2 Years

It’s almost 2 years to the date since I last posted. I didn’t plan that, I couldn’t have. I had trouble logging into my account because I had so far removed this blog from my head/mind.*

Even further removed is/was the fact it is still registered under my college email address. The email address that I probably will never open again as long as I live. The inbox that is so full of messages I probably can’t even receive them anymore. That inbox. The one I left alone and then never checked after I took a leave of absence. Concern from teachers and advisors. Stern sentiments from the professors whose classes I never attended, except for the first handful at the start of the semester. “I’m sorry” I’d say, every time. And I was, but I always had trouble looking them in the eyes. In truth, I was sorry for missing those classes. I was also sorry for my own existence; the fact that I grew from microscopic embryonic cells into this pathetic, utter failure of a 22-year old.

Mental and physical health collided approximately one year ago and I tunneled my way so far into my own gopher’s hole of depression and anxiety that I didn’t think I’d ever get out. One step forward, two steps back. One step forward, three steps back. Too many steps forward–too much progress–too many things to lose–back into the gopher’s hole I go.

*I’m reminded of the song by The Fray “You Found Me.” “I’ve been calling, for years and years and you never left me no messages.” Sounds like my depression. Except I pick up the phone. Every.damn.time.

Update 3/11

Sigh. I haven’t been posting. I’ve had the time, I just haven’t had the mental energy to assess my life while putting words to a page.

Things are relatively okay. They weren’t. And then they were. And then they weren’t again. But now things are starting to normalize. Granted, I’ve never really been one for “normal.”

I wanted to post today because I have something on my mind. Specifically, my Ex. Way back in my earlier posts I didn’t call him my Ex because we never technically “dated.” Whatever. An “Ex” is the best way I can describe him without resulting to profanity or unnecessary adjectives. He’s always somewhere in the back of my head because I have OCD and that’s what OCD does. Yes, indeed you can fixate on a person, even when that person is terrible, manipulative, selfish, and cruel. I want to let go, but I feel like I’m not ready yet. That’s not an excuse. The idea of closure has long been crossed off the list. I feel as though I still have something to learn from this experience, but I’m not sure what.

What I’m about to type could be construed as immature, nasty, spiteful—you name it. The truth is, that’s human nature. And at this point, I need to get it out.

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Today I found out my Ex is going out of town for NYE. I should be excited, right? I should be relieved that I don’t have to worry about running into him. I should be at ease knowing I can go wherever I want and do whatever I want without him being there.


I haven’t seen him in two months. We haven’t spoken. Nothing. No texts. No emails. No nothing. For some reason, I had this idea in my head that “well hey, at least I’ll see him on NYE.” I shouldn’t want to. But I do. I’m not sure why. Part of me feels like I have something to prove. Part of me hopes that he’ll see me and hurt…that he’ll finally realize what he’s lost. I don’t want to get back together. I truly, honestly don’t. But I want to see him. Or hear from him. Anything. I guess I want to know that he hasn’t moved on.

It was nice knowing that even if I wouldn’t see him from the time span of October-December, at least I’d see him at some point; that point was NYE. And when I did, I wouldn’t be caught off guard. It was just so comforting knowing I would see him again. I mean, we’ll run into each other, it’s inevitable. I just want it to be sooner rather than later. Again, I’m not entirely sure why.

There’s a bit of nostalgia in place, too. I spent the last two New Year’s with my Ex. Both times we were on rocky terms, but we were still at each other’s sides. Sort of. For two years now, I’ve woken up next to him on January 1st. This year I’ll be waking up alone. Part of this is due to my own choosing, the other part is fear driven. I don’t like change, and this is certainly change. It’s not that I thought that things would be the same year after year. Although, it was so nice having someone. Despite their faults and their tendency to be a complete asshole. 

Tomorrow is my birthday. I’ll be 22. I’ve come to terms with the fact that he won’t call or try to contact me. I shared so much with him. More than I’ve ever shared with a person. And currently more than I ever want to. The relationship was a mess. No, we never “dated.” But it was the closest I’ve ever come to loving someone. I contacted him on his birthday last year. It both breaks my heart and infuriates me that he won’t do the same. I hate myself for wanting him out of my life while simultaneously refusing to close the door.  

