My life feels like a series of mistakes. Part of my self esteem issues definitely come from that.
It seems like I haven’t been a person in a long time.
My ex-husband had. OK. Has. A drug problem. Because even when you’re medicated correctly for it, it’s always there. It controls everything eventually. Even things like “Am I going to buy food today” were iffy.
I tried hard to be understanding. Because I grew up seeing people live with it. And I knew he had a lot of emotional issues. But I cared.
I tried. I still try. I am not in a relationship with him. But I still feel responsible for taking care of him. In his bad moments he has blamed me for how bad it got. And even when fighting him about it I took the blame into my soul. Saying “It’s not my fault,” but feeling like I deserved living the half life with him.
I have a friend. We dated back when I was still a kid. Below 21. I’m a different person now. So is he. We were talking for like a minute. Do you want to know the thing I enjoyed best about it?
We didn’t have feelings for each other. He likes me all right. But I was mostly convenient for the moment.
But that’s okay. Because I’m not in love with him. I won’t be in love with him. I won’t be hurt.
I’d kind of like to have that. Someone to hang out with, but not hurt over. If he messages, cool. If he doesn’t, cool. I want to have what other people have.
And no, no sexual talk or shit. No typical bpd crazy stupid decisions. Though he did try. And I’d answer certain questions honestly because I’m trying to be honest about stuff and when he pushed it I’d laughingly and kind of gloss over it. Because I didn’t want… Idk. I mean, I really miss sex. But I just didn’t want to. Not yet anyway. Not him.
But not John. So that’s a good step in the right direction.
I want to be a person again. I’m not a drug addict. I don’t want to live like one.
I just want to have someone to stave off the loneliness with.
I’m not healed. I mean, I do. I still miss him. Every moment. Every moment it aches. But I have to face that he’s gone. The boy I loved wasn’t real. And that’s it. I am settled in the facts. I will always miss him. But everything about us is gone. I just want to find something similar. I miss connection.
I don’t know if I like the medicine they started me on. I’ve had at least one panic attack a day. My blood pressure is fluctuating noticeably. The numbness is gone.
I want to be other people. I want what other people do. I just want to live a whole life.
How can I get that?