I’m Doing Really Well

4 Oct

I’m doing really well. Surprisingly so. In fact, the last three days have seen me mellow into a mild state of acceptance, positivity and even excitement.

I have enjoyed several wonderful experiences since Friday morning, in spite of the sorrow I feel for The Forgiven One’s health and the dissolving of our friendship. In truth, I am offended by his statement, “The problem is this: I love you”, as if feeling affection for one as worthless as myself is some kind of scourge.

Love is supposed to be a joyous, elevating experience – all love, from romantic to maternal. Yet, I have been made to feel as if I am somehow unworthy of a normal, positive and healthy emotion. Screw that. Seriously. Why should I feel apologetic or bad for another person feeling love towards me? Why should it be a problem for anyone? Why can’t it be something to enjoy and celebrate?

I am upset by The Forgiven One’s statement yet I am not angry, nor holding a grudge. I choose, instead, to cherish the love I feel towards him and wish him well for the future.

I acknowledge that his approach towards me over the years has damaged my self-esteem and much work is needed to craft my own future into a positive experience. For almost a decade, I have endured The Forgiven One’s ambiguous comments, statements and proclamations – all structured to erode my self-worth.

What should have been positive observations about both our relationship and myself were all twisted into negative put-downs to control and subjugate my being. It’s difficult to conclude how aware he was of his own behaviour; I don’t believe he was oblivious yet I am not convinced that he intended to cause longterm harm.

It’s sad how things have turned out; neither of us is happy with our history and I am sorry that we couldn’t find middle ground upon which to build a haven of peace for us to enjoy together, as friends, in the present and in the future.

For the time being, I believe that it is better for my mental health to have time away from The Forgiven One and to make the most of his wish to never speak again. I love him and I miss him but I cannot accept that it’s appropriate, nor particularly healthy, to have to listen to statements about myself which imply that I am either worthless or unworthy of positivity. I hate that I have been made to feel guilty for someone loving my person, as if that’s such a terrible state for my friends to suffer and endure.

I was willing to let bygones be bygones, after all the heinous things he did to me; happy to settle into a social and normal friendship, without asking for anything more than the same respect he has always bestowed so freely upon others. I envisaged a phone call every now and again, an occasional dinner meeting, the odd trip to the movies or drinking in a pub, a text exchange of platonic banter… regular social interaction. Instead, I ended up being insulted and humiliated. It’s all so needless… and out of my control. He is still pulling the strings, as he always was – the architect and master of our mutual Hell.

I hope with all my heart that The Forgiven One finds happiness. I also hope he learns to appreciate his loved ones; being mistreated by one who claims to love you really sucks. Massively. I am so tired of feeling betrayed. All I ever wanted was to be loved and valued as much as the other people in his life. Instead, I feel lower than ever: I occupy no position in his life, nor he in mine. It’s sad. Yet, I feel it is necessary. He doesn’t value me so he can never truly love me as a person, no matter what he says.

I love him and wish him well, but I need to deal with the ramifications of his actions: my low self-esteem has taken another battering and I need to focus on rebuilding my confidence. I have already begun, through positive interaction with those who seemingly care for and value my existence. I have immersed myself in love, despite stress and ongoing ill health. I have found the good in each day and enjoyed the affections of the people who show me love.

I still mourn the fact that I couldn’t wish The Forgiven One a Happy Birthday and I expect that sorrow will frequently occur as other milestones approach and pass: Christmas, New Year, Easter… I will silently wish him good tidings, blessings and love on each and every one of those occasions and I will continue to pray that he finds love, happiness and good health. I have moved on from hatred; I did that a long time ago. There is nothing to be gained by wishing him harm. I am better than that.

Happy Birthday to You

3 Oct

Happy 37th Birthday to The Forgiven One. I hope he is blessed with a wonderful, positive day.

We no longer speak to one another yet I truly wish him well. My friendship was always – and still remains – genuine. There is no length of silence nor distance that will ever change that truth. I pray that his health is improving and he feels loved, valued and special beyond measure on this important day. I hope he finds enough peace of mind and joy to wholeheartedly celebrate his birth, his life, his existence… his birthday.

