(no subject)
Well, here I am in life. Funny how the romantic days of writing in a physical journal are over. Who will find the countless pages of my personal thoughts, 200 years in the future, when they can all be erased with a click of the "deactivate" button on my account. All my thoughts - all the frailty and depression and heartbreak and rare happy moments I've recorded...gone! What's wrong with us that as humans, we just want to do things faster and faster - we don't want to take the time to sit with a pen and little blank book and take the second to contemplate our thoughts before we write them down. Maybe I should go back to that.
Maybe it's adulthood, but everything seems to have sped up. The lows feel lower, but the highs don't feel higher. I feel every day is some sort of a struggle, and I am constantly asking myself, why am I struggling so much? Why do I have to work so hard? For what? I don't have a good answer, other than that I'll don't want to wake up one day and have my life to suck MORE than it currently does, and if I let it slip right now, then that dread will become an eventuality. So, I push on.
I'm lonely and sad and heartbroken and tired. God, I'm so fucking tired. I wish I could have the crazy-exciting going out with friends to parties and such. But it feels like I grew up and out of that, involuntarily, when I left Aaron.
I realize I didn't write it in here, so here's what happened - the crazily abridged version, of course: Aaron had been acting weirdly for six months, and I knew something was awry (as you could read in my entries leading up to the wedding). He was spending nights at hotels or with Rob, acting frenetically, being a complete asshole, seeming to be jerking off when he was saying he was taking "naps." There were women's objects left around. And then, at the wedding, he was hardly present. Before it, he'd said he would stay with my family for a week, and then he only stayed with them for a day and stayed elsewhere the remainder of the time. He was noticeably missing at the wedding. He left me in a parking lot for half an hour while he "went to the bathroom" before we made our entrance. Our honeymoon was a disaster, and I tried to break up with him three times - once after he punched me twice on the arm. Punching someone on the arm doesn't seem like a big deal, the way it sounds, but he punch-punched me. It really hurt. I started sobbing. he left the hotel room (with the only key). The whole thing was a goddamn nightmare. He was so cruel as to be taking pictures of me when I was sobbing, saying it was beautiful. When we returned, he began acting extremely aggressive around my parents, too. And they were totally confused because they'd acted like parents to him. I filed for divorce October 4th, two days before my birthday. On my birthday, I woke up, knowing it was the day I would kill myself. I reached for my phone, to try and figure out how to do it, and instead texted my mother.
Later that day, I was seeing apartments (worst birthday on record, by the way), and racing back and forth through my head was the debate: it's either drugs or he's cheating. And then I had the ah-ha moment: He's a cocaine addict. I ran upstairs, to his desk, and found white powder. I went to his dresser and found white powder. I tried it; it was coke. Later, he confirmed it was to our mutual friend Kat. He first ghosted on me for a month, then begged to have me back. After so much research and spending time with specialists, it's very certain that he's a narcissist. Everything has been textbook narcissism. The women's objects were likely gaslighting and not real; the masturbating was 98% likely to be cocaine that he was doing under the blankets, when he said he was taking a nap. I'd thought it was all my fault; I blamed myself for all of it until I realized, and everything changed.
I have a new apartment, a new phone number (he disconnected my old one). He emptied our joint account.He's a horrible, horrible person. And yet, I love him so much because I had no idea what was going on and the change was so fast and he was such a conman. I cry every day. I've been on with suicide hotline more than I want to admit. I have a therapist now - the second one I've had, a narcissist-abuse specialist. I'm back on adderall because it helps me concentrate/cope. Every day is scary because I'm on my own and am in a tug of war, between being heartbroken and wanting to talk to him and have him lie to me and make everything better (even if temporarily); and knowing that he's a cruel son-of-a-bitch, who is NOT the person I thought he was, is very dangerous, punched me, has had over 20 people contact me to try and get information or trigger me. I'm so afraid of EVERYTHING.
I'm so lonely. I thought I'd never have to be on my own again, and here I am - more traumatized than I started out, older and less desirable, and with my identity slashed to shreds. I don't know who the fuck I am, and I don't want to try anymore. But still I push my barrow all the day.