When I joined Therapy around a year ago, I had no idea where it would bring me. I was excited by the thought of getting through my issues and being able to be happy again, but I was very skeptical and scared to be fooled, too. One of the very first things that therapy taught me was to reflect on my actions, and to better understand why some things are extremely straight forward for some, but so difficult to explain to the world. I remember that then, I was going through a break up. My despair was beyond comprehended. My therapist helped me see that it was not his fault. She helped me see his point of view, the way things were for him.
I realized that I loved him too much to let it go. I accepted, I acknowledged, that his not doing enough for me was also him doing a lot for me. The difference was in the way we both looked at things. I realized that I had felt unloved, insecure, ignored … and through that, I had never stopped to appreciate him. If he wouldn’t call me, I’d wonder endlessly why he didn’t. I drowned myself in fear and self-rejection. I gave him hell by making him feel guilty, by playing the victim. If he wanted, he could have called. That was what made me think that if he wanted to stay with me, he’d do the small things that mean so much to me. Therapy made me see, that through this, I wasn’t acknowledging the things that he DID do. For instance, talking to me for hours, explaining to me how his loving me has nothing to do with not calling me. There were a lot of other things. A lot of connected dots that lead him and me to where we were at that point in time. I can’t go into it all, because the more I think about it, the more I want to invalidate it. It’s easier to just accept that we weren’t together because we weren’t meant to be, instead of thinking that we weren’t together because we both were incompatible. That our love wasn’t enough to fight some things.
I went home that day. I called him. I asked him to give me a chance. I wanted to do the same that he had done for me. I wanted him to lean back, and relax, and let me do all the work. He agreed. This was very different to the previous calls that I had made to him … crying, begging, and pleading. This was taking responsibility. This wasn’t begging; I told him that even if he said no, I’d wait. I’d be around as a friend until he saw that I’d changed. He said he loved me, and he wants to be with me, but he just doesn’t have it in him to take my shit anymore.
It’s been a whole year since then. A complete circle. It was beautiful … the time together. We laughed, we dreamt, we had a beautiful journey together. There were highs and lows. Some circumstances scared us both more than we thought life ever could, but we were by each other’s side through out. But, I don’t know how to explain this to you because I may not do it justice. In fact, I know I can’t do it justice because I keep it too blocked to write openly about it …
I want to say that we were both miserable too, but who am I to say what he felt, and what he did, and what he thought? I just know that I was miserable … I wanted a different kind of love than what he was willing to give. He never thought that choosing to go out with his friends when he hasn’t been able to meet me since a few weeks because of a busy schedule was anything worth making a fuss about. He never accepted that he had a different part of his life, albeit a small one, that was just his own … so many feelings of his were unsaid, blocked from my view. And that killed me. It hurt me. I couldn’t stand feeling so insignificant. In the end, he never did what would make me happier. The fight that lead to our break up was over a small request of mine for him to text message me when he would get free from his projects. We hadn’t spoken in two days except for two minutes at night before sleeping. The third day, when I got home from school, I thought he had been caught up in work, but that wasn’t the case. He had actually been home the whole day … chilling and napping. I lost it. Just a stupid text message?! When you know that it hurts me that you’re not in touch with me, how could you not make a gesture of messaging me just ONE text that takes two minutes to do? He perhaps couldn’t understand why a little message was such a big deal. Along with that, he kept leaving me. When we had a huge fight before Valentine’s Day, I expected him to call me on 14th Feb and make it right with me. He never did. When I called him, he said that was because he thought he wouldn’t be able to change my mind. He promised that he would never leave. I said that this is what he had said COUNTLESS times before, always proving himself wrong. He said that now, after seeing how important he is in my life, even if it gets very tough, and even if he thinks that it is me who seems to have given up, he’ll still stick around to get me back. Yet, he left. He left … He told me he needed a break from me. The rejection, and the pain, and the humiliation I felt! I asked him a rhetoric question, “But you still love me, right?” His silence felt like it was strangling me. He said, “Nahl, to be really honest, I really don’t know right now.”