I don’t know what to do. There’s nothing I can do. Granted, I could pick up the phone and call him. That would be backsliding. I’ve come too far for that. Sigh. I just want to see him.

Rejection Sucks

This is relatively minor, but I thought I’d write about it because it’s going to bother me.

There’s this guy and…
we were talking about being friends with benefits. I don’t want a relationship, he doesn’t either, I’m ridiculously attracted to him, yadda yadda yadda. Frankly, I don’t care if it ended up being just about sex. In fact, that’s kind of what I was hoping for. Anyway, he decided hooking up wasn’t a good idea because we know a lot of the same people. He’s also been in similar situations that ended poorly…with lots of gossip involved. I’m kind of disappointed because it had the potential to be fun. We don’t talk as much since we put hooking up “on ice” (as he called it). Which means it isn’t going to happen. I messaged him today asking him about his Thanksgiving and he didn’t respond. Which is disappointing. And frustrating. So now I feel like a needy, desperate idiot. I wish I hadn’t messaged him. I wish I had just let it go and played the “aloof” card. How embarrassing. Also: I look like I care, which is way against my typical Code of Conduct. Feelings = bad. It totally won’t matter a few months from now. I just get frustrated because the guys/men I am attracted to aren’t attracted to me. Go figure. Ughhh. I tried. Time to let this one go. I just wish it could be different and could have worked out. Naturally, I want to doubt myself. I’m not pretty enough/smart/talented/interesting/fun/etc etc etc. Ughhh, why can’t he just respond?


I really, really hate the Holidays. They used to be wonderful when I was a kid. All of my family would be in town and we’d have big celebratory dinners. My birthday is on Christmas Eve, so I’d spend the day with my Cousins and then we’d all have dinner together that evening. Christmas morning we’d have brunch and then reconvene one last time for dinner.

Now that I’m older, everything is different. My cousins have wives and families of their own. They’ve moved away. Traveling would be difficult for them, especially with their (very young) children. My mom had a falling out with her other sister, so we don’t see them anymore. My dad isn’t close to any of his family, so they’ve always been out of the picture. Basically it’s just me and my parents, just like any other day of the year. Nothing’s special about it anymore.

Last year I spent my birthday at the emergency vet. Literally, that’s what I did the entire day. I can’t turn to my friends because they go back to visit their own families. Very few people stay in town.

I also have a lot of food-related issues/body image issues, so Holidays centered around food are extremely difficult for me. And no, I can’t just “eat like a normal person.”

I spent all day Thursday in bed. Literally. I got out of bed around 6pm, got something to eat, and then went back to bed. I’ve been marathoning the TV show Happy Endings, which is good, but it doesn’t exactly take away all of the misery pooling inside me.

My mom snapped at me when I got out of bed and I started crying in the middle of the kitchen. I AM SO DEPRESSED. And this time I don’t feel like doing anything about it. I don’t feel like fighting. I don’t feel like forcing myself to get out of the house. I don’t want to do anything. Or go anywhere. My heart is heavy. Everything hurts; literally and metaphorically. I’m so tired of feeling this way, but I feel completely powerless to do anything about it.

I’m also anxious because I haven’t gotten any homework done. I was planning on using break to study for finals. That didn’t happen. It’s already Saturday at 3pm and I have nothing done that needs to be done. I’m so behind. This is what people don’t fucking tell you about depression and it pisses me off so much. Depression triggers anxiety which triggers more anxiety which then triggers depression and it just gets WORSE AND WORSE. I feel paralyzed and powerless to do anything but cry and sleep.


Every time I think of the image of his arm around her waist my heart stops and my stomach lurches. I wish I could un-see everything. 

Their interactions make me realize that they’ve probably been seeing each other for a few weeks (ish) and it makes me feel like such a silly, naive fool. One that thought somewhere deep down he still cared. 

“Better Off”

Here’s the thing about OCD: It doesn’t care if you broke up with someone a year ago. To the disorder, it might as well have been yesterday. All of the thoughts are still fresh. Oh, and if they weren’t fresh, they are now, because you’ve started fixating on them. Again.

“Dude, it’s been like a year, he’s a super shitty person. Shouldn’t you be over it by now?”
YES. A MILLION TIMES YES. But I have this incessant noise in my brain that seems to think I can somehow go back and fix things. What if I did this? What if I did that? Maybe he wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was better than being alone. Maybe maybe maybe maybe.

