Sunday, August 23, 2015

Jilted

In my last post, I talked a lot about all the crap that has happened to me. I also described the moment when The Captain showed up out of nowhere and asked me to marry him.

Well, one week from today, he broke up with me. Told me he didn't love me anymore. That he probably hasn't for quite a while.

This is a difficult thing to write about, because he will probably read this, and I don't want it to sound like a letter to him. I need to write this for myself, and it's hard to do so knowing that certain people are going to read it.

I am very upset with him, because I loved (still do, probably) him with all my heart and planned on growing old with him. I was willing to sacrifice a lot for him, because I loved him more than anything else in my life. He talked about how he didn't want me to give up my dreams for him, and I would try to convince him that he was my dream. And he was.

But there is no denying that he and I had gone through some problems over the past six months are so, even before we got engaged. He would comment on how much I'd changed since I'd gone to college, and that it was hard to get used to. Yes, I have changed. I know I have. But it's for the better. I'm a little more independent, a little more capable of taking care of myself, a little more functional. He found that odd. He wanted to take care of me more than he thought I wanted, which wasn't necessarily true. Yes, he nagged about a lot of inconsequential things, and yes, he never realized how much I was actually accomplishing without his help. He didn't realize how much I'd grown up, which caused tension between us.

But ultimately he was my stronghold. He helped me learn all those things. He helped me learn how to love myself, how to function. He gave me a lot of my self-esteem. He built up my trust over two and half years and he knew practically everything about me. Everything that doesn't get on this blog, everything that doesn't get told to my other friends. And in one morning, he broke all of that down.

I feel like I'm starting back at the beginning. I don't like leaving my room, I'm afraid to go out, I have no self-esteem, I'm too depressed to even get up. And this happened right before school started. His timing has never been great.

I have so many friends here and back in Birmingham. So many people who care about me and ask how I'm doing and make sure I'm okay. My best friend from high school came and stayed with me for a few days, and if not for her I don't know what would've happened during those hours. Another friend brought me coffee and then continued to come over just about every day when I asked. Others have banded together to go after the Captain (but I told them not to). They make me laugh.

But they're not around all the time and all it takes is one moment of silence to make me feel alone.

What do you do when the person who taught you how to love yourself doesn't love you anymore?

What have you done to become unlovable?

These are dumb questions, and I know the right answers to them. The right answer is that I have done nothing wrong, that I am still the same person as before, that my self-esteem should not hinge on one person, that a person who can break me into so many pieces doesn't deserve my love anyway. That I am a strong independent woman, that I am a pretty girl, that I am a pretty good dancer, that I get good grades, that I have a lot of friends who love me, that I'm capable of doing something with myself after college besides marrying the Captain. That God has made all this happen for a reason, and that I have learned a lot from this experience and have not wasted the past three years of my life on a boy who promised me everything and then took it all back.

Those are the right answers. But those aren't the answers I tell myself.

I have done something wrong. I shouldn't be so independent. I shouldn't have left for school. I shouldn't have been so vocal about my dislike of Birmingham and my dreams of going somewhere else. I changed for the worse. I should have relied on him more, not tried to be myself. I am a needy nuisance, an annoying person to be around. I am not pretty enough, I'm not even a good dancer, my grades are only adequate, and people only hang around me because I ask them to. I wasn't physical enough, I don't like sex. I'm not romantic enough.

I'm mentally incapable of holding a full-time job, so I will end up living in my mother's house in Birmingham and hate myself for it. I will never stop cutting myself, never beat it. I will probably become an alcoholic. And one day I will take my own life because that last straw will fall and break and my feeble world I've built will shatter for the last time.

Those are lies, but they sound like truth in my ears. They play on repeat constantly, no matter how much I try to drown them out with music, TV, school, friends. I can't block them out.

The right thing to do is to make this sound inspirational and talk about God and maybe quote a Bible verse and talk about how I don't know what will happen in my future but that it's for the best and maybe that I can't wait to find out what God has in store.

But I'm not there yet. I'm not as strong or good as my blog makes me appear. I know how to manipulate my life to make it sound inspiring. I don't lie. I just sit down and write until I feel better.

But I still don't feel better. Nothing has changed. Sometimes I really don't know if it ever will.