I know for a fact that I think way more about everything than I should. Interests that range from politics to science to pop culture to baked goods inspire strong emotions no matter what (I'm a very emotional person). I do really need to sleep, since I have class later today, and I should get there fairly early so I can see about getting my student I.D. and everything. Anyway, while this is somewhat personal, this is mostly an expression of thoughts. Then again, every post is an expression of thoughts, but I always feel better when I get thoughts out of my head and put them somewhere else, be it a blog engine or a notebook.
The dissolution of my last romantic relationship, while painful in a strange way, offered the catalyst to get my shit together and prevail, solidifying my stance as a feminist and giving me some keys to understanding myself where I didn't really before. In the interest of avoiding personal backlash, I will not offer the gritty details of my relationship with my ex, but I think it bears some thought. Truth be told, I revisit that entire scenario, abstractedly and directly, more often than I would like. As it plays a strong role in my current situation, and it was only about two months ago that I terminated the relationship, I suppose it is understandable that many things remind me of what happened. Things have gotten better.
One of the things that I've examined, though not extensively, is why I have not experienced a heartbreak. I believe the reason is that the relationship was rough in itself, to the point where I was in a state of perpetual heartbreak. I felt horribly. The world was crumbling around me, to the point where death was an appealing escape route. I'm not sure why I felt the way I did, except that my boyfriend and his friend were treating me horribly, attempting to break me in some way. Yes, that's it. Especially the friend.
I was being subjected to some weird mind control (which I know sounds horrifyingly insane, but sadly, I believe pretty much every form of abuse is a means of breaking someone and molding them into something more malleable) and I was letting it happen. Granted, emotional abuse, especially "gaslighting", is very subtle. Someone skilled enough at manipulating can easily twist things and make a person believe that he/she is truly whatever the manipulating party wants said person to believe. My ex was/is very passive-aggressive, and though he resisted on some level, he also did not stand up for me when I needed support. Of course, I believe he has some very strong misogynistic beliefs. He truly seems to think women are not people but body parts for him to use.
In a way, perhaps the love of structure in one part of my mind and the personal internal chaos residing in the other were able to find some common ground and work to resist what was happening. The anxiety and depression perhaps serve some greater purpose, some helpful purpose, instead of simply being obstacles. Maybe certain mental "illnesses" are useful? I'm certainly not the first person to think so, since I know attention deficit disorder has benefits, such as the ability to multitask and promote creativity.
I know when I was getting over the shock of discovering my pregnancy, that maternal strength really was what freed me. I do believe that my panic mode, while much worse than plausible, was reasonable in a sense.
I did have feelings for my ex, and while I do not know where they faded or were dashed, somehow they were destroyed and I was merely this emotionless husk, only feeling anxiety and depression. I think on an unconscious or subconscious level, whatever love or infatuation I had was killed early on, and since I had no opportunity to examine my feelings, I grasped at this relationship because I felt I had nothing else. With my happiness being broken and beaten, I was slowly being primed for control. My anxiety and depression were the last emotion-like things I could hold on to, since they were truly mine. They were not inspired by another person or anything. They were my own controlled entropy.
Then I found out I was pregnant.
It was no longer just about me. I had this life inside of me to take care of. I had this baby who depended on me to be strong and to be healthy. In that instant, I lived again. I was no longer dead inside, no longer meaningless, no longer allowed to have the luxury of suicide. I had to grow up and think about the future in concrete terms. My ex was going to drag his feet, and I refuse to be the caretaker for a grown man. His friend wanted to control me and break me, and possibly abscond with my child and spread her insanity. That was not allowed.
While I did not realize it at the time, I see now that I allowed so much evil in my heart, so much poison, that I stopped caring about myself. I was nothing but emotional pain. I felt worthless, enough so that suicide, while scary, was inviting.
I reached out for help from my ex, and he pretty much laughed at my pain.
The joke's on him now, because I am free from him. Sure he remains a thought, but there is no sadness connected to him. Only pity, and laughter.
I felt pain at how disappointing he was, at how much of a failure as a person he was, but not on the level of missing him or wanting him back, but that I ever had feelings for such a sad, pathetic person.
Now, I think I'll sleep.
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