First, a back story. J and I got together on a drunken night in October 2010. We were both fairly reserved as people go and given the choice we would've taken it slower. Not because we were trying to be sensible, just because we were both scared.
Two weeks into our relationship, however, we were thrown in at the deep end. I was kicked out of my home. J, being a longtime friend (and recently, partner) of mine no doubt felt it her duty to "take care of me". She let me stay at hers that night, along with a binbag full of clothes and a stinky dog (something that put her previously rampant OCD in check pretty quickly), she helped me find a house to rent with a mutual friend of ours. I think we were both very aware how much of a strain the situation could put on such a fresh, new relationship such as ours. But she came through for me.
I "lived" with my friend for 5 short months, but J and I were infatuated, we'd see each other everyday, she stayed at mine most weeknights, I'd come to hers of a weekend. She told me that that things were hard now, but they would get better. As long as the two of us made the effort, we'd be okay.
I officially moved in in May of 2011, although I'd given up on the rented place months before that. It was crazy, how well it worked. J had proposed the month before and it was fun to "play house" with her, she cooked, I cleaned. We were awesome together.
A year went by without any real incident, sometimes we argued, but that's to be expected, isn't it? Two headstrong, opinionated people, sometimes you're going to butt heads. The making up was my favourite. We took care of one another, she'd comfort me when I woke up in a cold sweat, remembering things that were best forgotten. I'd stay up with her all night whilst she finished the uni essay that was due in in six hours. Even though I had to be up in 5.
I don't know what happened. We were engaged, meant to be moving, saving for a mortgage. It just went wrong. The arguments became more frequent, the sex less. I became tearful and depressed. She wasn't connecting. My work sucked. She had a new job that caused her to be out at all hours of the day and night. I wasn't as supportive as I could've been. Neither was she.
The last week ('though I didn't know it would be at the time) was the hardest. She was working a late shift, a night shift, a late shift. I was doing 40+ hours that week. When she was home, I was out, and vice versa. We argued 3 times in as many days. She told me she needed space. I was hurt, we'd hardly seen each other. She wanted to be able to go out with friends, she was feeling more sociable. I said I didn't mind (I did a little bit), but what about seeing me? She said I needed to work on it. I said I would. She told me next week would be better. Things would be calmer, we'd have quality time. I told her I'd been feeling down, she suggested I make a doctors appointment. I refused.
Thursday 24th May. I knew something was wrong when I called her, I told her work were letting me go early so I could visit my GP, to talk about how I was feeling. She sounded distant. I told her I loved her. Nothing - a clipped "bye" and she was gone. Walking back from my doctors appointment I tried to be optimistic, the week was almost done. She said the next would be better. I was excited to see her, with our conflicting schedules, I hadn't seen her in days. I eagerly awaited her return at home. I felt juddery and couldn't sit still. I somehow ended up watching videos about a talking gorilla on youtube. I made a note to show J - it was pretty interesting stuff.
Something was off. She got back around 10. I continued watching my youtube video, suddenly nervous. She walked to the foot of the stairs and began unlacing her shoes. I stared resolutely at the screen. He sister, C, who lived with us bustled in and out of the kitchen making toast, then tea, then fussing over the dog. J didn't say a word. I swiveled in the computer chair so that the sofa she was on was directly opposite me. She met my eyes for a second, then dropped her gaze to the floor. After what seemed like an agonizingly long time to take making toast, C left.
"What's wrong?" I asked. She sighed. I knew.
"I can't do this anymore."
I'm not going to write the whole speech, it hurts to hear the words in my head every day, let alone see them.
I cried, a lot. Tried to tell her she was wrong, we could try. I surrendered every last shred of my dignity. Dignity meant nothing without her. I thought maybe she was testing me - seeing whether I'd fight to keep her.
I fought, but I'd already lost her.
And that is where this blog begins. It has been one week today since she broke up with me. In the last week I've lost so much. Her, my job, my home, my friends.
I feel like I've regressed about four years. I could give up now, I've got an okay set up. I won't go cold or hungry here. Or I could work on rebuilding my life, use this as an opportunity to make changes. I don't know which way I'm going yet, but I thought it might be interesting to chronicle it.
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