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No Apologies

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The best way to fall in love is without fear. You close your eyes and you let it take over you and lead you. You fall so hard and so fast, you feel like years have passed by when indeed it’s only been months.

But there’s a risk with that.

Like jumping out of a plane, sometimes your parachute doesn’t open.

That’s what I’ve been feeling like the last few days. I took that leap, my parachute didn’t open, and now that I’ve landed, I’ve been left broken. Broken body, broken soul, and a broken heart.

I’m not going to pretend like everything is good. I’ve ended a toxic relationship, yes, but that doesn’t make me happy. My friends say, “Well it’s great that you’re doing this now, rather than years later.”

If it’s so great, why doesn’t it feel that way?

Why can’t I let go of this anger? Why can’t I release these tears that have been building up? Why can’t I do anything else besides think of him and hope that he’s just as miserable and broken hearted as I am?

Is it so bad to want to feel like you meant something to someone? That your presence in their life was so significant that they’ll always compare everyone else to you? That when they’re lying in bed at night, trying to go to sleep, that they’ll think of you and wonder how you are?

I guess if I’ve learned anything from this, it’s that when they’re a sackless, conceited, narcissistic sociopath, normal rules don’t apply.

 

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Delete and Restart

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“We haven’t talked in days. Does this mean we’re breaking up or we’re taking time apart?” I asked him in a text.

“I don’t really know. I’m not feeling too good today. I had too much of Charlie’s homemade plum wine last night.”

“I’ve been back and forth on the idea. We both deal with stress in unhealthy ways. But when we’re both happy, we’re good,” I said. “At least that’s what I think. I don’t know what you think.”

“Do what you think is good for you. I told you I’m not feeling good. If I want to talk about it, it’ll be tomorrow. Thanks.”

I hit a brick wall with him again. I’ve been hitting a lot of brick walls with him. I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to get anywhere. He was a 46 year old man with the emotional age of a 5 year old boy.

“Actually that kinda sounds like an answer to me,” I said. “Take care.”

Those were my last words to him. He had turned cold and unresponsive within a span of days. I realized I had put myself out on an emotional ledge, only to find that I was standing there all by myself.

I proceeded to delete him. I removed him from my address book. I deleted our chat history. I wanted no trace of him left. I didn’t want to leave any room for any second thoughts about what I was choosing to do.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I was so frustrated, so angry with myself. How could I have fallen in love so quickly and so deeply with someone who was a completely immature, selfish, narcissistic psychopath? How could I have let this man into my life? I will never know or understand.

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The Line in the Sand

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My therapy sessions always begin the same way. She asks me what’s been going good lately and I reply. She said it’s a good way to start a session.

But this time, it was really hard for me to come up with a list of things that were going right in my life because all I could think of was what was going wrong.

Should I start with the fact that Brian’s drinking has increased from a couple times a week to almost every day?

What about the fact that we were fighting more often and we were just making each other feel more and more awful with each fight?

Or maybe I was so stressed out and unhappy that I was shoveling food into my mouth compulsively, almost making myself sick at times?

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The Proverbial Candle in the Dark Room

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I think I’ve made a breakthrough in my therapy. A few weeks ago, my therapist gave me a worksheet. It had 5 columns on it: Physical, Mental, Emotional, Spiritual, Social. In each column there were about 3 pages of ideas, things related to the column header. She told me to put a star next to the ones I was already doing, and circle the ones I’d like to try.

After completing the worksheet, I felt a kind of excitement that I haven’t felt in a long time. When you graduate from college, you have no more homework assignments, no more professors to be accountable to, no more end goal to reach.

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What a Difference a Day Makes

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I’ve been seeing a therapist for a month now and so far it’s been really good. She encourages me to set goals at each session and helps me focus on being positive. This is what I needed. Structure and focus.

Brian and I are together again. It wasn’t until after my first session with my therapist that I decided I needed to work on our relationship. I was equipped with new tools for dealing with my emotions and working on my communication skills. There were things about us that I couldn’t let go of, like how perfectly imperfect we were together.

I let him in on some of the things I talk about in my therapy sessions, like how I’m trying to learn to address things as they come up rather than letting them sit unaddressed.

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The Occasional Words and Photos from Kristine Macabare