Tag: friends

I’m Fine. Fuck You.

This situation is new, but the feelings are all too familiar. I lost my dad when I was 20 years old and it ruined me. The next 2 years of my life included a headfirst dive into the joys of alcohol, followed by the sobering experience of failing a university course just because I couldn’t get out of bed. I didn’t eat. I didn’t sleep. I distanced myself from everyone I knew and loved—except for one person ironically enough.

This fucked up situation is different, but the motions are the same. In the first weeks, I stopped eating. This time the booze was followed by weed (I have expanded my horizons!). I refused to get out of bed until I had to, and even when I had to I’d still say fuck it. I lost interest in everything and I distanced myself from everyone.

So here I am, a month and change since my life came tumbling down around me, but I’m OK. Really. I’m OK. I know only a person who is not OK would try to convince you this hard that they are in fact OK, but seriously, fuck off, I’m fine.

Because I’ve learned that being OK is kind of the only thing I can do. I still drink and smoke too much, but I’m a musician in his 20s so let’s just let that one slide. But I make myself eat. I refuse to stay in bed and I am seeking out my friends as much as I can. I don’t let what she did ruin me. I don’t let her and this act consume my every waking thought. Not anymore. Because I am OK.

I tell myself I am OK. And even though it sounds like one, it is not a lie. It’s a hope. And it’s a reminder.

I have so many amazing things in my life and I need to remember that—as hard as it is. So I have learned to take my life day by day.

Today I woke up and I am healthy. I do not need to worry about where my next meal is coming from. I have an amazing mother and brother who I don’t see nearly as often as I should. I have an incredible network of friends and I love my job.

So I am OK. I’m fucking great… or at least I know I will be.

Friends… They’ll be there for you

Somehow when you’ve been cheated on you end up feeling ashamed. Even though you did nothing wrong. You feel judged for doing such a horrible job in picking a partner. You feel guilty for making others look at your partner in a negative way. You feel fucking weak and stupid just for considering giving them another chance.

So it is no surprise that I struggled to tell anyone.

I went for hours before finally calling my best friend Mark. He dropped everything and came straight to my apartment with a box of double stuffed Oreos: a solution to girl troubles we started back in middle school.

He helped me make it through those first days.

Mark made me talk about it, he made me laugh and poked fun at me like the sarcastic assholes we both are. He forced me to eat and just listened to everything I had to say. He offered his thoughts (he has a unique perspective having cheated in an early college relationship himself) but told me only I could make the choice. He has known me both in and out of this relationship and just wants the best for me. He called me every day after work for the next week and even Facetimed me shitfaced from vacation because I was having a bad day.

It can be hard to open up to friends and easy to feel like you are a burden, but it is times like these that make me remember, that is exactly what friends are for. So fuck it, use them.

I eventually told my best female friend, Amanda. Amanda is the kind of friend who knows exactly what to say. She reminded me that I am not weak for wanting to stay. In her eyes, I was picking the harder choice and she respected how much strength that took. She reminded me that I did not deserve this. Paragraph texts were sent and she calmly responded and listened to everything I had even as I felt like I was being nonsensical and ridiculous.

But then my friend’s support slowly slipped from neutral to very clearly against me staying in the relationship. They continue to respect that it is my choice and will genuinely support whatever I decide, but their thoughts are clear. 

And that sucks.

The people who care about me are telling me what they think I need to do, and even though there is a part of me that agrees and knows they are making sense, it is not what I want, and just not what I am going to do.

So I distanced myself. I became afraid to tell them anything. Every time I even hinted at wanting to end things, they would seem happy for me to finally make what they thought was the right decision. Anything my partner did that upset me I felt like I couldn’t share because it only reinforced what they thought about her.

This brings up the most difficult part of working past an affair. The only person I want to talk to, the only person I fully trust, and the only person who understands is the very person who hurt me. But can I really tell her “I hate you and think it might be best to break up” if I want to work through this with her? Probably not…

So I’m left alone. I try to talk to my friends when I need to get something off my chest, but I know every speed bump that comes my way is just another reason they think I should leave.

So I am fucking alone.