I Loved Him

Maybe it is the holiday's. Maybe the darkness of the season. Maybe it is seeing the depth of my Grandparents love since my Grandfather had a stroke. Yeah, that's probably it. Whatever the reason, I have been thinking about how much I loved Andrew, and just how hurt I am upon reflecting that I do not think that love was returned, at least not in the same way.

I remember one of the last interactions I had with him was finding a spiral notebook and flipping for a clear sheet of paper, I came across what appeared to be a list of some sort. After reading it, it was the most heart-wrenching list I had ever read in my life. He had made a list of things he wanted in a woman - these are the things I remember: someone younger, thinner, into more activities, more fun... Those are just what I remember, the list was much longer.

As you can imagine, then, as well as now, I just cried. The kind of tears that come from a dark and broken place.  He didn't love me. How long ago was it that he fell out of love with me? Why didn't he talk to me about what he wanted? Instead, alone, I found his list of wants. I am not getting any younger, I am certainly not thin, I didn't understand what he meant about activities, since I always asked him to do things and he was never interested in doing them - did he offer ideas? no. I guess I am no fun either. Reading these things felt like a punch in the tummy, the face. I felt beat up.

You are probably wondering if I confronted him. I did. I tearfully handed him the list, and simply walked away. He said he was so sorry that I had read it, and that he never intended for me to find it.

I did find it. Even though it was a year and a half ago, the wound is still fresh. It still oozes. It has infected my sense of self and overall worth as a woman, as a partner.

Tortured

I hate living like this. When the fear of abandonment comes haunting my thoughts, all my brain does is assure me of my imminent death. My heart pounds, my stomach cramps, my limbs shake, I cry. While in this state, I can't eat, I can't sleep. I feel like I am trapped and there is no way out.

This fear is deep and pronounced, almost primal. I try and breathe, but it is as if my breath does nothing, like my lungs are steel, and no air is moving in or out. My body goes into a survival mode - shut down time. I am jittery and nervous. I can feel my whole body; the blood moves in my veins, the electricity in my brain fires. My muscles shaking. I am alert and aware of all sounds and movements. I cannot rest.

Eventually, I pray that exhaustion will take over, because feeling like this is unbearable.  It is at these moments I find myself fantasizing about death, anything to make these feelings STOP! But my fear of death stops me from really carrying out any plan. I wonder if there will be a day that the desire for the feelings to stop will finally overtake my fear of death - this thought makes me scared and sad.

I am trapped in this ball of anxiety, fear, dread. Trapped & tortured.