to love for the hope of it all

I’d like to start by saying so far so good! I’ve been able to keep food down since entering the new year, and even cooked something for dinner. Every time I consider myself to be making progress, I’m never really sure. My morning (well, started at 11:30) walk was extremely hopeful and felt quite nice until I called my mum to catch up – not being able to have a normal conversation with her without the divorce or how bad my brother is doing is really adding up, and just frustrating and hurtful. I know how selfish that is of me to say, but it doesn’t make it less true. There are times I do seriously consider moving back to Montreal, if only for a few months or up to a year to just alleviate stress on everyone there and somehow ‘fix’ things in my family, as well as get a mental reset. I think I’m unfortunately still far too convinced in my ability to remedy things with people, even when it’s not my job to. It just feels like unless I’m actively doing something, I’m just being selfish and not caring about other people, even if it is just because I’m focusing on my own life. I don’t know what to think about everything going on with family anymore, and I’m far too tired to do so right now.

In a very similar vein, I’m frankly so tired of my own brain overthinking things with ‘abs’ that I think it’s just started to shut down. There are just so many different thoughts going through my head about it, including both insanely hopeful ones, and the most depressing ones – I have absolutely no clue what to expect when we see each other next, which, upon current reflection, just rings alarm bells in my head and instant panic. I have a feeling I’m going to be forced to make decisions and choices that I do not want to make, and stand by them even if I don’t want to. I beg the universe or whatever higher force or being to somehow bring this back into my favour and what I want, even if it’s not what I need. I’m not even sure about that actually. I know that I love him, but any realistic thoughts I have about a relationship are just negative at this point; he’s going to come back sure about not wanting to be with me, probably either sure he wants to be with her, or just more unsure about things in general. I should not keep pursuing it. 

None of this stops me from actually wanting and missing him. He no longer takes up every single thought I have, and it seems like sleeping has come much easier recently, but tonight feels like it will be difficult. Tonight is one of those nights where I wish I was climbing into bed with him, nice and soft and warm, having a lil giggly conversation before bed and cuddling for warmth – I suppose that’s not anything that’s ever happened with him though, not really. I miss the touches between us and the rare affection from when he did actually like me, more than I know to describe; it was always the part that I considered the biggest adjustment and change for him since he’s not used to physical affection, and I can’t help but tear up at the knowledge that there literally was a time he did want to be with me, and that we’re no longer in it. I don’t know if I’ll ever truly stop mourning what could have been, which is part of why I’m struggling so much to let go of it. It could be so good, it could be everything; but it probably won’t be, as much as I want it to be. I can’t will him into feeling something for me again, a reality that pains me every single time I must confront it. I’m positive I’ve ridiculed myself to everyone we know at this point with the fact that I remain hopeful somehow that things will change, knowing that they won’t. I think it feels like even writing or saying those thoughts, acknowledging them, lessens the probability of them happening somehow; some odd superstition I can’t rid myself of. 

Lately I seem to notice even more subtle signs of anxiety-caused OCD-like thinking that plague my daily routine and thoughts. The more I think I’m healing and discovering myself, the more I am faced with hidden, slightly worrying realisations about myself that I must face somehow, completely alone as I am terrified of sharing them with people and allowing them to realise what’s truly going on in my brain. My grandmother told me I was a very personal and closed off person yesterday, which kinda shook me to my core – I thought I had been quite open about my thoughts and feelings with her over my time in Montreal, but it made me realise that maybe that hadn’t quite been the case. Although somewhat inherently different with friends, I do have immense difficulty actually talking about my fears and worries on anything but a very superficial level, scared about how it would affect the person in front of me. I no longer feel I can talk to anybody in my family in a genuine, earnest way, and I’m not sure I have ever felt that way – even as a teenager I used to believe that sharing any of my opinions or thoughts to my family would ruin whatever love they did hold for me as a family member and they would realise just how fucked up I was (or felt I was, turns out I was just 14 and struggling rather than an inherently evil person). Most of my family have unbelievably reactive emotions, the way that I do, which make it more difficult to open up as you must then also comfort them rather than just purely receive it. I think the one conversation I had about it with ‘lc’, my high school boyfriend, still plagues me almost 10 years later – my reactions make it difficult for people to want to confront me or be honest about things that will hurt me. It’s a sentiment that ‘mc’ has echoed ‘abs’ must somewhat apply to me during the time we’ve known each other, trying to convince me that he has or even does go along with things just for my sake and to avoid a reaction from me. As much as I understand the thought behind it, I just hate it. I don’t always hate how emotional I am, I try to see it as something positive that I don’t feel complete without (did that make sense?). Trying to numb my thoughts or feelings has only ever done me bad; I still hate how unapproachable it makes me sometimes, and how it affects others. 

As far as everyone is concerned, probably himself included, ‘abs’ has been honest and open with me about how he feels at this point, and it’s just time for me to let it go and get on with my life. I still find that difficult to believe for some reason. I just honestly do not believe that there isn’t anything still between us. In theory, with my lack of self esteem and terrible perception of myself, actually accepting this shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. I’m not sure that I’m particularly great, so why would he? Why would he be able to see past everything wrong with me when nobody is able to? Remnants of ‘The Archer’ play in my heart reminding me that the reason I hope he is able to, and desperately want him to, is because it’s what I want most in the world. Someone who sees the worst in me and still wants me. Following this train of thought has just made me sad honestly, as I am terrified that whatever chances I’ve had at that in the past were destroyed by terrible, impulsive decisions I’ve made. I want to be happy, I want to be loved and yet I cling so strongly to somebody who does not want me. He’s made that quite clear at this point. Even if I don’t particularly believe it to be so, surely I must take into account his actual words and how he says he’s feeling rather than just be stubborn about it. I fear I’ve just talking (or well written) myself into another evening of truly feeling the loneliness and pain the entire situation has caused me. I beg that things are somehow different in the morning. I know I’ll feel better and will have stopped spiraling (or at least, I really hope so as I must study), but I hope that somehow things will be different. 

I’m unsure when ‘abs’ is actually returning, but I feel the need to speak into existence that I hope he has a safe journey back (an example of the ODC-like thought) “just in case”. My last text to him remains read but unanswered, and the slight feeling of dread and hopelessness lives on in my body. Perhaps I should have just gone to sleep rather than decide to journal and thus think; although I suppose actually thinking about things and how I feel can never really be a bad thing. For some reason the lyrics of ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ come to mind, “So Sally can wait, she knows it’s too late”. How strange, and I would say random but I suppose not quite.