Take your love back, it makes me cry.

My first love made me feel like shit in all different ways that I’d never imagined even possible. Not only did he attack my work ethic, he also attacked my sanity, my mental vulnerabilities, my appearance, my personality, my health, my honesty, my relationship with myself, my family, my friendships. Everything I can imagine that I have built and spent years maintaining or even strengthening, he not only judged me for, but he re-wrote. For some stupid reason-no-because I loved him and I trusted him, I let him. Then I forgot myself, I said I’d stay, I cried, and I went back. I hate myself for it. However, the thing that I truly hate, is him. I see now with open eyes just how fucked up he is. The way he treated me, I would never wish onto another human being. He was cruel and he was aware of it. Every single thing he did was completely for himself and I have no idea how there couldn’t have been an ounce of empathy left over, tucked away somewhere in his mind. He let me pick up all his anger; insecurities, social and moral difficulties and fix them for him. And then he had the audacity to take that love and willingness, and empowering and use it to make me feel even worse about myself. He knew that he was getting away with it, taking advantage of my kindness, my emotions, my forgiveness. He knew that I was too good to be with him but instead of learning and trying to do better, he just tried to make me worse.

When I was with him, I lost myself again. I’ve lost myself before, to depression, anxiety, bullying, emotional neglect, sexual abuse. But to have someone chip away slowly and burn me from the inside out, until all that’s left behind is the smoke, it makes me feel responsible. It makes me feel like part of him must’ve been unaware, that I must have also consented. And it makes me so angry. I cried for months over losing him, losing that safety blanket and the one person I believed could help me through my worst points. And once I’d realised that I was crying over something that wasn’t there- I cried for longer over myself. Over who I was before I had met him, how excited I was to meet new people, how I’d pulled myself out of such darkness, how terrified and yet overjoyed I was as I started falling in love for the first time in my life without pulling myself away. I thought I’d lost it all, I thought I would never be able to feel anything close to that again, that all my memories would hurt, and my life would be grey agony, and that I wouldn’t let anyone in ever again. Then I decided that living like that would be so miserable, and that if I made the choice to keep living then I would have to put in a shit tonne of effort and do it properly.

I did everything that made me scared for a while. I said yes to nearly everything I possibly could say yes to. I made an effort to ask to see my friends, to ask to go for coffee, to ask for help. Asking for help is disgustingly hard but it gets easier every time someone says yes. I spoke to my Mum. I actually spoke to her, properly for the first time in years, and she finally understood me and we saw that we didn’t like each other, we loved each other but didn’t know how give it, I told myself that I had to try and let her in, hug her back and hug her tight, for both of us. I spoke to my Dad. I sat and cried to him, I told him I missed my love, my friends, my kitten, myself, and he gave me the support that I had been independently trying to create. He sat by me, he listened to what I said, he thought about it and gave me the assurance I needed, and then he told me we would fix this together. Feeling seen by my parents is exhausting. Telling myself that they love me and fighting the anxiety around it is exhausting, but it’s so rewarding because I get them in the end, and I get myself, and I give love and belonging to the child who didn’t feel like it was there.

I think healing over the past two years has not only taken me to my darkest points where I look into the mirror and hate who is looking back, but it’s also made me realise that I cannot grow unless I ask, and really push into anything that makes me uncomfortable not step around or apologise for it. Grief sucks away at me still, every day, but I try my hardest every second not to let loss wash over my existence. Those who passed, stay with me all the time and remind me to stay alive because life is precious. They had no choice leaving it so young- it would be such a waste to try and join them early on and risk everything they looked forward to and that I am lucky to be able to experience right now.

Speaking to my parents, having the courage to call the doctor, doing whatever is necessary, is the reason I am still here today. The joy that I got back, and the emotions that surge through me (despite wiping me out physically and mentally), are the reason why I will continue to keep pushing myself into and out of uncomfortable situations. I want to experience them because they feel so good to be a part of and remember. Seeing the way someone looks at you, and how their gaze changes over time, or sitting and petting an animal that doesn’t really understand why it feels great, but by no means ever wants you to stop giving it attention; it’s truly a reason to wake up most days.

The other one is me. It’s hard to compare myself to how I was when I was even a few months ago, but every day I trust myself more and more, because I am still here for me.

I have decided that I will be the constant in my life, and that I will do what I have to do to live comfortably:

-Meditate so that my heart and muscle tension gets a break.

-Sing in front of everyone I know because you can’t scare or bully me.

-Dance because I fucking love dancing even if I look like I’m on drugs (when I’m not this time).

-Practice yoga because I want to do the splits even if my hips won’t let me.

-Go clubbing because sometimes I get a craving for club music and sticky trainers and the kebab shop.

-Get better at sudoku because turns out I can actually do it.

-Wild swim, even if I’m scared that I’ll die of pneumonia, because I feel cold but alive.

-Ask sales assistants how they are when I shop because they are people too.

-Go into classes again even if you need to sit and have a quick smoke outside from stress beforehand.

-Tell a man I’ve literally just met that he’s pretty because I can’t think about anything else when I look at him.

-Write more poetry.

-Go to the gym and stand in the weights section even if men judge me.

-Fuck it go and ask one for a station and then practice the really light (but heavier this time) weights around them all.

-Sit with sweat patches in a comedy club because it’s fun but too bloody hot.

-Pass by the job I quit every day whilst I walk to the new one and get closer to staring in and maybe even waving at the grumpy manager.

-Smile at tables of people and try making them laugh hoping that they find me endearing and leave me a tip.

-Love the praise I get from doing anything for anyone because it means I did it well .

but love it mostly because I feel that love so deeply again and I really just want to share it with people, and see a smile on their face when they realise that I thought of them, because of course I do, but now I also think about myself too. I’ve worked really hard to find these bits of happiness so I’d like to keep working on finding more.