I hadn’t eaten all day as I woke up late for my hair appointment and don’t like going to cafes on my own in Albury, as its just not the done thing in a country town. Besides, since my Dad told me that I need to lose 5 kilos I haven’t really felt like eating much (hello eating disorder!).
Surprisingly, the lightheadedness seemed to bring me some kind of emotional clarity as I thought about how my life has been dominated by my relationships over the past three to four years. If someone asked me what the major influence in my life has been throughout and beyond uni, it would undoubtedly be the relationships that I’ve had. Both relationships went for one and a half years, and both ended in me not wanting to talk to that person ever again, and being tormented by the fact that they were out there meeting new girls and basically getting on with their lives without me (I mean, how could they!?).
I felt like (and still do to some degree) that they had lied to me when they said they wanted to be with me forever, and I was drawn into believing that if someone said that to me, then they surely must have meant it, and that made it real. I also felt like because I loved them, that I should put all of my heart into them and at times continue to resuscitate the relationship, even when it was clear that it had no pulse and was turning blue, and that we would both be better off if the organs were donated to someone else as they clearly weren’t working for us.
Then I became angry at myself for not putting all that time and effort and CPR into my own life. What have I been thinking!? I see friends do it all the time- basically hopping into one relationship straight into another one. I have friends who do this kind of thing serially. Almost pathologically. Friends who in the space of 5 years of knowing them, have moved on from one person to the next, not stopping to breathe, or to experience life without someone (whom they usually end up hating anyway) faithfully (or sometimes unfaithfully) by their side.
I went to visit an ex the other day; one of the ones who broke my heart and who had ‘lied’ to me when he said he wanted to be with me forever. Looking around his unit, at his posters of naked girls, his 10 or so empty bottles of vodka and bundy rum, dirty condoms in the bin, handcuffs by the bed, I realized that besides having not much in common with me then or now- he’s just a little boy. We were just ‘playing’ at being boyfriend and girlfriend. We didn’t know, and probably still don’t know the first thing about being in love. Sure, we had ‘real’ feelings for each other, but we didn’t know what to do with them.
We had lovely times together, but then we had horrible times together. I thought that I would die when it ended. I didn’t eat, I didn’t go to uni, and in the end, and my doctor prescribed me medication in an attempt to soothe my little broken heart.
When my little broken heart had mended to some extent, I did fabulously at uni, made some fantastic new friends, and reconnected with old ones, and got an internship interstate at parliament house.
Then I met another little boy. I thought he was fabulous, I thought his love would lift me up to new heights and I got carried away. The next year and a half was spent trying to please him, hardly seeing friends, basing every decision I made on his needs.
Now I’m finally off the rollercoaster and much better off for it, although I still feel a little queasy.
Friends and family have said that they felt like they saw me disappear throughout the time I was in the relationship (an emotionally and mildly physically abusive relationship) and I’m not going to let myself make the same mistake again. I’m young enough to still have endless possibilities in terms of what I want to achieve in my life, and this time I’ve got to chase them without getting sidetracked…
So my goal is to spend at least a year and a half; as long as I spent on each ill fated relationship; being selfish. But most of all, being me.