***Trigger warning: suicidal thoughts***
I have finally stopped sobbing for long enough to attempt an actual blog post (sorry, upstairs neighbours). For anyone who isn’t aware, my girlfriend broke up with me two days ago. And I have been a mess ever since.
If you’ve read my previous few posts, you’ll know that my girlfriend and I were having issues. We were even considering the possibility of breaking up. But I didn’t really believe that it would happen. And I had no idea that it would go down the way it did.
My girlfriend and I hadn’t spoken much all week, which was very unusual for us. Earlier in the week, I began distancing myself in an effort of self-protection in case we did break up. But by Thursday, I decided that I needed my girlfriend and that I wanted more than anything to stay together. I missed her so terribly after just 3 days of reduced communication. I felt lonely and overburdened and exhausted. I was ready for things to return to normal.
My girlfriend told me that we would work things out. So it did not even occur to me that SHE would break up with ME. As soon as I decided that I wanted our relationship to continue, I thought everything would be alright. We chose a day (Friday) to discuss our problems, because I like to procrastinate serious conversations, and I didn’t want to risk becoming seriously upset in the middle of the work week. I was looking forward to getting this conversation over with, and continuing our relationship as usual.
I typed out the points I wanted to make. These included aspects of the relationship I wanted to see changed. I had my sheet of paper, and was ready for our conversation. My girlfriend picked me up from work Friday, and after I put my work things away, we began our discussion. I suggested that I go first, because I had my points prepared. My girlfriend allowed this. I still don’t understand why. I ran through my five points quickly; her response was to nod and say “that all makes sense”. I told her to make her points. She said she only had one. Maybe I should have knows at that point, but I still had no idea.
She said “I’ve been thinking a lot, and I think I just need to be alone right now.”
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. But I still didn’t believe it. I asked “To what extent? Like, you want to spend less time together, or you don’t want to be in a relationship?”
“Like, I don’t want to be in a relationship.”
I started hyperventilating. Tears began pouring down my cheeks. I felt incredibly angry. Where had this come from? I still managed to maintain a sliver of denial.
“So, just to clarify, you’re breaking up with me?”
“Alright, well you can take your things and get out.”
She walked around the room collecting her belongings, while my sobbing grew louder and my hyperventilating made it difficult to breathe. She asked if I needed anything. I gestured a no, while rummaging desperately for my Ativan. I wanted her out.
When she finally left, I cried louder still, while I called my best friend. The Ativan blurs my memory at this point, but eventually found myself on the phone with a crisis line. I talked to some guy for a little while. At one point, I told him I liked watching documentaries, and he said he once watched a documentary about Mushrooms that he enjoyed. I told him that sounded incredibly boring. He offered to send one of their crisis teams to make sure I was okay. I didn’t have any other plans, so I agreed.
The Crisis Team showed up sometime later. There was a woman who presumably had some sort of mental health qualifications, and a male police officer, who had a firearm for some reason. I live in Canada, so seeing a gun is an infrequent and frightening event for me. And I have always been afraid of police officers. I still don’t understand why the officer would need a firearm to stop people from committing suicide. If anything, a gun would only help with that aim. But I digress.
The team eventually told me that they didn’t think it was safe for me to spend the night alone (my roommate was visiting her parents in Sudbury), so they gave me the option of spending the night with a friend or family member, or going to a crisis centre or hospital. It was my understanding that if I refrained from self-harming or taking any pills before the crisis team arrived, then they couldn’t force me to go anywhere. Oops. I was not about to tell me family I was a suicide risk, and I’m currently running a little low in the friends department. My roommate’s boyfriend ended up agreeing to spend the night. It definitely did not make me feel pathetic in the slightest that he’s the only person I could think of contacting.
Eventually, Kyle showed up, and the gun-toting crisis team left. I ate my last weed cupcake, took some melatonin, and passed out.
Saturday was its own adventure, as has been the 3 hours I’ve been awake so far today. But that’s all I feel like writing on this topic currently. I know that this is “just a breakup”, but honestly, I am in unbearable pain and my will to live is currently inconsistent. I can see a future where I feel better, and I know to get to a hospital if I’m in acute danger, but this is so incredibly shitty.
I hope everyone out there is doing okay. If not, we can be miserable together.