Thursday, 27 April 2017

Obsession with the past

I was looking at my Facebook memories (as I do every day) and realized that nine years ago today I woke up next to someone else's partner. I made some fucked up choices after drinking tequila at a party in the house I shared with two amazing ladies in Cork, Ireland. Those choices changed my life. I have no idea how my life would look today if it wasn't for that night. I don't know what made me feel drawn to that dude, why I made the choice to go to bed with him. I don't remember much of the party, or what happened in my bed (more because of the nine years since it happened than because of the tequila I think, but I'm sure both had an effect). I remember the song that was playing on repeat inside, I remember that we were standing outside, smoking, and everyone else went inside. I remember one of my housemates asking me the next day why that guys shoes where in the hallway when she woke up early in the morning. (Or maybe went to bed early in the morning?)

I fell for him, a very stupid "love", a toxic relationship without future or reason or logic. We were drawn to each other by some kind of undeniable force and we let it happen, we hurt each other and others, everything was dramatic and serious and stupid and... ugh. It drained the happiness from my life.

He moved to Sweden. He got married. And he kept writing to me, "refusing to become a memory" as he said. The idea of being adored was just too sweet. I tried to move on, I don't think I answered his emails but I don't know. Maybe I did. I don't remember. I knew even then that he was using me to feel special, more than anything else. I knew on some level. But unfortunately it didn't help, I still wanted nothing as much as I wanted him.

He and his wife separated. He contacted me and wanted to see me. I came running. So stupid. We became a real couple, finally, after years of stupid f*cking drama. I moved back to Stockholm and we lived together. It was never good. He never wanted it to become real, everyday, ordinary. That was all I wanted. I never really got it. It was a couple of years wasted. Terrible f*cking years. He was mean, and manipulative, and he didn't love me. Not at all. I think he wanted to keep me around because it was comfortable, I cooked and cleaned and payed for most of our food and furniture and clothes for his kids, so that he could spend his own money on fun stuff.

I loved his kids so much. So much that when I knew I should have left long ago I couldn't. I couldn't leave them. I couldn't leave them with him.

Then he started isolating me from them, cutting me off from them. And there was no reason for me to stay at all anymore.

Surprisingly the kids' mother contacted me when we broke up. I had not been allowed to talk to her. (!) We became friends. And I could see the kids. I still love those kids so much. And I love their mom. But I don't really think about their dad anymore.

Me and the kids' mom started comparing things that he had told us and very soon realized that there was a huge discrepancy. He had been lying, about everything, all the time. Everything. I didn't actually know anything about him at all.

Breaking up from someone who has spent years breaking you down is a pretty big deal. At the same time I had a lot of stress at work - a LOT of stress. A recipe for success, if by success you mean burnout and a depression that had been building up since that one night, nine years ago. That depression is still present in my life but at least that dude is not! The kids and their mom are though. And I'm happy about that. When I told her that her ex husband had been cheating on her with me she just hugged me. I was crying a lot. I love her. And I love her kids. And now I'm living in a different county again, and I miss them, but I'm so happy they are in my life.

I wonder where my life would have taken me if that night never happened. Who I would have been.

Thursday, 23 March 2017

Nine years and eleven months

Since I started writing on this blog! In one month (approximately) the blog will be 10 years old. That means I was 22 when I started writing it. A lot has happened since then.

Right now I'm sitting in the floor in my craft room. I'm drinking tea. It's cold. I'm talking to a good friend on messenger. About narcissists. Last night I read this article and so much fell into place. Everything I went through at school in Leksand about four years ago suddenly made sense. It was like reading a checklist, or like someone had been watching exactly everything that happened. I was the perfect victim for a narcissist. I was so easy to manipulate. To befriend, to turn against. To turn everyone else against. I wish people weren't so willing to turn against me.

But it answered the question that has been on my mind almost constantly since then: why?

Why did this happen? What did I do?

I'll always be grateful for the people who didn't eat up every lie she spread like it was some kind of divine truth. The people who had my back, who helped and supported me. And most of all to the few that are still my friends. Those people show me that I'm actually okay, I'm not some kind of monster. Because if I was, I would not get to have the coolest, most amazing, kindest, most thoughtful, talented friends.

I can't say losing people who listen to rumors and accept lies is a huge loss.