It’s been a week since my last post. A lot happened.
I spent last weekend with my parents and came back to my apartment Sunday evening. I was feeling many emotions on the way back, and knew that I couldn’t continue pretending like I was okay. My boyfriend was home when I arrived, and we talked about the situation again. I told him I needed more space and time. My idea was to leave the apartment for a month so I can be alone with my feelings. He was sad to hear this, but reluctantly agreed.
I left the following day. I waited for him to get home from work before I left, and we spent our last time together in bed. Up until this point I was experiencing the most intense combination of emotions I’d ever allowed myself to feel. I hated myself for it, and I hated myself for feeling like I was on fire when I was around him. It was like my body was recoiling from being close to him. I desperately sought answers, and the easiest answer I came up with was that it must mean I don’t want to be with him. A part of me wanted to believe this, but another part of me wanted to dig deeper to understand what was happening. I thought the only way to do this was to leave. We held each other tightly and sobbed. He couldn’t bear the sadness and asked me to leave. As I kissed him one last time, he asked me, “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you abandoning me? I don’t deserve this.”
I waited outside for my best friend to pick me up. It was cold and dark. I clutched my pillow tightly, buried my face in it and wept. She arrived soon after and drove us to her apartment where I’d be spending the month away.
Since I’ve been here, I’ve been focused on going to work, reading and getting rest. She suggested I read a book called “Conscious Loving: The Journey to Co-Commitment.” I’ve been reading it every chance I get, and discovering new things about myself in the process. I’ve gotten upset and cried when I felt like parts of the book were written for me.
I’ve truly not allowed myself to feel emotions for a long time. I’ve always prided myself in being calm, collected, patient and in control. Now I have no choice but to confront reality: I’m angry, fearful, sad, and out of control. I feel I hate myself more because I feel these feelings. I’ve hidden these feelings from myself because of my traumatic past. I’ve never learned to love myself. I’ve never felt whole. I foolishly believed that being in love with someone would make me happy. It’s not true. Looking for someone to fulfill this happiness is no one’s responsibility. It’s my own. I never understood that until recently.
I had my first therapy session this week. I was brought up to believe that therapy was silly, so I didn’t have a positive attitude about it before. But I feel differently about it now that I’ve taken this step toward understanding myself. I need help, and my therapist warmly told me he’ll support me every step of the way. A part of me feels strongly skeptical and pessimistic about the outcome. This is why I need therapy. I need to break down the distorted belief system that I’ve adopted since childhood.
I feel disconnected from the world. I’m withdrawn. I feel so far away from everyone. It’s like that scene in “Gravity” where Sandra Bullock’s character is spiraling out of control in space. She’s distant and alone. Even though I’m spending another weekend with my family, I feel lonely. There’s a tightness in my chest that makes me breathe a little slower. The burn spreads down to my stomach. I don’t like how I feel. The critical, disappointed, and hopeless voice in me won’t stop destroying me.
What’s beyond these layers of emotions? What will I find at the core? In the book I’m reading, it says that at the bottom of it all is love.