The line I’m struggling with the most is “You’re better off without him.”
Um. Uh.

Not really.
I would love to say “Yes! I am. I’m in the best shape I’ve been in in my entire life, thanks to yoga. I started volunteering with children and baby animals, made the front page of my town’s magazine because of said volunteering, and I’m more beautiful than ever!”

I’ve actually gained weight from being terribly, terribly depressed. I haven’t accomplished anything. I’m in school, sure, but I was in school while I was “seeing” him. In fact, I was probably doing better grade-wise than I am now.


I’m trying to be as coherent as possible, but it’s difficult. I slept off and on for 14 hours and I feel sleep-drunk. I fell asleep on the couch watching “Always Sunny in Philadelphia” around 1:30 am. I woke up to some infomercial with some beautiful model telling me how I too could have skin like hers. I vaguely remember mumbling under my breath about how much I hate my life before dragging my comforter across the length of the house and flopping onto my bed.

I woke up at 9:30 am with my heart racing. I figured I might as well get out of bed. Upon having this thought, immediately the rest of my brain started screaming “NO NO NO. STAY IN BED. NO.” Granted, no one really wants to get out of bed (maybe people do, I don’t know, that’s certainly not been my experience). I rolled over and drifted in and out of consciousness. I tried again to get out of bed at 11. Nope. More screaming in my brain. Even the thought of getting up for the day made my heart start pounding. I kid you not, I felt like I was having a heart attack. This typically means only one thing in my life: panic attacks. Yes, it was going to be one of those days. My mom came in to try and get me up a few times to no avail. Finally, at 3pm, she asked me what was “really going on.” I started crying uncontrollably. The thought of leaving my bed scares me. The thought of leaving the house scares me. The thought of looking someone in the eye scares me. Everything scares me today. My heartbeat is all over the place: UP and down and UP UP UP at the thought of getting out of bed.

I don’t want to be this way. I’m so tired of it. Seeing this guy on Thursday triggered a whole world of hurt that I’m all too familiar with. I’m not just in pain because of the end of a relationship, that pain has infiltrated every other neurosis I have and increased it tenfold.

There are a couple of low-key events tonight with my friends. I’m not going.
Yeah, yeah, yeah “screw that guy and go show him how confident you are.” No. That’s not how it works. Sometimes I fail to understand how people don’t get that. Like, if I’m in tears thinking of leaving the house, I’m hardly going to go to an event where there are people I know and where he’s going to be there. Probably with whatever girl he was making out with on Thursday. And if they’re not there, immediately my mind goes to “Great. They’re at his house together. Probably having sex.”

Do I want to sleep with him again? OH GOD NO. I would rather immerse myself in a tub full of fire ants. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a motherfucker and it certainly doesn’t mean that I can pretend that I’m going to set myself up for more hurt tonight.

I’m a little bit hungover today. I can’t believe I’m still stuck in this hole. A year ago I was miserable and depressed, being weighed down by an unhealthy relationship. Now I’m “free,” but I don’t feel free. I still think about him all the time. Not as much. Things were finally getting better, my thoughts of him were easing up. I wasn’t plagued by incessant, unnecessary dialogues about him in my brain.

And then last night happened.

He’s at the bar. It’s dark but he’s talking to a girl. Their body language hits me like a punch to the stomach. Is that…is that her hand on his thigh? It is. I go outside. I have a cigarette. I make smalltalk with a few acquaintances. I go back in. I dance to 90s music. I get frustrated. He nods at her and they move to a booth. I take a walk. I come back. They’re still in the booth. His hand is around her waist.

The rest doesn’t matter. I keep trying to remind myself that I will be  WILL be okay.

The bottom line is I will become a better person once I’ve past this.
This experience will make me grow as a person.
How I’m feeling is only temporary.
This too shall pass.
I am better without him in my life. (This appears to be the most difficult for me to comprehend).
He was hurtful and emotionally abusive.
I deserve better.

Being stuck on this is supremely irritating. I figured things would resolve by now, that somehow they would be different. I wish there was a way for closure to come more easily. I know the solution is time, but as I’ve said, it simply can’t move fast enough right now.