“You said I was your soulmate. Soulmates don’t just leave each other hanging for a month.”
I was raised on Disney princesses, signs of something greater, fate, and love at first sight. The day that my prince charming came along is what I always hoped for and dreamed of. C took my breath away and I was convinced he was my soulmate, we were so alike. When we were happy, it was passion that nothing else could match up to. When we finally managed to make our relationship official, after all the incidents over the years that he convinced me were due to “bad timing,” it felt like you couldn’t possibly deny we were meant to be together. We had conversations about it. He reinforced the idea on multiple occasions though I don’t think he ever really bought into it. I’m not sure he ever really bought into love at all. He was shocked the first time I told him I loved him, like it was impossible that I could really feel that strongly about him. The concept of “soulmate” turned out to be a manipulation tool that he used to keep me from leaving him behind. He knew I didn’t want to let him go so he knew he could keep coming back when it suited him. That tool is what became the nail in the coffin.
I’m not proud of how it went down in the end. In a normal relationship it would have been immature and shitty and I hate that I had to stoop so low, but I believe it was the only way it could have happened successfully in this case. I wanted my fucking life back and there was no way a civil break up conversation was going to happen. I had already tried a few weekends before and it resulted in me feeling so lost and angry at everyone but him. His manipulation made me believe my family didn’t care about us, that they would only be happy to see us end, and that they were the only thing causing our problems at the time. In reality they saw the relationship better than I did. They only wanted what was best for me but I didn’t want to let them “win” so I gave up my resolve and less than a day later we were back on.
We weren’t able to see each other the weekend that the break up stuck. Instead of sitting around depressed and lonely like I usually did when we weren’t together, I invited a friend over to drink, talk, and generally goof off. We were having so much fun that things ran past the hour of the night that C had previously deemed inappropriate for such things. I was beyond caring about his rules at this point and quite honestly looking for any way out so I was in no hurry to send my friend on their way. When C found out he decided to try and fill my time with needy text messages to keep my attention away from my friend. He got offended if I took more than a couple minutes to reply and the questioning and accusations started. At first I tried to assure him nothing was happening, I could still be loyal to him while with friends no matter what time it was or if there was alcohol involved, but it was heading into major argumentative territory. I didn’t want my fun completely ruined so I stopped responding to C’s texts. He started raging at me trying to get me to tell my friend to leave. He called me a few times but I didn’t answer. I sat there laughing with my friend at what was going on but my heart was pounding and I felt sick. Finally came the threat, “Call me now or we are done!” and when he realized I wasn’t going to, “FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU YOU’RE DEAD TO ME.” After a little while, I picked up my phone and texted “does this mean we are done?” I was scared that it would get worse somehow if I didn’t give it confirmation. “I guess so” was his reply and it was all I needed. I broke down and sobbed in my friends arms because it was finally fucking over. I felt strong enough to keep holding my ground but it still hurt so much that it had come to this.
I felt comfortably numb for awhile after that night. It was a relief that helped to keep me from falling back into the relationship. It was such a contrast from all the anxiety and panicking that was being non stop induced from the up and down and never knowing what to expect. I felt like I could breathe again. Halloween was coming up and I went on autopilot focusing on my daughter and my costume. After about a month it started to wear off and I knew I needed to start processing everything. I was feeling the withdrawal of not talking to him or seeing him. I got curious about what he was up to, but not wanting to contact him, I checked his social media. The ‘relationship status’ that had been set to single for the last few weeks was now hidden completely. I had a feeling that this probably meant he was seeing someone new.
I knew it was better this way. I knew I never wanted to go back. I knew it was all wrong and that there was nothing left to be gained except more heartbreak. I was like moth to the flame though and decided to reach out one more time. I don’t know what I really expected. I think most of me just wanted to hear it from his mouth that he had moved on so quickly.
He was soft spoken and almost sounded regretful to say that yes, he was in a new relationship. I can only guess that perhaps deep down he did feel shame for the absurdity of the situation. He blamed me of course. I pushed him into it. What else could he possibly do when I wouldn’t talk to him or comfort his pain? Never mind that he had replaced me in less than a month, soulmates didn’t do what I did. I was wrong, as I always was, for the time my wrecked heart and mind took to reboot and want to acknowledge him again. He didn’t need me or want me anymore.
It felt like a knife in my gut, but it was a blessing in disguise. This person I had spent the better part of a decade loving unconditionally was proving to me how little I was worth. I shoved it all down because I wanted to show how brave I was, how done I was. I wouldn’t allow myself to entertain the fact that I still loved him. I just had to get rid of all the reminders and good memories, tell people how stupid it all was and how much of an asshole he really was, and I would be fine.
I had read bits and pieces of what abusive relationships were and how much of it he fit but I neglected to find the knowledge to arm myself for the battle that comes after you leave. I know now it is completely normal to love an abuser during and after. By the time the abuse is in full swing you’re already in too deep. Chemistry is an addiction that is hard to shake but I never wanted to accept that I could still love someone who hurt me like he did. I thought I knew better than that just by being able to identify what he really was. I couldn’t see how much damage he had actually done to me, and his parting words just solidified to me that I was wrong for loving him at all. Maybe I didn’t really love him in the first place and it was nothing more than a fantasy I created in my head. It was easy to say I was over it because I’d gotten away and wasn’t going to look back.
Over the years I’ve been quick to shut down questioning ‘why?’ thoughts or happy memories. I would tell myself I couldn’t think about those things because they meant nothing now. I have better things now. There is no changing anything and I’ll never get the answers to those questions. Thinking about any of it will only set me up for failure. I acknowledge the lessons learned, I talk about the wounds I see, and that is enough. Of course, there is truth to those things, but that’s not how this really works when you ignore the complexity underneath.
From the beginning of our on again/off again mess to now, I have had vivid dreams about him. They don’t happen often but they are always able to evoke distressing feelings that can last days or weeks. The content is always the same; Love, longing, relief to be near him, him telling me he loves me and always has. When I still wanted to be near him, I would wake up crying, hating whatever was keeping us apart, cursing the universe for never letting me rest when I couldn’t be with him. After the end of our relationship, I would wake up angry and wanting to take revenge over everything he ruined in me. Sometime last year it changed to a kind of resigned contentment but it felt wrong to feel that way. I worried it meant some small part of me still wanted him in my life and I would end up spiraling into some sort of awful place again.
I was stressed out over all sorts of other life dealings but was finding peace in facing them so I found a new strength to face this. I saw that I was feeling the echos of all the things I hadn’t let myself feel before now, the love and sadness left over from something that didn’t work the way I had envisioned. I didn’t have a clue what a healthy relationship looked like but I knew what it meant to want to try to have a happy lasting life with someone. It wasn’t a fairy tale and he wasn’t my prince charming, but the idea was sure as hell real to my naivety back then. I loved him every way I knew how and it didn’t just go away the second I decided finally that it wasn’t worth losing myself for. I saw that no, I don’t want him back in my life, but there is no switch to turn off the fuzzy feelings that good times brought, even if they get buried by the bad for a time.
Giving it attention in my head doesn’t mean I’m weak or wrong. I’m not scared anymore to let thoughts bubble up. I see them and roll them around. I feel what they give, separating the past from present, and knowing the reality that even feelings and experiences like that don’t automatically mean happy endings. For every one that I acknowledge or ponder over and naturally let fade, I am another step closer to feeling free.
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