Can’t get away from myself

Hello all, first post here. I’ve been reading through other people’s stories, and have felt touched (and even a little happy) to see the respinses and support coming from others. So i figured i might share my own story, so that i might feel some understanding. I’m going to type a very long story here, and to anyone who reads even a little bit, i offer my thanks. I am going to sound a little bit dramatic, because right now i am feeling dramatic, and depressed (though that word feels so insignificant compared to the gaping emptiness in my chest). I am going to talk mostly about my feelings, not getting too much into the other person’s for the sake of time and word count. I guess know these few key things going into it:

– i have pretty intense social anxiety

– my ex-partner, Fee, is well aware of that, and has been incredibly kind and supportive in the past

– i bear absolutely no ill will toward anyone in this series of events. I feel like absolute trash, but I don’t attribute that feeling to anyone else. Most of the things that Fee feels, i have almost complete understanding for.

Someone once told me about something theit therapist once used to help them through something – the therapist drew a large box, composed of twelve smaller boxes. They said “Blank, these twelve boxes are the things that you live for. We’re going to fill them in today, and the less boxes that are empty, the less empty you will feel.” They proceeded to fill in boxes together, and eventually came to a comfortable place.

Now that she is gone from my life, i realize that I had filled all twelve of my boxes with a single person. My dear friend and partner (in many senses of the word), who i will call Fee. And now that she is gone from my life, all twelve of those boxes are violently empty.

I met Fee about four years ago, and was immediately taken with her. I often use the metaphor of a ballroom to describe social maneuvering – people turn and twist and glide, flitting from partner to partner, some more gracefully than others. People wear masks and fancy outfits and shoes. For most of my life, I’ve been the person on the fringes, finding myself easily tangled up in the thick of the dance, bumping into others and tripping them up as i stumble along. Meeting Fee was to see someone stroll confidently through the fancy ballroom unshowered in a tanktop and cargo pants, still managing not to jostle anyone on her way, aside from those she intended to disturb. And it just so happened that she strolled right up to me.

To put it simply, she cut right through all the bullshit.

We were coworkers first, and then friends, and then lovers, and then partners. At the time that we met, i was very deep in a relationship that was incredibly emotionally abusive to me, something that still affects me on a day to day basis. Fee was one of the first people that i trusted to confide about how much of a toll the abuse took on me, and, much later,  was the one that eventually pushed me to end that relationship. We shared views politically and socially, which i can’t say happens with anyone else. I almsot immediately felt a connection and safety with her that i had never felt with anyone else, a just true like and admiration for her core self. She was just… “there” in a way that nobody else i had ever met was. We hiked and talked and got to know each other for a few months, and eventually it got to a point for her where she cared so much that it was affecting her outside life to see me so broken and abused by the person i was with. At the  time, she didn’t feel comfortable telling me to end it, and didn’t see me ever doing so on my own, so in an act of  self preservation she decided to cut our growing friendship down to the nub of workplace acquaintances. At the time, she had only just begun to fill a box, and so losing that friendship was sad but understandable and manageable. This was the first time we “split up”.

About a year later, she decided to leave the company. She wanted to reconnect before she left, and i did as well. We hiked, and i found my flame for her readily rekindling without hesitation, and so when i saw her next, i told her, and she reflected my feelings. So we began to date, which my abusive partner was actually pretty happy about – she was polyamorous, and always wanted me to see other people like she did. Dating Fee was great. We connected on a deeper level than ever before, very quickly. Her steely demeanor gave way to a warmth and affection that i never knew could come from her. We made love, we fucked, we held each other. She slowly started to occupy more boxes. Eventually, things got really, really bad with my abuser. Fee (also polyamorous, though at this point we were very focused on each other), told me how hard it was to see me getting emotionally beaten so bad, and through talking with her and my therapist i decided to end my abusive relationship, which i still consider the second best decision i have ever made. My abuser has since grown immensely as a person, and we find ourselves fast friends today. Fee and i continued our relationship for about a year, and during that time started a business together with another old coworker of ours. Things went smoothly until an old lover of hers, noted here as Quincy, came through town. Quincy had hurt her very, very badly. In my eyes, he was and is a thoughtless person who couldn’t care less about what other people feel as long as he gets what he wants. He came into town and contacted her, and she decided to have him sleep at her house, in her bed, with her for a night. This was important for her to face the person who hurt her, to experience him and then watch him leave and not have it wreck her life. I couldn’t understand this, and was hurt and scared that this person would take advantage of her. I also couldn’t understand why she would want to spend time with someone who wasn’t worth her time instead of me. I am not great at polyamorous relationships. I voiced these feelings to her, and she said it was important to her so i didn’t push her on it. The night passed, and we talked about it. They got dinner, then he went to run some errands before coming back to her place. Except he never came back – she waited for a few hours before calling him, and he was making out with some other woman and said he’d come over tomorrow instead. So she said “Fuck you.” and hung up, and hasn’t spoken to him since. At the time, she said she needed to focus on herself and take some time away from men, so we split up for the second time. This was difficult, and she was occupying more boxes than before, but i managed. I hadn’t done anything overtly wrong, and so i didn’t feel like anything was my fault, and she needed the space, which i respect.

