Thread: Some days, I don't know myself

For those that seem to think they know me, this is for you. I've made bad decisions. I tried so desperately to make the best of decisions, for myself and those around me. An old love got back in my life, telling me I was his only chance for happiness, and I listened. I let myself get pulled in, despite being happy in a current relationship, and even went to spend time with this old love. And that's where things went awry. In his mind yes apparently means yes for life. So when he started to tug off my pants, my telling him no, behave, please Phil, come on stop it, and even as my no's became more forceful, it didn't mean a thing to him, because I had wanted it so badly when we dated. So he got his way, and then later told me that I was a disgusting, cheating whore and that no one would want me, so I had better stick with him. That he wouldn't hold it against me. I listened. So I kept up two lives, and it was miserable. I did my best to keep the boyfriend happy, though he had trust issues, and I'm sure he knew all along that I was lying to him, and I'd humor the ex to avoid the guilt trips. I could feel every bit of Cassandra that I had ever been proud of slip away with each lie. But I kept up the lies for....half a year? And then came some not so pleasant news. I was pregnant. Nineteen at the time, in two miserable relationships, and pregnant, with my body already rejecting. So rather than wait for the horror of a miscarriage, I made a difficult decision just for me. It was the most painful thing I have ever gone through, and I mourn what could have been every day. I feel I made the right choice given my circumstances. But that doesn't mean that that decision was made without regret and that it hasn't left lasting damage. I fell apart at that point. I pulled away from everyone, and both boys reacted negatively. Phil became more abusive towards me. And Brett decided to start sleeping around with some of his past girls. When Brett found out about everything, he exploded in anger, even hit me just to make his point. So I went home to find Phil waiting for me. He was so convinced that now that I was single again and that my mother had given up on controlling me, he could have me back without any trouble. And when I resisted that, he lashed out. Made some cruel jokes and then proceeded to ignore me and go out on a date with some girl, just to make me jealous. I had had enough. I told Phil to go fuck himself and stormed out in a fury. I had never felt so...proud of myself. I haven't looked back. I miss him, I still love him. But I recognize how bad for me he is, and I know to say no. Like a kitten with antifreeze. Sure, it smells sugary, but it's made me sick before, so maybe I should avoid that shit, right? I had a dramatic change in egos. I switched over to another girl, and I started living life a bit. Brett came around, we talked everything out, every bit of good and bad and we decided we would try again. I forgave him all his trespasses. He was supposed to forgive mine. That didn't happen. Four months of being accused every day of cheating. Four months of doing my best to prove that I wasn't that girl. And it was all wasted. We fell apart as the cold weather hit. I had to be strong for him, since he needed so much reassurance, but I'm a seasonal depressive, and as soon as it got cold, I had a harder time being there for him. I just fell apart. I tried to make him understand, and he reacted so negatively. So we broke up. I was upset, but trying not to let it affect me in such a bad way. To recognize it as good. An old interest of mine was around, I started living off of impulse. Not always the best of decisions, hardly a bad one at times though. Then I find out that Brett, the man I had seriously contemplated marriage with had gone too far in his self destructive nature. He spent Thanksgiving, plus a few days in a mental hospital. And later decided to sell all of his belongings to hop in his beat up, junky old car and drive away with no destination. I feel responsible for his spiral. Even if I was miserable, if I had stuck it out, he wouldn't be pulling that stunt. If I had worked harder, I could have made it work somehow. I have a hard time thinking about myself, but on the rare occasion I do, I always feel so guilty about it. I blamed myself. I pulled away from everyone, I barely slept, I barely ate. And eventually, I contacted him. We kissed and made up, I encouraged him to go on the trip because it meant a lot to him, and it was an opportunity. I wished him well. He came back after three months of being gone, ready to put forth effort. Telling me that the reason he came back was for me, and that he would work hard, change, and be the man I needed him to be. I was changing too, for the better. I learned to speak up for myself, to demand what I wanted and to stop settling so much. Another three months later, his effort has supposedly been spent. He still hasn't found a job, and in his copious amount of free time, he tears me apart. Every conversation I have is a secret he must be a part of. Every friend I attempt to make at work is a possible secret lover. I am steadily under a microscope. I will be twenty one this october, I have never been to a party. I haven't really gone out with a big group of friends of my own. I haven't done so much, I'm not allowed to live. Even going out to the movies, or the club with a female friend is an entire ordeal. I'm tired. I want to live my life. I want to have fun. I don't care what you think about me. Call me a cheating whore, I'll be offended because deep down, I agree. But that doesn't mean you're right. That doesn't mean you have any business judging me. And now anyone that cares to know, knows some of my dirtiest secrets. Because someone I thought was a friend couldn't be trusted to keep them in the first place. Now, it's public knowledge. Thanks for your time, thanks for your concerns, thanks for your betrayal. Have a wonderful day.