Day 2: It Settles In

I won’t stop now until I find a better part of me
That’s out there somewhere
and it can’t be that far away
that’s where I’ll find myself
and I’ll find my way out
That’s where I’ll find out

– 3 Doors Down (The Real Life)

Well, I thought once in a while I’d recollect my thoughts on everything that has been happening since I left, what I thought were the comforts of home, for the basement of my parents rental home. Those who don’t know, I broke up with the man who I thought was going to become my entire life. We had been together for 2.5 years, and today is his birthday, and perhaps I’m feeling more unsettled because of the guilt that I left him just days before his birthday. Although, as a side note, the entire break up happened near the end of July, but due to circumstances on both our parts we were forced to live together in the same apartment for a month and a few days until I was able to leave.

My entire world has been flipped upside down. Three years ago I moved to Edmonton with great hopes and expectations of being able to do things. I moved into a lovely apartment with decent rent, and my parents were awesome and managed to get me a lot of great stuff to get me started from a guy who was looking to get rid of practically his entire livelihood which was in a storage locker, his words: either I give it away or pay another month’s rent on it. You know which choice he made. Needless to say I had everything, and was trying my very best to make things work with what I didn’t have.

I’m going to call this guy “Iz”. Iz and I were the kind of relationship that ran quickly through all the phases and I blame myself primarily because instead of allowing things to progress slowly I was letting him take advantage of me. I’m a good person, and I have a lot of trouble saying no – to anybody! So, obviously, it’s like adding kindling to the flame and eventually it turned out he was staying with me, even when I was living in Residence, more often than he was staying in his own place. This is a sure sign that things are either going really well or are going to go horribly wrong. I still wasn’t sure which we were at the time. When I lived in Residence he gave me butterflies, I sacrificed a lot and maybe that should’ve been my sign that things weren’t going well.

He criticized me on who I was, eventually. This was about six months into the relationship. Basically the “Honeymoon” Phase was done, apparently so was all his niceties of helping out with cooking, complimenting, and staring into my eyes while playing old school boy-band love songs were too. Iz lacked complete appreciation for everything and anything I ever did. I blamed it on things like “culture clash” or because I was his first real relationship (I knew I was) and he didn’t know what to do in situations, but I seemed to had veiled myself from the truth and while others around me had suspicions I played the fool in love. I denied any problems from the get go, and prayed that things would change.

We used to argue a lot. Actually a lot would be an understatement, I was the abused and he was very kind to deliver all the “punches”. I took a lot of mental and emotional abuse. When he started insulting my body’s appearance (I was heavier and my FF (freshman fifteen) was turning into more), and when I would try to make a more conscience effort, I just couldn’t handle it. Between stress of school and his verbal abuse the weight stayed and apparently I was still in denial.

It took a year and some months, before I finally made him realize how much damage our arguing was inflicting our relationship. He almost seemed to have an epiphany. The first real look on his face that seemed to smooth out all the lines on his face, it was a breath of fresh air. I was relieved, but we’ve had other conversations and promises and compromises are made and as soon as something wasn’t upheld to the greatest of satisfaction the thin line everybody walked on would snap and the only person who would go off about things was him. Needless to say the compromises didn’t last long and it was my fault for letting it happen. I think that time I was blamed for ruining a recipe. He didn’t like it, even though I was asking him for help to ensure the flavors were right to his satisfaction, but he just wouldn’t budge. So the meal was ruined.

Fast forward a few later…

Six months ago I started reconnecting with an old high school friend; San. We had friends in common and sometimes hung out outside of school, actually he was probably one of the only guys I ever hung out with out of school. We had disconnected a bit when Iz saw a text in my phone from San who was complimenting me on the how good I looked in a FB picture (I had finally lost some weight, and was showing off my progress). San used a few explicit words and what not and I knew he meant nothing by it except for complimenting me. When Iz read it he became furious, and couldn’t understand why I hadn’t told this friend where to put his foul language or why I hadn’t told Iz about this text in the first place. Needless to say in the end I sent this “very unlike me” text back to my friend that I couldn’t talk to him anymore if he was to continue talking to me in such a manner. I felt dreadful. It’s hard to explain why, but it’s probably because the guy and I never had a history and I knew him, and I knew he didn’t mean it in a derogatory manner, but I couldn’t get Iz to understand that. Iz didn’t talk to me for a while after that. After the incident the longer I thought about what I wrote to San the more guilty I became , eventually I was constantly waiting for him to log-on to Facebook.

