Rebuilding My Life
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Learning to live by myself all over again after a seven year relationship is difficult. For months, all I did was lay in bed, only leaving to go to the store and walk to pay rent. The realization that my ex only ever wanted from me was free room and board was painful. That only took me four years out of the seven years together to realize. I think that hurt more than all the money and belongings I lost. I’m sure there was love at some point, in the beginning, but I didn’t see the loss until my sanity was almost gone.
The relationship was destructive to me emotionally, financially and mentally. There were times I was actually suicidal, I had felt so taken advantage of. I felt I was being used for my Social Security checks and a free place to crash with free food and no strings attached. My belongings were given away, my self-esteem and everything I thought, felt, said or did was crushed and made fun of, put down and my personal choices were made to feel unworthy of being spoken out loud. I gave 150% of myself to this relationship, to the detriment of my own feelings and thoughts, my wants and needs, my own health and welfare. I propped up, I raised up, I gave of my emotions, my feelings, my money. All I was given back was token appreciation, if anything at all.
The sad part is, I still love this man, even though nothing I ever did was ‘good enough’. Not my love, not my self-esteem, not my belongings, not my unconditional positive reinforcement–no matter what did or didn’t happened.
What have I learned?
I’m not sure, it’s easy to say to never love again, to never put myself out there, to never open my heart to anyone, ever again, for any reason whatsoever. But I realize that wouldn’t be healthy. I do know I need to rebuild my home, my head and my heart, however long that will take. I’m making strides, rebuying furniture for my apartment, clothing, kitchenware and so on. This will take years but I have my eye on the long run. I’m also still trying to find a way to have belongings sent to me from a storage unit I have in the midwest. I’ve been looking for going on ten years now (something the ex said I should just sell), I’ve posted about this before, so I will not get into the issue again now.
I’ve cocooned myself the past six months, safely ensconced in my own little world and I’m poking my head out now and then, to test the waters. I’m not ready for much of anything, the emotional, financial and monetary damage was too thorough, over too long an extended period of time. I’ve been looking for a part-time writing job here and there, which will help pay off a credit card, amazon and other things. I’m still writing books but I’m taking my time, in between the depression and anxiety that comes along.
I’m almost 50 now, so much time has passed and I thought I’d have learned enough by now that I know I haven’t learned enough by now. I keep on living and I’ve always said “Adapt or Die”.