Inside, I am still just a scared little girl who doesn’t want to grow up.
A few days ago, I was feeling very unwell, in addition to feeling really down. I decided to have a bath in hope that I would relax a bit and I would be able to get a decent night’s sleep, for once.
I put some music on, lit a cigarette and sat there in the water for a long time contemplating my life and why I am so terribly unhappy at the moment. For the majority of the time, when I feel like crap I put it down to being bipolar, lapsing in and out of my life-long eating disorder (and so feeling like a fat failure), and/or craving a drink. But this time, I realise it is something different; it’s not down to my mental health.
I have been feeling stuck in a rut, like my life is going nowhere and actually has no purpose at all, but- most of all- and what I realised during my contemplation, it comes down to my relationship. I hate to admit it, it is more painful than thinking I can take pills to stabilize my mental health problems; there is no pill for this, and- in fact- right now it feels like there is no solution, either.
I am a frightened little girl, and I don’t know how to deal with real life problems like this. I feel so alone in all that I feel and do, and for so long, in and out of my serial relationships, I have relied upon turning to my partner for comfort and reassurance.
And so, since that day I have been trying to figure out what exactly is wrong, and unfortunately in the mean time things have gotten so much worse.
Jules and I have only been together for nine months and, at least in my opinion and by popular belief, we should still be in the honeymoon period. In the beginning, things were magical and surreal. I had never met anyone like him. He was exciting, talented, intelligent, compassionate and an individual but- most of all- the kindest person I had ever met. He made promises to me that would involve a lot of sacrifice and he seemed so selfless and romantic for it.
No man had ever offered to do it for me before, but he pledged that he would give up drink and drugs for me, to protect my recovery.
And these broken promises are a large part of the problems we are having at the moment.
For quite some time now, I have felt like something huge is missing from our relationship. I am a very insecure person and I need reminding more than most that I am worth something to someone. I need to feel loved. I wear both my heart and my flaws on my sleeve and I am incredibly open and honest, the whole of the time, I have no problem with expressing love when I feel it. But Jules has changed. The affection which he showed me early on has all but disappeared, he doesn’t make me feel needed and, actually, a lot of the time he literally ignores me. It seems he would much rather be out with his friends, drinking (and smoking pot, as it turns out), and then when he is home he is either staring at Facebook for hours on end or having naps.
I don’t feel like I play any sort of an important role in his life anymore, and I don’t believe I am capable of making him happy.
But it is not all him, I blame myself for a lot of the way he has been acting because of how high maintenance I am due to my list of problems. I have been physically ill since the moment we got together, I have been craving a a drink and seriously thinking about relapsing (after three years of well earned sobriety) and I have had a lot of mental difficulties relating to my bipolar, i.e. being manic or going as low as feeling suicidally depressed. I completely understand that I am a difficult girlfriend but- at the same time- Jules knew what he was signing up for before we even got together.
And so, after that long-winded story, I can get to what has been happening during the past three days that has triggered all of my negative emotions.
I am on the Isle of Wight, visiting my parents while Jules went off to a festival the same day I left to come here. I was a little sad anyway, knowing that he would be having the time of his life while I am here on this tiny island with nothing to do and no friends bar my dog. Deep down I also knew he would be doing hard drugs which both worried and aggravated me. I so badly wanted to be there with him, but as usual I was prevented from doing so because I feared that I would drink.
The last message I received from him was over three days ago saying that he was running out of battery but would be sure to call me from another phone. Days later, after no contact whatsoever, I went so far as to believe that he had died. I wondered if he had cheated on me or was having serious doubts about our relationship because of the way things have been going lately, and I also wondered if he had taken too many drugs and put himself in danger.
I worried and I worried. I tortured myself with these ideas, I cried a lot and even begged the universe for him to call. I messaged his mum, called her and his father, but no one had heard anything, and then I was told that he was due back in Canterbury last night and had failed to turn up. That’s it, I thought, it’s over; no more Jules and Michaela.
He eventually called late last night and came up with the excuses that I had been expecting. The drugs were not denied and that made me feel utterly betrayed and that he had no respect left for me. There were many occasions when he would come back home late at night, stinking of booze and acting totally high, and yet he would deny smoking and claim he had had half a pint. I exclaimed that I was not born yesterday; I once had a major problem with drugs myself and thus have a sixth sense for it. This he could not deny either, the feelings of betrayal intensified.
As he had promised more than once, and as I am feeling so vulnerable around alcohol and drugs at the moment, I asked if he would choose his current lifestyle over our relationship. Silence.
As much as I battle with not liking any part of myself (neither mentally and emotionally nor physically), I do sometimes- just sometimes- feel I deserve better than to feel pain so much of the time. By most people’s standards, I have not had the easiest life, and I still don’t, it doesn’t feel like my ship has ever come in and that perhaps it never will, and I have forgotten what it feels like to be happy for more than one moment. I may be difficult to live with, or at least to be involved with romantically, but do I not deserve to feel fulfilled for once? To feel wanted and loved for all that I am? Don’t all of us deserve that?
Right now I wonder if that will ever happen for me, and for that reason I have doubts that I will ever be able to accept me for who I am; to love myself.