torn
A page in the diary "My Dairy"
Written by cristina 2. Nov 2008 07:27 PM
I can't help feel a sense of hesitance as I type. Looking back, I've noticed I've been attending this site for four years now. That's not to say I've had a consistent form of depression for that long period, but rather, this has been like a refuge for me through hard times. And now another hard time has surfaced.
Four months ago from today, Felipe left to go overseas for three months. At the airport, I watched the doors close on him and there was only two words in my head "I'm free". I felt free. I felt alive. I felt scared- yes- I'm not going to lie, but nonetheless overwhelmed with a sense of calm peace. That was one moment in my life I will always remember. I felt my tumultuous relationship with him had finally come to an end and it was time to go on my own journey. For a couple of weeks, I did. I have never felt so positive or self-motivated in my life. Not to mention my health improved, I was exercising, eating well, seeing more friends and generally smiling again. Then something hit me like a volcano and I halted my progress. Self-doubt. My little negative voices slipping back in my mind, telling me I was no one without Felipe, and my progress would get me nowhere. And so I fell into a slump that would come and then go every so often for the following months ahead.
But in that time I grew. I must have. I was more mature, making and saving more money than ever. I became independant and started expanding my friendships and contacts. I began working harder than ever at the gym and inspiring others. Though my confidence around guys was still a little shaky.
And then I went back to the old ways, and slipped into my comfort zone. I lied. I called Felipe overseas and told him I was ill. I told him I was suffering some kind of serious 'illness' just to receive his love and sympathy over the phone. Isn't that pathetic? Isn't that desperate? And it became an intoxicating addiction. Whenever I felt I couldn't cope in my everyday life, I would call and message him and wait on edge until I received his sympathy. My mindset began to revolve around him, just after I'd fought so hard to get him out. I guess it was easier to fall down then to keep on picking myself up.
Upon his return, I felt confident and ready. But deep down I knew I wasn't. I was tired. I just wanted some kind of love. And so, I received it upon his return but it was tarnished. That was four weeks ago. Since, he has tried to push me out of his life. He has evidently moved on and I am clinging to him like a child to its parent. I am so desperate for his attention I am beginning to make myself sick just so he can care for me. There was one terrible day I remember continually making myself vomit and making myself so ill I had to be hospitalised. I did it so he would see me that day, and sure enough he drove me home from the hospital. But even then his heart wasn't in it.
Today I did the same thing. I staged a huge lie and made him pick me up from a hospital I never attended. As he drove me home, I was crying and crying and crying - not because I was ill - but because I was guilty. Guilty and overwhelmed with the knowledge that there are people out there who have real illnesses and I am feigning one simply for the attention of a boy who doesn't love me nor himself. How? Why? What has made me do this? What the hell is happening?
I feel like I've slipped under. I know I can get out - I know I need to leave him, but my lies have created such a large web that my emotions are tangled and I am literally torn between the two worlds.
God, help me.