Seven or eight months later, she asked if she could come to my house. We had been hanging out a good amount in the interim, but she had never come over to my place. And she wanted to come over at night time. So she did, and we had dinner and then retired to my room. Shw informed me that her sex drive was going a little wild, and that she trusted me quite a bit and would like to be friends with benefits, and i complied. We grew close physically once again, and then regained the emotional closeness that can only accompany a couple in those glowing, hushed minutes post-coitus or as the sun rises on faces pressed close together and hands entertwined – not fucking, but just being close, and comfortable, and vulnerable, and trusting. Eventually, this too came to a close around May of last year. At thus looking point, id say she occupied about 7 or 8 of 12 boxes. So, when she grew frustrated with me, and felt like i wanted her more than she wanted me and left, the hurt was big, and difficult, but i had other things to focus on. She spoke as though she had a fundamental incompatibility with a core part of me, and said that hanging out didn’t bring her joy. She wasn’t sure why, and didn’t want to feel this way, but she did, and couldn’t change it.  I cried and grieved, but understood and moved on. This was the third time we split up.  We still owned (and still own) a business together, and seeing her often was difficult but, like i said, manageable.

Finally, in June of last year (one month before my birthday), she wanted to hang out again. So we did, and it was very nice. We played games, walked dogs and spent a nice day together. A few days later, she texted me to say that she wasn’t sure why she was feeling so affectionate towards me suddenly, then realized that she was ovulating, and her body was directing her towards what it thought was a suitable mate for conceiving a child. She apologized for not realizing this sooner, and apologized for potentially giving me the wrong idea. Then a few weeks later, she came over for dinner, and we chatted in my driveway for hours before she went home. Then a week after that, she came over and slept over, and we had sex, and she cried. We slowly built our relationship again from there, both of us afraid to label it or talk about it for fear of ruining it. I was being very cautious about letting her fill up boxes, considering our history. Eventually, she started dating some other people casually, and so needed to categorize our relationship as “dating” so as to have a fair term to  describe us with to others. Because that’s just how she is, and i love her for it. Eventually i started thinking that this might not crash and burn like it had in the past. Like maybe it was okay to let myself get a little bit attached. And so i did, though i tend to take things to the extreme. And over time, she came to occupy every single box, or at least be a part of every single box. Without realizing it, i lost my sense of self and became only part of “Fee and I”. And for a little while, it was the happiest i had ever been. Then things started to decline, just a tiny bit by tiny bit. She started getting frustrated with me easier, cuddling less, smiling less. And this all made sense – she had recently moved out of her house of 8 years, a long and exhausting process. She was feeling unstable and unsure of her place. At some point, she planned a month long road trip to her hometown in Florida and back (we live in California). We couldn’t both leave the business for a month, but she invited me to fly to Texas on her way back and join her for the last month of her trip. I was enthralled, and agreed immediately, thinking this would be the best camping/road trip of my entire life. We made those plans about a month before she left for her trip, and over that time, or relationship continued to decline at a steady pace. About a week before she left, we had a long, teary-eyed talk at a local diner about us. It was hard, and neither of us left satisfied, but as soon as we both had some solo processing time we both felt a lot better about it. For me, i had some clarity as to why she was acting differently – her stress from moving never really dissipated, and she was constantly struck with anxiety, something which isn’t normal for her. For her, i would later learn, she came to the conclusion that we shouldn’t date anymore. The day before she left, she invited me to stay over at her house, and after a night of sleeping separately in the same bed (a confusing experience for me, at the time) she told me about her decision to stop dating, but that she still wanted to be good friends. And this, whoever may be reading out there, is where i truly started to fuck up. As i mentioned, at this point she had really and truly occupied every single box. And so, when she brought this up on the morning she would be leaving for a month, i panicked, and floating in the thick, sticky tar of my panic was an animalistic greed. How was i supposed to sleep in a bed that she would never be in again? How was i supposed to shower in a tub that we would never laugh and splash at each other in again? How could I eat  at a restaurant that we would never hold hands at again? How could i possibly watch her with other people, knowing that they shared these experiences with her when i could not? How could i ever find someone else to connect with on so many levels as i do with her? How could i ever love anyone as much as i do her? How could i live any sort of life like this? And believe me, i know how selfish this line of thought is. I think i knew it at the time too, but was so overwhelmed with panic and fear that i didn’t realize it. I brought some of this up, and she listened and held me, and apologized and told me she loved me. We talked a bit, and i told her i should leave before i really break down, since she didn’t deserve to deal with something like that (she had only been there for one real break down before – i try to experience them on my own, since it can be quite a lot for another person to handle). Depending on how well I’ve gotten across my emotions in the past, you may be wondering why this was so much worse for me. The answer is because she became my every single thing, and though we would still be in each other’s lives, it would not be to the extent that i had gotten used to and, honestly, gotten attached to. She left for her trip, and we texted some. I spoke extensively with my therapist. Fee and i spoke on the phone a few days after she left, and she asked how i had been.  i told her the truth – pretty dang bad. I asked her to reconsider her decision – one of my big fuck ups. I wish i had just respected her choice, i really do. I was just so fucking caught up in and attached to our life, please understand that. I know having regrets and wishing i had done things differently doesn’t help anything, but i can’t escape those thoughts. Anyway, she said there was nothing to consider – she had made her choice and would stick by it, and wouldn’t like to talk about it anymore. So we chatted about her trip so far, said we loved each other and hung up. We had another, similar phone conversation a few days later, and texted, but that dwindled as her trip continued. I wish it ended here, but i still had to join her on her trip.