I’ve come a full circle from that girl who sat in therapy, helpless, confused, and unable to move on. I’m hurt, I’ve been abandoned, and I’m rejected. He doesn’t love me anymore. I just accepted this an hour ago. Before that, I thought that he loved me, he just didn’t know it, or he couldn’t make it work with me despite his love for me. An hour ago, I became aware by his actions. He is not in love with me anymore. I don’t even know how this feels to say it aloud. I also know … I have had some insight to why he left, or why he didn’t stick around. It’s easier to say that he never loved me, that he wasn’t ready to commit, or that he’s the guy who rather have fun than keep a girl for whom he’d have to worry about things like when to text message, or why saying things lightly like the best times he has had has been with his boys would secretly make me feel bad. I’ve known that I have baggage, but so does he. I’ve accepted that I make people feel that they’re just not enough. I make them go away. I tell them that before they get a chance to reject me, I’ll reject them. And when they finally get sick of the rejection, I cry and wither in pain of myself being rejected. I used to keep threatening him with by saying I don’t want to be in a relationship with him, just because I wanted him to run after me to get me back. But when he’d leave me, all he wanted was some space from me. I don’t let anyone touch me. No one can come close to me. I realize now, that I felt my love for him through my heart, but I only felt his love for me through my mind.
It’s still very painful for me that he left me. Just like that … however miserable I was with him, it was still better for me to be with him than without him. It wasn’t that case for him, and for that, I might never forgive him. To leave me stranded. I had had dreams with him … I made my life with him. He had promised me a few hundred things. I hate how he isn’t feeling my absence in his life. How he is able to have a hearty laughter over a joke his friend cracked, when I can do neither of those things. It hurts me, it kills me to love him, to still be in love with me.
But if only he had messaged me that day. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for.
If it’s my issues that lead me to want constant attention and security, then perhaps, there is a reason to why he wouldn’t say, ‘ok nahl, you’re unjustified in asking for it, but I’ll do what I can do’. It was JUST a message. And if he had already done all that he could … then obviously, that’s not what is enough for me. I don’t know who’s right, or who’s wrong. I have needs, some people might not recognize the rationality behind them, but they’re still valid needs. I can’t keep denying those to myself. I’ve stopped blaming it on me, though. I know that if he wanted it to work, he could have made it work. I’m tired of being rejected, of being the one to ask him to come back. I’m over that. I want to move on, now. It never gets any easier.
I’m without him. But I’m in control. I’m happier than the last time we had broken up. I have the guts to make myself see that there’s a possibility that he has done the unsaid … the unfathomed … the impossible. An hour ago, I was able to see that he has gotten over me. I wrote this article, and right now, I’m back to shutting that possibility in my mind. “No, he can’t stop loving me. It’s not possible. He is just making it look like that so it’s easier for him to move on and also easier for me.” Yet, deep down, I know that I’ll have to keep poking myself to be aware of this fact. I fight with myself constantly in my mind over this. I’ll never know. It’s better to let him be, and concentrate on myself. Worry about myself than about what he thinks. I have shunned hopes of him coming back to me. Of my phone ringing, and him telling me that he loves me, and he can’t live without me. But it will never happen. I know that. And what I really, really, appreciate within myself is that even when I want him, I’m over wanting a relationship with him. I deserve a pat on the back for that. Whenever I want to be with him again, it’s because of the imagined relationship of us, rather than what was reality. Maybe, the reason why if he’d call me right now and tell me he loves me and wants me back…maybe, the reason why I’d say yes is because the deep void in me is unloved, and it wants to be consumed with love, because the little me, the little Nahl, was somewhere, felt unloved by her father. Despite never being happy with him, despite being constantly hurt by him and his actions. To be aware of that, is what makes me love me a bit more.
I believe that we loved each other endlessly. We just weren’t meant to be.
P.S. I have no idea how I’d think two days later. This is only as to how my thoughts are at this moment. My perceptions change daily. Sometimes he’s the ass, sometimes he’s heaven and I was the ass. At times, we both are okay, just the circumstances weren’t.