Edit: This post is pathetic as all hell, but I was told that and needed to hear that. Thanks for telling me what I didn't like but needed to hear, goons.
You may remember me from such threads as
http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3572902, in which I 'broke up' with somebody because I wanted them to prove they loved me or something (I still don't know what I was getting at. I didn't see it ended. I sabotaged it) and it all went to hell.
Let me give a summary.
Was dressed like a mime on Saturday, for a housewarming. I was off-meds, having been without my SSRIs or HRT for two weeks. Partially through choice and partially through doctor's fuckups. But I felt stable enough. A little hyperactive, but stable.
All was fine. Good housewarming. First time at social event with Ex-boyfriend also present – He said he had been going to an event in London, but I was too much of a coward to tell him that it was not ok that he changed his mind at the last minute and was going to the same thing I was going to.
But it was going fine. All fine.
First, the miaowing. This sounds weak, doesn't it? Just a noise. We used to do this to each other all the time. Around the house, to show affection. Silly, really, that it hurt. But I stayed strong – After all, who could have known? Not malicious. Drank some more.
Sitting down. Thinking about leaving, but still happy. Look over, see J and ex. J is a man who I had an abortive sexual experience with roughly a year ago, which was the precipitating event for a major depressive episode at that time. Ex is sitting there, eyes closed in pleasure, having his head carassed by J. I quickly step outside – perhaps too quickly to be going for a cigarette, as J apparently noticed my ill-ease. He steps outside, asks me if I'm ok. I forget what I said. I go back inside. Gather up my things. Try to leave cheerfully, but I know nobody believes it. The speed at which I am leaving has betrayed me. They could not have thought that I couldn't see - there are less than 10 people in the small room.
When I step outside, I try to relieve the tension by screaming into the air. This doesn't help, though somebody (unsure who) runs to the balcony above. I bark out, “what?!” to them, adrenaline from the scream still in me. I start walking home, getting more angry as I walk – At the VERY first social event we have both been at, in FRONT of me? But it's ok. I'm going away from there. Can go home and calm down. I keep drinking.
I get home. I left my keys and phone at the flat.
I walk back, trying to calm myself down. Just go inside, get your keys. It's fine. Don't even have to look at him. Don't have to talk.
I get to the buzzer, I try to buzz myself in. For some reason, this takes two attempts. I realise I'm very, very drunk at this point, as I have almost finished my 70cl bottle of rum.
As I walk up the stairs, there is Ex. On the stairs. In front of me. Him! On the stairs. With my keys.
The caldera bursts. I grab my things and begin to lay into him, quietly at first then raising to a shout. He has ruined my life, I say. I'm not sure this is true – My life is surely ruined, I can feel it collapsing around me. I have dropped out of my MA, I am barely leaving the house, I have lost multiple stones of weight, and because of the events I am describing to you now I have burned bridges with everybody in Oxford. It's true that all of this is linked to the breakup, which happened at the worst possible time. At the advent of a new, intense course; just as my mum got cancer; at a point where I was feeling deeply depressed. But, I could have stopped it. I could have been a better partner. Part of the pain of seeing him there with J was the knowledge not he had just become this silent, callous person to me, and not to everybody else. He was still this cute, quiet boy to everybody else. And I was the crazy ex-girlfriend.
So, I lay into him. I tell him he has ruined my life. I accuse him of acting deliberately to hurt me the most he possibly can. I say terrible, terrible things. I tell him I am about to jump in front of a bus, and that “if you had any decency, you would be next, you little shit of a human being”. Adrenalined by this vile outburst, I leave the flat. My head is swimming, and a kind of ecstasy overtakes me – I feel, finally, like I have destroyed my life sufficiently to have an excuse to kill myself. This is it – I will finally do it. No more pain. He is following me. I raise my fist, not intending to hit him, and he shrinks back. I see a car approaching, and run towards it. It brakes hard. No impact.
Ex approaches again. Both through anger and some perverse desire to destroy my life even further, destroy any chance of ever being seen as anything other than a monster, I strike him against the side of the head. He cries for help. I keep walking, he does not follow this time.
I see my chance again. A car, about to turn onto the pedestrianised area. I drop my stuff, and run towards it. There is an impact, but the car was only going fast in my imagination. My arm hurts a little, but no damage.
I turn to ex, all a fury. Two strangers grab me and start to talk to me, pressing me against a wall, telling me he isn't worth it (I am unsure how they know situation). I'm not listening.
Eventually I make it home. Have lost phone, wallet, and dignity. Arm hurts.
I have destroyed any chance of being seen as anything other than a monster, a crazy ex.
My life is ruined, but I don't know who ruined it. No. I know it was me. Ex did not force me to be this depressed about this. Ex did not force me to drop out of my MA. Ex did not force me to be this much of a thin-skinned loon.
I know who controls the narrative. I know how this will play out. Among that group, my only local friends, the matriarch controls the narrative, and hates me for not being teetotal, not being a giant damn child like the rest of them.
Was I acting without reason? Or was it a calculated move, designed to destroy all bridges from a life that was causing me pain? Have I only been trying to make things easier to justify suicide (although, I cannot. While sober I know the pain it will cause my family would be too much. Usually, while drunk, I simply become too numbed to act. On this night, rage was added in to the mix)
I am a broken shell of a person. I find myself desperately wishing that I could kill myself, but I cannot because of the pain that it would cause others. Only a month ago, me and him were happily walking around Wales. I was just starting a great MA. I was clean, tidy, living well. Everything is gone. I don't know how to get it back.
So that's that, goons. Hi. Hi hi. Hi.