She went from California to Florida in a week or so, spent about a week and a half in her hometown, then drove to Texas with her childhood friend Carol. After spending three weeks trying to process her sudden physical and geographical departure, i was scheduled to meet her in Texas for the last week of the trip. I couldn’t possibly allow myself to not go, as bad as an idea as it may have been. I flew in to Texas and met up with Fee, Carol, and their friend Diane, who lived in Texas. I learned that we would be staying at Diane’s house for the night and then heading out in the morning. Carol was leaving on a plane from Texas later that evening. This was very difficult for me – i have a good deal of social anxiety to begin with, and that is quadrupled when in a stranger’s home. So being around two people who i had never met, in a stranger’s home, while I was already so worn down from the three weeks prior and not sure of what the person i love even thought of me. And when I’m that anxious, i find it hard to function. So i was there, and present, and participatory, but only enough to not be rude. Probably i was rude anyway, just by not being talkative or smiling a lot. I know i was at least rude for being on my phone while with people, but in my defense i was talking to my therapist to help me get through. But i tried, i really really did. I performed to the maximum  of my capabilities in my current mindset, i want you to know that. Come night time, we went to bed, in the same bed. It is very difficult, sleeping next to someone you love, and have shared such copious and beautiful touch with, and having No Touching be such a steadfast rule. I got up, said that this was really hard for me, and went to take a walk outside and call my therapist (she’s pretty great, in case you couldn’t tell already). The walk and talk went as well as it could, and i was able to go inside and get to fitful sleep, but sleep nonetheless. When day came, we woke up, ate, pwcked the van, said our goodbyes and left, with the idea of discussing further in the car. I fucked up again here. I was tired, and kept dozing off in the passenger seat. She had told me to leave my anxieties behind at the house, and so i guess part of me was trying to do that, but also, i was just scared. I was terrified of whatever conclusion this talk could bring, because some part of me still hoped that things would go back to “normal” soon. So i didn’t bring it up, and neither did she, for a while. When she did, we talked and i was glad for it, even though it was very difficult. A lot came up. She still felt the same in terms of ending our dating relationship, she highlighted our incompatibilities in greater detail, she mentioned the stark contrast between hanging out with her Florida friends and me, she said she made a decision to not help me anymore (in social situations, with anxiety/depression etc). I felt like i had more understanding on the situation, and that is helpful for me. So i think we both felt better, for a little while. Then she brought up two things – one was that, while in Florida, she had developed a huge crush on one of her old childhood friends there. Difficult to hear, but understandable. She said that she had those feelings, but that he didn’t need to be a part of them since it would only make his life more difficult (he had a girlfriend already, lived in a different state, etc), and i believe she brought this up to introduce me to the idea that she didn’t have to be a part of my feelings for her. The other thing that she brought up was that she had decided to move out of state, probably in 3 years, but maybe sooner. She had decided to move out of state, and didn’t want me to come with her, because she’s extra social when she’s in a new place, and wouldn’t want me to be her ball and chain. California was a place that she no longer felt good going back to, this was something she had realized on her trip. This was the biggest blow i had felt so far – not only would we not date (which now seems so trivial sometimes), but we would not even be geographically close. We wouldn’t even be friends. Suddenly, there was some point in the future where my life did not contain this person at all. This terrifies me still – she was all of my boxes, after all. (In addition to this, I’m not sure how well our business can function without her, which is a totally separate if not still very scary concept).

