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Nov. 4th, 2014 10:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bitchy_merlinOkay so. The last post/essay/rant on here was slightly helpful so maybe now I'll start tackling something that feels bigger and is a bit more immediate.
I don't know if I should break up with her or not.
I think she's great. I think she's wonderful and I really, really like her. I like being in a relationship with her, even if it's long distance, cause I've never been in a relationship before and yeah, it's really nice to feel like I belong to someone, to feel like I've got a place at their side. I like having someone to pour my outbursts of affection onto and I like being spontaneous and romantic and tooootally cheesy.
But yo, realistically, I could do that with anyone.
It is very hard to date someone with depression, anxiety and an eating disorder. For me, this is basically like dating my past self, pre-recovery and guess what I'm learning? That self was an asshole. It is very hard to continue pouring out sunshine and happiness when the other person is constantly in a negative, depressive state. And I know it's not her fault cause I've been there and I know how it feels and I know I acted the exact same way - but I wasn't dating anyone, so when I vented it was on here or to a counsellor - not to my girlfriend. Somehow it's different.
It's exhausting. I don't mind the distance cause that's honestly not the worst part. The worst part is waking up each morning and thinking i hope she's alive, the worst part is falling asleep refreshing her blog page for the millionth time because what if she has a five minute opportunity to hurt herself or kill herself and she takes it? The worst part is how drained and empty and frustrated I feel when she tells me (again) that she wants to die (again) and when I try to help (again), my words are as useless as they always are. I know words in and of themselves don't change things. But I'd just been hoping that maybe... maybe things would be better by now. Maybe it wouldn't just be me being hopeful.
Hope is a heavy burden to bear.
I feel drained and lifeless when I have to constantly come up with new consolations for whatever thoughts she's facing. I feel like I'm running out of words. She says she loves me because I'm happy but lately I'm having a hard time remembering where I misplaced that bright part of me. I'm having trouble concentrating on basically anything else, and that scares me. I feel like I have no mental spoons left for work or friends or thinking about my future. I know this is not her fault. But my god. It's not anyone's fault but that doesn't make it any easier.
I've hidden this from my friends because I knew it wasn't a good idea at the outset. But I had to do it, I had to know. Like the child who knows the oven is hot but reaches out and gets burned by it anyway. This is me reaching my hand out...
And there are other things that contribute to my sense of exhaustion and frustration and defeat. I try to avoid complaining or venting about anything - truth told, I feel like I overfocus my attention on her and that may also contribute to the imbalance of emotional support going on here. It's not that I don't think she wants to be there for me - it's that I don't really think she knows how to be. Me, I learned all this because I have wonderful, caring friends who have been endlessly patient with me and because I spent years in and out of therapists' and doctors' offices. You pick up a few tricks about active listening and compassion. She hasn't done any of that, so I think it's hard for her to reciprocate emotionally the way I'd like. Which then leads me to feeling unappreciated and unvalued. Which then makes me feel worse. It's a vicious cycle. And realistically I should sit down and have an open, honest talk with her about it...
But here comes the crux of the emotional matter, which is that you don't dish on someone with an eating disorder. I can't even count how many times the Hotel Dieu girls came to group wrecked and crying because stress had set off their symptoms again. That's the last thing I want to do to her. I'm here to help, not to hurt. (And yet, when she doesn't answer my texts or answers them monosyllabically, hurting is all I can think of doing). So I feel guilty for even wanting emotional support and that helps things exactly zero percent.
I'm trying to be patient with both her and with myself, but it's hard. It really, really is. And the perceived social pressure I'm feeling to be in a good relationhip (because I'm a happy person, don'tchaknow, so obviously I'm in a good relatiohship) is absolutely destroying me because even though Chloe said she'd never ever judge me for being in a shitty or abusive relationship if I wasn't ready to leave yet - well, this isn't abusive, it's just in shitty circumstances and also, I brought this on myself. Like. I was the one who said yes. I consented. No one can say I went in blind or unwillingly. No one can say I didn't choose this; no one can say I didn't want it.
I do want it. I think that if we had a proper chance we could be marvellous. But I also don't know if we'll ever get that chance because she just messaged me saying she's not planning on going to her follow-up appointment with her GP, and. I'm. I'm really fucking disappointed for one, no point in even trying to hide that. I'm discouraged and angry, because I thought that maybe, maybe she'd see that the doctor is there to help and to get her access to treatment. I guess I was wrong.
I should not have to have the local police department in Edinburgh as a contact on my phone in case she tries something. That's not how I want to live. That is not what I want my life to be about. I know there's so much more out there and if I'm in a relationship, I have to do it for me.
(Which segues really nicely into the part where I'm predictably scared that - as with the job issue - no one else would want me. Realistically? Probably not true. Staring that issue in the face? It feels pretty true right now. Especially if I'm in Kingston until 2016; where the heck is the queer scene here? Pretty much nonexistent from what little I can tell.)
And all of this would be maybe more straightforward if December weren't a thing, if I hadn't invested a significant chunk of my life into y'know, being with her for at least a week. Another reason why I can't break up with her, at least not yet: who'd host me in Edinburgh? And despite the theme of regret in this post, I am excited to see her. Who knows? Maybe things will change for the better once we're together for longer than a weekend. Right now, I'm just really tired of hoping cause it feels like all I'm getting is let downs.