Happy Birthday to you, my old love. I hope it’s the best birthday ever and you are surrounded by family, friends, your girlfriend and all those you hold dear. Be blessed. Be happy. Be healthy.



3 Oct


The Day After Is The Worst

1 Oct

The day after is the worst… that’s what they say and it seems to be true.

The feelings of anger and grief which have simmered since yesterday’s events with The Forgiven One are presently contained yet I feel them pushing against the surface barriers of my eyelids. I feel them pushing against the wall of my lower lip. I even feel them punching against my chest, threatening to explode through my rib cage with the exhalation of my final breath.

It’s difficult to fully articulate. I had a panic attack in the middle of the night and a second episode nearly derailed my train commute to work. The environment awaiting my arrival didn’t help; work is hell at the moment. I am not in the right company. I don’t belong there. I am worthless in comparison to my colleagues and I feel inadequate.

I don’t belong anywhere in this world…I am too expendable. The latest drama with The Forgiven One has left me drained and grief-stricken; I can’t face the days ahead. I am not saying that I’m going to kill myself. I’m merely stating that I do not wish to, nor deserve, to live.

I want the misery to end. I just want to feel happy but it’s tough to feel joy when you feel bereft and meaningless.

Never Again. Not ever.

30 Sep

I have finally learned. At long last. It was a painful lesson but at least I can honestly say: “Never again. Not ever”.

I was humiliated yesterday and that was the least of my concerns. I was too busy blindly panicking that the man responsible, The Forgiven One, was going to kill himself. You cannot imagine how deeply his death would wound my heart and soul. No matter how many times he has hurt and humiliated me, I do love him. He is my family. We shared years of our lives together, through which I was emotionally tortured, mistreated, humiliated and betrayed. I love him anyway.

He has issues. I think his behaviour towards me has made that abundantly clear, however his mental health issues run as deep as my own. He is trapped in the same dark place in which I was caged following his cruelty three years ago. I only began to escape my confines 12 months ago and even now I still find myself wandering back down the same murky alleyways of grief and worthlessness. He and I are the opposite sides of the same coin; I am the victim who has suffered for his sins and he is the perpetrator forced to live with his actions.

I wish we shared a happier history but no-one can re-write the past. I tried, instead, to pave a better future, striving for peace and friendship. I thought we had reached that Nirvana or, at least, we were well on our way. I was so wrong. Our contact triggered some kind of emotional breakdown from which The Forgiven One cannot seem to rise. He has sought professional help and keeps saying that he wants to die. He shared this with me a few weeks ago and I have been feeling terrified ever since.

I wish I could understand why he feels so low – he told me that it’s due to a combination of factors, which he proceeded to list, yet he was suddenly adamant that we should not have contact as he wanted time and space. Naturally, upon hearing this request, I fretted that the problem wasn’t a combination of things; the problem was me.

I was distraught to hear him confess that he hadn’t discussed his suicidal thoughts with his longterm girlfriend nor his male flatmate – the two people closest to him in his life. He also refused to confide in his family and had chosen not to tell his circle of best friends. They all know he is depressed but they have no idea how low he is and would be shocked to learn that he feels suicidal. Yet, he cried to me, blurting out his dark thoughts and his yearning for death.

Through tears and sobs, screams and shouting, he unburdened himself. I fell to pieces with fear and worry, grief and heartache. I cannot bear the thought of anyone I love coming to any harm. It would simply kill me. He knows and understands that his death would destroy my being.

We had a raw and emotional exchange and he knew his words would plunge me into a deep melancholy. I was glad. I would rather know his pain and take it on as my own – anything to help and save him…

I successfully persuaded him to go to his girlfriend, to her home on a Mediterranean island. I spent much of his absence navigating panic attacks, brought on by the thought of his suicide. I was terrified that he would do something stupid. I was yet more concerned when he returned, still depressed and still adamant that he didn’t ever want to share the extent of his depression with his girlfriend.

