Torture

I had another dream about Andy last night. It’s like, when I think I’m okay with things, I think I’m managing to move on in stride, then comes another dream, out of the blue and shaking me to my core. I woke up around 3:30 this morning and prayed to God to stop these dreams (apparently this is supposed to work) but when I woke up again at 6:30, I was still having the same dream. It was like my mind wouldn’t focus anywhere else. I want so desperately for this torture to stop, so as I still laid in bed this morning I googled “I can’t stop dreaming about my ex”. According to some lady named Wendy, my dreams are all relative to what is going on in my life currently. So, I mulled that over, and I came up with a few reasons that I might be having these dreams.

1) When Andy and I stopped talking late last year, I did my best to put him behind me, but deep down I always thought that he’d come back once things had aired out, like he always did. Our pattern dictated that he would wait a couple of months, and then text me out of the blue pretending nothing had happened and no time had passed. Except, this time he didn’t. It’s hard to realize that I was wrong, that I’m not going to spend my life with the person I thought I would. Maybe I never really moved on because I was waiting for him to come back.

2) My self-confidence is pretty low these days. Finding out that Andy had actually moved on was like a knife in the chest, but it’s not the first time someone has left me in the dust. It’s not even the second time. I’ve been cheated on or quickly replaced more times than I can count. I’ve been lied to, I don’t even know how many times. I don’t trust my own judgment anymore, and I feel like I’m unlovable.

3) There’s nobody left. For a long while after our breakup, The Italian and I continued to talk and be friends, but that has stopped in recent months. With all potential mates now officially removed from the equation, there’s no one to give me that little bit of romantic attention that gets me through each day without feeling lonely.

4) I am afraid that by becoming a mother, I am condemning myself to a life of singledom. I’ve never wavered on my decision to adopt, but I also haven’t prepared myself emotionally for the possibility that I will not have a long-term romantic partner to someday share my life with. That would mean losing hope, and I’m not sure I’m ready to go there, yet.

I’m not entirely sure what I’m supposed to do with this information, except perhaps be conscious of it. I just hope the dreams stop soon, because I have the potential to be in a really good place right now.

Mistake

…that feeling you get when you find out the love of your life has moved on with someone else… the heart stabbing, the panic rising, the blood rushing, the chest tightening, the can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t freak out because someone might notice…
…that.

I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to reach out after seven months of zero contact. I spent weeks thinking about if I should or not. I thought of every reason not to; I stalled myself the best that I could. But then I did it anyway; because I’ve been having dreams about him. After all this time, he’s come back into my head and my heart and I can’t shake him. I never could.

The stupid thing is that I knew. I knew if he wasn’t reaching out to me it was because he’d found someone else. I know him well enough to know that. So why did I need confirmation? Why on earth did I have to put myself through this torture when the torture of wondering and longing was lesser?

This is… a hit to the self-confidence. I know it shouldn’t be, but it is. This isn’t the first time I’ve been traded in for someone else. Not the first time I’ve loved someone who didn’t love me back. In fact, my exes who married right after me are now in such growing numbers that they could start their own club. Yep, definitely a hit to the self-confidence.

The funny thing is that Andy was the first man I ever felt could “put up” with me. He could banter with me; he could handle my strong opinions, my stubbornness and impatience and all the rest of my downfalls. We were great together. He gave me hope that I could be loved. But now that hope is gone, because I realize that I was never good enough for him. Two and a half years we spent pretending there were “obstacles” or fears of past hurts in the way, but he had no problem moving into a new relationship after me. During me, for all I know. His words were, “same job, same gf, same house”. So I guess this isn’t really anything new. While I’ve been longing for him, I probably haven’t even been a blip in his memory. Yep, definitely a hit to the self-confidence.

I’m not lonely. I’m not even looking for someone to love right now. I’m so focused on the adoption and my house that relationships don’t even cross my mind, except for him, while I sleep. I wish I could make it stop. Maybe it will now. Maybe this will bring peace in time, once the hurt stops and I stop feeling like I just got the wind knocked out of me. In time.

Around a Year Ago

It was around this time last year when I had my meltdown. I hit the depression stage of grief, after losing my father. My relationship with Y came to a heartbreaking and unexpected end, and my work atmosphere had me so stressed out that I could barely face walking into the office each day.

I remember bawling during my entire morning commute one day. I remember sitting in the parking lot trying to catch my breath and stop myself from crying and shaking. I was having a major panic attack.

That day marked the climax of my breakdown, and it was also the day I started to heal. I already knew my mind wouldn’t be focused on my job that day, so I spent my time searching the web for a psychologist, and later that afternoon I saw my family doctor who prescribed me both an antidepressant/anti-anxiety medicine, as well as Ativan (Lorazepam) for the tough days. I also bought a journal and started writing my feelings out. There were a lot of them, they were messy, but it helped.

That day didn’t fix things, but it got the ball rolling. My grief was full bore ahead for quite some time, I couldn’t understand why things ended with Y, and I had to pop an Ativan before I could go to work most days because tension in the office was just that bad. I was being bullied. I ugly cried in front of my boss. Twice. If I wasn’t crying I was on the verge of telling her exactly where to go. It was a horrible few months.

Eventually, the meds started kicking in and I was able to keep it together a little better. It took a couple tries but I eventually found a shrink I clicked with, and we worked through a lot of abandonment issues that I was left with after my parents divorce. For the grande finale, I gave my two weeks notice just after Christmas and was able to decompress for nearly a month before starting my new job. From there, things were on the upswing.

Today, I’m in a healthy office environment. I have a job where
I’m praised, appreciated, challenged and supported. I miss my dad every day, but I’m sad about it far less often. I have moved on romantically, and I’ve made the decision to pursue my life dream of adopting an older sibling group.

My life isn’t perfect yet, and I doubt that’s even possible, but I have come so, so far over this past year. I’m finally living for me, and I’m happy about that.