I don't know if I should break up with her or not.
I think she's great. I think she's wonderful and I really, really like her. I like being in a relationship with her, even if it's long distance, cause I've never been in a relationship before and yeah, it's really nice to feel like I belong to someone, to feel like I've got a place at their side. I like having someone to pour my outbursts of affection onto and I like being spontaneous and romantic and tooootally cheesy.
But yo, realistically, I could do that with anyone.
It is very hard to date someone with depression, anxiety and an eating disorder. For me, this is basically like dating my past self, pre-recovery and guess what I'm learning? That self was an asshole. It is very hard to continue pouring out sunshine and happiness when the other person is constantly in a negative, depressive state. And I know it's not her fault cause I've been there and I know how it feels and I know I acted the exact same way - but I wasn't dating anyone, so when I vented it was on here or to a counsellor - not to my girlfriend. Somehow it's different.
It's exhausting. I don't mind the distance cause that's honestly not the worst part. The worst part is waking up each morning and thinking i hope she's alive, the worst part is falling asleep refreshing her blog page for the millionth time because what if she has a five minute opportunity to hurt herself or kill herself and she takes it? The worst part is how drained and empty and frustrated I feel when she tells me (again) that she wants to die (again) and when I try to help (again), my words are as useless as they always are. I know words in and of themselves don't change things. But I'd just been hoping that maybe... maybe things would be better by now. Maybe it wouldn't just be me being hopeful.
Hope is a heavy burden to bear.
I feel drained and lifeless when I have to constantly come up with new consolations for whatever thoughts she's facing. I feel like I'm running out of words. She says she loves me because I'm happy but lately I'm having a hard time remembering where I misplaced that bright part of me. I'm having trouble concentrating on basically anything else, and that scares me. I feel like I have no mental spoons left for work or friends or thinking about my future. I know this is not her fault. But my god. It's not anyone's fault but that doesn't make it any easier.
I've hidden this from my friends because I knew it wasn't a good idea at the outset. But I had to do it, I had to know. Like the child who knows the oven is hot but reaches out and gets burned by it anyway. This is me reaching my hand out...
And there are other things that contribute to my sense of exhaustion and frustration and defeat. I try to avoid complaining or venting about anything - truth told, I feel like I overfocus my attention on her and that may also contribute to the imbalance of emotional support going on here. It's not that I don't think she wants to be there for me - it's that I don't really think she knows how to be. Me, I learned all this because I have wonderful, caring friends who have been endlessly patient with me and because I spent years in and out of therapists' and doctors' offices. You pick up a few tricks about active listening and compassion. She hasn't done any of that, so I think it's hard for her to reciprocate emotionally the way I'd like. Which then leads me to feeling unappreciated and unvalued. Which then makes me feel worse. It's a vicious cycle. And realistically I should sit down and have an open, honest talk with her about it...
But here comes the crux of the emotional matter, which is that you don't dish on someone with an eating disorder. I can't even count how many times the Hotel Dieu girls came to group wrecked and crying because stress had set off their symptoms again. That's the last thing I want to do to her. I'm here to help, not to hurt. (And yet, when she doesn't answer my texts or answers them monosyllabically, hurting is all I can think of doing). So I feel guilty for even wanting emotional support and that helps things exactly zero percent.
I'm trying to be patient with both her and with myself, but it's hard. It really, really is. And the perceived social pressure I'm feeling to be in a good relationhip (because I'm a happy person, don'tchaknow, so obviously I'm in a good relatiohship) is absolutely destroying me because even though Chloe said she'd never ever judge me for being in a shitty or abusive relationship if I wasn't ready to leave yet - well, this isn't abusive, it's just in shitty circumstances and also, I brought this on myself. Like. I was the one who said yes. I consented. No one can say I went in blind or unwillingly. No one can say I didn't choose this; no one can say I didn't want it.
I do want it. I think that if we had a proper chance we could be marvellous. But I also don't know if we'll ever get that chance because she just messaged me saying she's not planning on going to her follow-up appointment with her GP, and. I'm. I'm really fucking disappointed for one, no point in even trying to hide that. I'm discouraged and angry, because I thought that maybe, maybe she'd see that the doctor is there to help and to get her access to treatment. I guess I was wrong.
I should not have to have the local police department in Edinburgh as a contact on my phone in case she tries something. That's not how I want to live. That is not what I want my life to be about. I know there's so much more out there and if I'm in a relationship, I have to do it for me.
(Which segues really nicely into the part where I'm predictably scared that - as with the job issue - no one else would want me. Realistically? Probably not true. Staring that issue in the face? It feels pretty true right now. Especially if I'm in Kingston until 2016; where the heck is the queer scene here? Pretty much nonexistent from what little I can tell.)
And all of this would be maybe more straightforward if December weren't a thing, if I hadn't invested a significant chunk of my life into y'know, being with her for at least a week. Another reason why I can't break up with her, at least not yet: who'd host me in Edinburgh? And despite the theme of regret in this post, I am excited to see her. Who knows? Maybe things will change for the better once we're together for longer than a weekend. Right now, I'm just really tired of hoping cause it feels like all I'm getting is let downs.
