Part Sixteen: A Promise Is A Comfort To A Fool


Confesh-sesh #19: No publicity is bad publicity…

Disclaimer: So it’s been brought to my attention that some people may have misinterpreted my blog… So lemme just clear it up. First things first… I am NOT still hung up on Mr A. Admittedly, I was for a VERY long time because what we had was real to me. It took a lot for me to reach the place that I’m at now because he really and truly did a number on me. I am not ashamed to say I was in love with him. And that’s no fault of mine or his for that matter. People always disappoint you but the main thing is picking yourself up and moving on.

I started this blog for other girls (and there are many) like myself, who gave and gave of themselves and were left heartbroken. I started by telling the entire story so everyone can understand where I came from and why I felt a certain way. Instead of people continuously telling me how dumb I was for being with him. They weren’t in the situation and neither were you but it has a purpose. The purpose being, I’m talking about MY experience, MY hurt, MY destruction and how I got up from it.

I have not at any point said anything derogatory nor inappropriate about Mr A, and everything thus far, has been nothing but events that did occur.

I like writing and like most writers, their inspiration comes from real life events and these events are MY real life events. I will not be the first nor last person who turns their hurt into something. It happened, might as well find the silver lining. And if just ONE girl can feel less alone through my writing then great because I was COMPLETELY alone going through my heartbreak.

I’m too deep in the story to just stop it anyway but we’re coming to the close.

Also, not that it is any of your business (clearly, this is directed to one person, who I know is reading my blog) I am very happy with my current boyfriend. He’s made me feel happiness like I’ve never known. I haven’t written much about him yet because I’m still in the middle of this story and writing two stories at once is messy and confusing.

PS. You of all people should have NO opinion on me and my life knowing the kind of person you are and what you did with Mr A while we were still together…but keep reading ‘cuz I like the views.

*    *    *    *

The great loves aren’t the easy ones. Maybe that’s what makes them so great…The blood, the sweat, the tears, the complete feeling of having your heart ripped out of your chest, then the feeling of all of that immediately healing, feeling your heart glue itself back together, feeling the absolute joy and happiness when things fall back into place. The tug of war. The constant uphill battle.

People don’t make movies or write books and songs about easy love. Every plot in every movie either starts with someone who was completely heartbroken and then finds love or two people falling madly in love and then getting separated before they somehow miraculously find their way back to each other. There are always obstacles, pain, complications…

The great loves aren’t the easy ones.

*    *    *    *

We’ve long established that I’m a nerd and I’ve been through my share of books but what most people don’t know is that in the past year I’ve basically looked at every single movie on Netflix. Every. Single. Movie. That happens to include every romantic comedy, every romance movie, action movies and others that aren’t relevant right now. There was no movie in which the couple was happy and perfect in their airy-fairy world for the entire movie. Life happened…As much as I believe movies are a bullshit way of getting us to believe that this ‘love’ thing is worth a try, I must say, they do try (poorly) to mimic real life. Unfortunately, for them to make their millions, the endings must end happily, and that my friends is where I come in to say, that’s the furthest from the truth in real life.

Image result for movie director cut gif

*    *    *    *

One of the greatest loves of all time was Romeo and Juliet. Centuries later and we still study this play. If there was a happy ending, their story too, might have faded into the pages of history. Why is it that we’re fascinated by things that are full of difficulties and heartache? Does it give us some kind of consolation that just maybe our lives don’t suck so badly? What is it about a forbidden or a painful romance that just draws us in?

Are the greatest loves just great tragedies with the same inevitable ending?

“Here’s what love is: a smoke made out of lovers’ sighs. When the smoke clears, love is a fire burning in your lover’s eyes. If you frustrate love, you get an ocean made out of lovers’ tears. What else is love? It’s a wise form of madness. It’s a sweet lozenge that you choke on.”

-William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

*    *    *    *

Personally, my favorite love story is Wuthering Heights. Catherine’s love for Heathcliff was all consuming, Heathcliff was more Catherine than she was herself but with her desire for wealth and status, she fucked it up . Is it true then, that we can love someone so much but still allow the pressures of the outside world to drive a wedge? Is it true that we can love someone more than we love ourselves but still care more of what the world perceives?
Heathcliff’s bitterness to everyone was a direct result of his hurt, the pain he was caused. It never thwarted his love. Years after her passing, he never let Catherine’s memory die. He went ‘mad’ without her. How is it we can love someone so much that hurt us that bad?