Again, I wondered if I was the real problem and if that was why he wouldn’t speak to his partner. Perhaps she wasn’t keen on him being in contact with an ex, or maybe she would be jealous or hurt from his decision to confide in myself before her?

All I wanted, all I still want, is for him to be okay. I hate that he is distressed and suffering. I really do. Thus, when we talked 10 days ago, I asked him if he would prefer for us to no longer have contact. He said he “wasn’t even thinking like that and why do you assume everything is about you?”

He made a fair point… only then he made the following statement within the same conversation:

“I think the problem is this: I love you. I really do. I always did and I always will and that’s what I think is the problem. We just click. You and me, we just click. If anything ever happened to you, I would be devastated. Really devastated. And I think you feel the same way about me.”

I was sobbing my heart out as he spoke those words, feeling love, confusion, anger and grief all in the same moment, engulfed by an overwhelming emotional avalanche.

After digesting his statement for a few days, I sent him a message explaining that I love him and would like us to try again. I’ll admit that my heart doesn’t love The Forgiven One as intensely as before… I have met another man for which I feel a deep, beautiful love. However, The Forgiven One is unfinished business… the one that got away; the love that broke my heart. I felt owed it to both of us to see where our love could take us.

Yesterday, I received my response: he is not in love with me, only loves me as a person, needs space, wants to die, doesn’t want to see or speak to anyone and thinks we should go our separate ways and never speak again.

That’s all perfectly fine apart from two things: he still wants to die, which is terrifying, and he expects me to believe that I am not the problem after telling me that the problem is that he loves me! I feel humilated, yet again, and manipulated, yet again. Never again will I be so stupid. Not ever.

But being ridiculed again is the least of my worries. In all honesty, all I care about is this: him. His health. I am so scared that he will do something stupid. I am terrified that he is going to commit suicide and I have not done enough to save him. What can I do? I don’t understand what he needs.

He says he wants space and I am obliging because I don’t want to push him over the edge. Also, I can’t live like this anymore: speaking to him makes me feel suicidal and I start feeling fear, grief and worthlessness. He makes me want to die when he speaks of being depressed and killing himself. I find myself overwhelmed by sorrow and plunged back into the awful darkness of our past, surrounded by the shadows I have worked so hard to evade.

It’s all a mess.

Please God, let The Forgiven One find inner peace and happiness. Let him be happy with his girlfriend and to enjoy all he has. He is so lucky, I wish he could see it instead if being depressed. I know how that feels and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even the man who continues to hurt me with his words and actions. I love him God, please protect him. I beg you. Keep him safe.

I Prayed for Help…

28 Sep

I prayed for help and it came. My prayers were answered upon this day; to be forever etched in my memory. I have called upon God many times and he has always come to my aid. Often times, I couldn’t, or rather I wouldn’t, accept his kindness, choosing to wallow instead in the mire of my own making.

I am so blessed… so overwhelmingly lucky to have someone so powerful on my side. Thank you, God. For everything… the miracles, the love and the opportunity to discover how worthy I am in your eyes. What an amazing, miraculous day. Thank you, Lord, my father. You are my only King.


15 Sep

Last night, someone dropped a bombshell that annihilated and destroyed the fragile resolve I had been clinging onto like a life raft. I sobbed all night, drowning in my own tears, and I am still weeping, overcome with a grief I have not experienced since The Forgiven One sank his knife into my back, twisted it repeatedly and left me to die. It’s that bad. It may even turn out to be worse.

My anguish is not only raw, it is unstoppable. I am so grief-stricken, I want to crawl away from civilisation and hide beyond the reach of human contact. It hurts to feel. It hurts to carry on sobbing, to bear the weight of horror and terror to a measure I know I am not designed to survive.

Life is all about loss. That is the only lesson I was put here to learn. There is no happy ending, hope nor future. It’s all just loss. It’s all there ever can be. I cannot imagine how I will ever know the comfort of peace of mind, or the safety of contentment and joy. I am afraid. And so desperately lonely. I can’t survive this on my own. I know I will buckle and fold, crushed into nothing, as I have always been.


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