drowned world/substitute for love
the weekend before last was crazy. really hectic. the 25th june.
i wrote the following the monday after it happened:
we broke up on friday night. we got back together on saturday.
friday night reminded me how not-ok i am. how not-ok i will always be. how not-ok i can be.
i thought i had shaken this depression thing. i thought i was clear of it. im not ok. im just more aware of it. i can diagnose myself. and with that knowledge comes greater power and more weakness.
it means when im really feeling shit. when im really thinking about ending it all. im less likely to ask for help. im less likely to get something to sort it out. simply because i dont want to go on the meds. i dont want another round of counselling. i dont want to lose what little i have left.
thursday night i didnt sleep. i got into bed at 5 o’clock in the morning. only for ST to get out at 7. i got about 3 hours of sleep before i got a phonecall from my mum at about 1pm friday. things had gone from bad to worse. another fight. in the morning. just like the good ol’ days.
i got a text from my sister. something along the lines of “well done on passing your exams, hope you had a good time in the US”. i deleted it.
but i kept all this quiet. i tried to cope with it like a normal person. i went about what i always do. i just moved on.
friday night i couldnt sleep. at all. ST stayed over. he fell asleep. but this shit kept buzzing around my head. what if mum is not-ok? when can i go home and see her? when is my dad going to call me and tell me off for no reason? why is my sister texting me?
snap back to realtime. now. i pushed his buttons that night. maybe on purpose? maybe subconciously. i dont really know for sure.
that friday. that friday the 13th that wasnt the 13th. that black friday.
after he left. after i followed him down the road and lost him. after i got back to the flat and punched my chest because it was the last place he kissed me. after i punched my left thigh because it was all i could do to feel some pain where i craved it. after i put his green jumper on because it still smelt like him. after i wept because it was the closest i could get to feeling him around me again. after all that, i took my keys and drove to MN’s house.
she calmed me down and gave me some words of wisdom.
i slept 5 hours and called him repeatedly.
he told me it was over in 3 text messages. so i drove to his to drop off his stuff.
he opened the door and a smile broke on his face when he saw me. he took my hand and walked me to his room. he sat around me awkwardly while i gave his niece the presents i got from the US for her.
it took about 2 days to talk it out. to make him realise how much he damaged me.
2 weeks later i still feel uneasy. like somethings going to stop us from being happy.
ive literally spent every day with him. i stayed over at his. we have seen each other every day. and we’ve fought minimally. only when he felt like acting like a jack-ass. but i put him in his place.
and its odd. every time we fight i have the god-awful fear hes ready to drop me. and every time we fight it escalates quicker. and every time we fight i do less to keep us together.
that black friday night…he expected me to have driven to his and sat and waited for him to come home. i never did. and i doubt i ever will any more.
when im feeling strong and stable i tell myself that if he pulls his bullshit i will tell him to go fuck himself and wait for him to respond however the fuck he wants.
but when im there. when im sad. when i feel like the world’s dissolving beneath my feet and im clinging to whatever i can…i need him. i weep. and i see my life unfolding before my eyes, and i realise that i cant bear to live it without him. i realise i know that i can carry on. go to uni. do whatever i have to do. but it seems worthless without him to share it with. i know i will probably end up marrying whoever my parents decide is good enough for me. but i will never have the happiness i have with him.
that friday morning that my mum had a fight and my sister texted me. 2 weeks later i learn my sister hit my mum. she hit her on the back for crying. she hit her on the back because her heart was broken. she screamed at my mother that she was a weak pathetic person who had taught her all the wrong lessons in life and blamed my mum for her not having found a husband.
i have the same mum. and hey, guess what, im in a 7 month relationship…maybe its not the upbringing and IS the child?
i wonder how many people support her on hitting her own mother? i wonder how many people she told about the argument? i wonder how many of them even know she did that?
a 29 year old qualified ob/gyn doctor. she brings new life into the world every day. and yet she hits her own mother.
ladies: if you’re reading this, before you have your baby delivered, ask your doctor what her relationship is with her family. would you want the doctor responsible for the start of your family to be someone so destructive of their own?
i know i wouldnt.
i dont want this family any more. none of them care for anyone but themselves. there is no unity. they cant be called family when they dont define family.
its politics. its a fight for power. its a war to prove who the biggest winner is.
and its funny watching who all the players are. my dad the main warrior. my brother gives him his alliance in the hopes of gaining something for himself. lulled into a false sense of security. my sister waits on the side. she stirs and plays the countries off each other. gaining bits and pieces for herself. my brother in his own war with his wife. and my mother the helpless confused country they all use and want. stripping her of everything she has and stands for.
she has no army of her own. she has nothing to give them. and yet they continue to push her around.
and where am i? just some paradise that can only offer refuse and comfort to my mum. some little insignificant island trying to be bigger than she can. i have no real power. i can do nothing.
i just pick up the pieces as best i can in the end.