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

-Emile Brontë, Wuthering Heights

*    *    *    *

We’re addicted to hurt. We’re addicted to complicated. We’re addicted to tragedies.

*    *    *    *

You wouldn’t have read this much of this story had it been the perfect romance, had it had that happy ending. Y’all fuckers! It’s okay though, keep reading my tragedy!

*    *    *    *

Our relationship reached a rebirth. Mr A was a changed man. Of course, no one changes completely overnight but he had done pretty darn good. Things were finally looking up. Those butterflies I once had, returned in full swing.

It took a lot out of a perpetually angry person like Mr A to keep his temper under control and he was doing it. Kudos to him.

We reached a stage that we could both see things progressing. Our love was stronger than ever, we were on the same page and we both grew after our sessions. There was an unspoken sense of calm that surrounded the relationship. Is that what normal felt like?

*    *    *    *

Our therapist was a genius but the man could not perform miracles, and with time my bubble burst. Mr A’s and my fights decreased in frequency but they started taking on a new form…

*    *    *    *

Dominance…a tool I think every insecure man uses. I did mention Mr A’s insecurity that stemmed from God knows what and where, which still remained an unresolved issue. Mr A had not only been insecure with respect to our relationship but he was just insecure in general. He always needed control or to make himself feel superior or better for some reason. And the way he did this? By putting me down every chance he got.

 *    *    *    *

He spoke to me with the least respect, he’d get upset out of proportion to anything that happened and then the insults came. It started with my looks, my body, my academics and continued to just about anything he could say at the time. My spirit was broken.

The more he said things to me, the more I believed it. The more my confidence waned and the more I sought his approval in any and everything I did. I was a complete puppet on a string. He was a marionettist and I was his marionette. He pulled the strings, and I would dance to his rhythm.

*    *    *    *

I made every excuse for him to myself and to everyone else who saw him interact with me. I defended him and his actions. “She’s a REAL stupid girl.” Believe me, I’ve heard it all and I knew it deep down as well. I held on to our good moments. Mr A wasn’t always mean. We had good moments too and I clung to those, the moments where I caught glimpses of the man I knew he could be if he just loosened up. The man I tried to bring to the surface. I was the only one who believed he was still a good person beneath his cold exterior and I was the person he treated the worst.

*    *    *    *

I tried not to take the things Mr A said personally but the thoughts would play on my mind and I felt myself slipping. Pieces of my self esteem being shaved away…chunk by chunk. I’d repress parts of myself so as not to upset him, until I couldn’t even recognize who I was anymore.

*    *    *    *

I would have done anything for Mr A, and I think anyone who knew us, knew that. When I was around, Mr A never had to lift a finger. He’d sit on his throne and have his food cooked, taken out and brought to him, have his Mauby mixed and when he was done, his wares taken to the sink and washed. Anything he asked for I tried to facilitate. I made him and his needs a priority. I lost myself in him and it was never good enough.

*    *    *    *

Often times, I wonder what is the point of caring for someone and doing your best and loving so hard, accepting things we wouldn’t usually, making excuses when those said people just leave without a second thought, without a care for your sacrifices or the efforts made, without remorse? What is the point when you’re just left in a state of complete destruction picking up the tiny shards of your heart and trying to piece them back on your own? And then they move on with their life, like you never existed. Like they didn’t completely destroy you. It’s the not feeling even an ounce of remorse that gets me. Nothing else.

*    *    *    *

I should have known based on the stories of things he did to his exes. I literally started crying when he told me what he had done to one of his exes because I felt the hurt for her. I should have known that he was only capable of destruction. Someone like him can never genuinely love someone. It will always be about him. And love is when it stops being about you and it begins being about the other person. I ignored every sign, everything I believed. He promised it would have been different with me…

I believed him.

I chose to believe in the good. Light over darkness…

I continued giving of myself. I continued believing those promises, the promises that he’d never leave, the promises that he would have changed, the promises that it was going to be us against the world…

*    *    *    *

Then I made myself a promise…

I was going to fix his problems. I was going to make this work…