So i took that in, and tried to process. I tell you what, that’s a difficult thing to to when you’re stuck in a car with the person and have to sleep next to them every night. But i did. I spent some time in silence, and was able to find some spots/activities on our trip that filled me with adrenaline, which helped. Within a couple days, i felt better some ans had a new goal – stop being a burden on her, and have a good time on this trip. And so we did, or so i thought. Don’t get me wrong – i wasn’t perfect. I wasn’t acting like her Florida friends, always making each other howl with laughter and knowing what to do. But i was me, and i joked and laughed and smiled at her. But one day (two days before the end of the trip), she got strangely silent, and snappy. I’ll say this to you, now – she never is full on snappy or rude, she has a good deal of control over herself. But it was there, and i knew her well enough to see it. She would respond to my questions with this tone of “you should know the answer to this already”. We went through vegas that day, ate at a buffet, gambled a little. We got semi-matching tattoos of one of the hiking events of our trip. That night, we stayed at a small casino hotel about a hundred miles out of vegas. We drank a little bit (very very rare for me – i had a white russian and some sips of her LIIT) and played some video black jack. It was fun. At the end of the night, before we went to bed (separate beds, thank god), i was going to put a towel at the bottom of the door crack to block out the light, and she snapped at me that she was going to use that in the morning. So i said that sometimes she talks to me like I’m stupid, and that I’m not really down for that. She responded by saying that she had no emotional energy to process our friendship, and i understood that, so we slept. The next morning, we left and she said that we should talk about that, so we did. And this is where it gets truly hard for me.

We started to talk. I don’t want to go over the whole thing. Basically it boiled down to this –  she resents me. Quite a bit. For not respecting her decision to break up, for being such an anxious fuck at Diane’s house, for being a part of her california experience, which was now laced with anxiety and negativity. She has lost all respect for my feelings. And to be honest, i get this resentment, and in some ways that’s worse. I understand that it can run deep, and affect everything you do with that person. That someone you once loved and cared for can suddenly just appear differently in your eyes, a total stranger almost. Seeing them from a completely different angle. And i learned that, ever since Diane’s house, she had been feeling this resentment toward me. The whole trip. Every moment that i thought was good, and fun, was for her actually just time spent with someone she resents. Do you know how bad that feels? To be that big of a burden, when you thought you weren’t? I was crushed, and still am. We finished our trip that night. I told her i just wanted to have a decent time for the remainder of the trip, and she agreed. It was okay. I was quiet, but not sulking. I didn’t know what to say. Every action i took, i just felt in contrast with the people she had just left, the people that she actually liked. If i didnt talk, we didn’t share a connection like she did with them. If i did talk, I’d say the wrong thing, and we didn’t connext in the same same like she did with them. I felt (feel) like I had ruined everything. I wish, i WISH so much that I had just acted differently. That i had taken my sadness at her breakup decision and dealt with it away from her, without asking her to reconsider. I wish i had forced myself somehow into a difderent mindspace at Diane’s house, and not been so anxious and weird. I wish I had brought some kind of sleep drug to knock me out so it wasn’t so hard sleeping that first night.

I wish and i wish, and i know that that doesn’t change anything, or make anything better, but my mind does it without my consent. I am constantly haunted by thoughts that I cannot control. Memories of the trip. I see hee, everywhere. Almost every single place in my life has some memory of her, and so no place is safe. Every room in my house, every chair, every couch, the bathroom, the shower, the backyard, the front yard, my car, all the streets that i drive. All have memories of her smile, her warmth, of sweet words exchanged and love shared. All are reminders that i destroyed that. But worst, worst of all is my room. My room is overflowing with memories, down to every little detail and object. She moved that poster to a better spot, she commented on this figure, she sat in this chair, she used my computer, she comolained about my keyboard, she laid on this pillow, she smiled at me from this bed in the wee hours of the morning and told me to get back in, it’s cold. This is the worst. Having my room be my biggest, most constant reminder of everything that has gone wrong. Even in sleep, i only dream of her. There is no safe place, no escape. I feel like i am going insane, and i know that she doesn’t care in the slightest. Even the thought of killing myself (which is an idea i am well, well familiar with) doesn’t bring the comfort that it used to. Whatever is waiting on the other side of life, even if it’s just absolute nothingness, these feelings would follow me there and be with me forever. There is really nothing i can do to escape them, and it terrifies me. I don’t know what to do. I am just so, so lost, empty and sad.

If you read this far, or read at all, thank you, really. Wriring this out has been both excruciatingly painful and also i think helpful, even if to some small degree. I typed it all out on my phone, so there are probably some errors. And i definitely skipped over some stuff because i don’t want this to be 10k+ words. I could have gotten in a lot more about her feelings, but again, time and wordcount. I have already spent close to four hours writing this, and don’t think i can handle much more. I feel like a terrible person because i have acted terribly, and i as a person feel terrible because i have lost everything that i truly cared for. Thanks for reading, i need to stop now.