiety has also come work anxiety - normally it wouldn’t be an issue, but I’m just so overwhelmed right now. I question everything I’ve done. I stress over all of the stuff I need to do. My high standards are working against me. 

What if I’m alone forever?

What if I never find anyone that accepts me as me, with the flaws that I have, but also with all that I can offer?

What if I can’t shake this feeling of dread and despair? The feeling that there is something wrong with me?

I know I can be happy with myself. But I also know that I can be happy with someone right for me. 

What if that person is out there, but I never find them?

These are not things I expected to be grappling with in my forty second year, especially because it started off with such promise... the beginning of a relationship. 

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