I know these days FB has allowed us to see a slight time-stamp of how long a person has since logged on. I didn’t want to just leave this guy a message, I wanted to make sure there was dialogue; a conversation. I finally had my chance. I sent him a message expressing my guilt for the text message I sent him nearly a month prior. Fortunately, he’s not the grunge holding type and although didn’t understand why Iz was doing these things to me that he was doing, he became my sounding board and I was becoming needy with the constant urge to have somebody to talk to. I finally had somebody to talk to! Iz and I never spoke. He always said I had nothing good or useful to talk about, and when there was something good to talk about he would easily get bored and ask me to be quiet. So talking to San was important. To the point where I was trying to do it as often as possible; like an addict.

Disclosure became huge. There were a lot of things that I never told people that I told San. San and I shared a lot of things about upbringing, family and our life, and aspirations. We were comfortable to talk about anything with each other. I never felt judged, and that feeling felt amazing. Once spring/summer rolled around, so did Mother’s Day, and I decided to make a surprise drive to see my mother. Although I did go see her, I also hung out with San. After months of talking to him over Skype and through text messages it felt awesome to see him in person again! For the few times we’d seen each other while he was attending school in Edmonton, it all felt so right to see him again. We stayed out late in the night until he was long passed his curfew, we did that a few times that same weekend until I had to go back to reality.

I made this trip once or twice more before I dropped the “Breakup Bomb” with Iz. Not because of San or anybody else but because I spent 4-5 hours, sitting in my parents empty house (they were in British Columbia), hanging out with San and his best friend and I realized how much of what  I was missing in Edmonton, in that tiny apartment with my cat and Iz. My face hurt for nearly an hour after they left because I had laughed and smiled so much those few nights. I felt good, and I knew that feeling wasn’t coming back by me going back to Iz.

Forwarding a few weeks…

I originally kicked Iz out. Just packed all his stuff and left it out in the hall way of our apartment building. I was scared and anxious and needless to say he wound up still coming back into the apartment. The me-moving part was an after thought. He had no where else to go and I (kind of) did. I dropped the whole “I’m-moving-back-to-Fort-Mac” bomb hoping to make him believe that he couldn’t stay in the apartment. In the end, things were negotiated and I really was moving back to Fort Mac. The month long roommate arrangement was terrible and I was terrified that I was going to go back on my word.

Things didn’t go off the rails and after a few trips back and forth between Edmonton and Fort McMurray to deliver my possessions, I finally made the last trip this weekend. I finished my contract with a company and left after work and made the 4 hours drive to what was my temporary future. I’m currently sitting on my bed and trying to figure out what I’m going to do with myself and how long I’ll be living under my parents roof (again). I am currently making a plan, my first step is to find work. I have sent several resumés out but with little avail to call-backs. I’m still hunting, even at this moment I have a few tabs open on my browser of job searching websites. I want to go back to school, but with the idea I have in mind I need to find the right school to accommodate. I intend on making an appointment with a counselor at the local college, in hopes he or she can help me dwindle down my options. I’m hoping my timeline for being here is 1 year. A year to save money and get my registration stuff done for school. I don’t want to be a burden on my parents life any longer than I have to.

I’m sorry this post became so long, I have a feeling there will be several similar lengthy posts in the future as I try to express the happenings in my life at the moment.  I have a whole month of San being away and I am going to be working a lot on myself and “finding” myself.

Here’s to Labour Day weekend! Have a good one everybody,



6 thoughts on “Day 2: It Settles In

    • I read somewhere that a way to recover from what I’m going through is to write about it. Unfortunately when I write privately it seems to disappear. I could, of course, make all my posts private, but in all honesty nobody really knows me so what are the chances that anybody will know of the people I give pseudonyms to? It’s slim.
      I’ve realized that the writing has become therapeutic, but I’m definitely still censoring myself. I’m not sure if it’ll stay like that or if I’ll delve further into my life these 2.5 years as I get better, but we’ll see, only time will tell.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s