“No one will ever know you like I do.”
A few weeks ago, I was feeling anxious and bad for no reason other than the chemical bubble that exists in my head, which causes my depression and anxiety.
Because of this bubble, I did something impulsive and self-harming.
I went and read the tweets of my ex-boyfriend and one-time big love of my life.
His name is Greg, and when we met I knew within seconds that we were going to get married and spend our lives together.
It didn’t matter that Greg was living with his girlfriend of nine years at the time.
It didn’t matter that I’d caught Greg in this lie when we met on an internet dating site.
Sure, the circumstances were less than ideal, but doesn’t every great romance have its fair share of obstacles?
I won’t say that I was stupid, but I will say that I was desperate to be loved and that Greg smelled this desperation from a mile away. Our relationship wasn’t the longest one of my life, but it was definitely the most emotionally abusive.
I’m a smart woman, but being smart doesn’t mean anything when you’re dealing with an abuser.
I confessed to him early on that I’d overcome a problem with telling white lies I had a kid (which it turns out is pretty normal). He would use this against me, calling me the biggest liar he had ever known, when it didn’t really matter at all. Like when I told him the candy bar I’d bought him was a little bit less expensive than it actually was.
He was the one cheating on his partner of a decade, but I was the liar.
Somehow, it made sense.