I Did a Thing


It isn’t a secret that I haven’t been feeling so great lately.

Yesterday, I decided to rectify this situation by making a string of some of the worst decisions I have ever made. The first was to call my ex. Wait, how did I get there? Let’s back up to Thursday afternoon.

She and I had class together. I then walked home in tears, not for the first time that week. I knew I would be sad for a long time, and that there was nothing I could do about it. Panic set it.

When I got home, I frantically “researched” how one gets over a breakup. Get rid of their belongings. Check. Make plans with friends. Check. Cut off all contact. Shit. Accept what has happened. Shit…

I have a habit of refusing to do anything halfway. If I was going to move on, I was going to move on TODAY. I sent my ex a “final” text. I told her that our relationship would always mean a lot to me. I said goodbye. I played a sad song and mourned for three minutes. I responded to my constant painful memories by thinking “That’s in the past. It’s over. It’s fine.” I allowed the pain to drown me with the passivity of a captain going down with his ship. If this was how I had to get over her, I would do it all day long.

On Friday, I left the house only to see my counselor and make a brief stop at the library. I ended up on a part of campus where I used to catch the bus to my ex’s house. This made me miss her more than ever. My overzealous resolve to move on had faded, and I again refused to accept that my relationship was over. This is when I decided to call her. I got her voicemail.

“I love you. I miss you. I miss your mom.”

“I know it’s all fucked up now, but we can fix it.”

“I can do things differently. We can do things differently.”

At least two minutes of foolishly hopeful remarks, punctuated by somewhat-restrained sobs. I thought it was beautiful. Obviously, she would realize that things weren’t over between us. She would drive to my house and hold me tightly and not let me go again.

Her texted response? “Our relationship is over. It’s done.”

Unwilling to accept this, I continued.

“You don’t know that.”

We went back and forth like this for a few minutes. She eventually threatened to block my number if this continued.

I don’t know if I ever explained why she broke up with me. I still don’t fully understand it. Apparently, she realized she needs/wants to be alone right now in order to “figure things out”. It’s a bullshit reason that makes absolutely no sense if you have somebody in your life that you love and/or care about. When she refused my pleas to just TRY with me for TWO SECONDS, I concluded that our entire relationship had been a lie and that she had never loved me. I felt like an idiot. A pathetic, heartbroken idiot.

I began to imagine the timeline of my life. My new revelation fit neatly into the uninterrupted sequence of lies. My childhood was spent being lied to by my parents. During my teen years, I was lied to by the church. In university, the lies came from an eating disorder. And just as I began feeling confident in my recovery, I met her. The next ten months were stolen from me as I was lied to yet again. Everything I thought I knew was ripped from me, and I didn’t feel like sticking around to find out who would lie to me next.

I will spare the details, but I took some pills.

And then I got scared. This wasn’t how I wanted things to end for me. I dialed 9-1-1 and packed a bag for the hospital.

Fast forward to a nurse telling me the treatment takes over 24 hours. Fast forward to puking repeatedly in an ER recycling bin. Fast forward to being woken up every couple of hours by a nurse, a psychiatrist, a resident-something and a who-knows-what. Taking blood. Checking vitals. Asking if I still had thoughts of hurting myself. Changing my IV bag. Telling me that what I did was dangerous, as if that wasn’t the point.

My roommate told my ex what happened, and she seems to think the two of us are making it up. “Worrying me is one of your hobbies,” she said. Kay.

I have been here for over 20 hours, and I have around 18 left to go. It is safe to say I feel like an idiot. I could have been feeling sad at home right now, with clean clothing and no hospital food. I have just as many problems as I had yesterday, only now I am having them in a shittier place.

I am not telling this story for attention. There is nothing cool about spending your weekend surrounded by elderly people getting dialysis and people in scrubs bitching about each other. There is nothing fun about wearing the same bra for three days because you are attached by the vein to a giant pole. If you are in crisis, contact your counselor. Reach out to supportive people in your life. If necessary, go to the ER before you do anything drastic.

And if you do decide to take a bunch of pills on a Friday night, don’t expect her to care. She never did, and she never will.



7 thoughts on “I Did a Thing

  1. Ya, recently had my heart broken; really fucked me up. Thought they were the love of my life. I genuinely don’t know if they ever really cared. I was suicidal for.. christ how long was that. I don’t know, 2 or 3 months. It still may happen, though I doubt it, but that heartbreak isn’t my problem anymore – its the realization of how minor my chances of finding a partner are.

    But the breakup. It sucks. Its fucking horrible. You’ll cry allot. You’ll be tormented by your dreams of the future that could have been, of the happiness you had, etc. Of how empty your life is now. You’ll try to repress the emotions, and move on, but they’ll remain to torment you. For me, what helped was indulging every single impulse to obsess over the past between us.

    Doing so allowed me to come to terms with the situation by realizing my mistakes, which had caused me to misinterpret our compatibility. I made a great deal. I realize I never should of loved them in the first place – that they genuinely lacked the traits which I fell in love with – most of it was in my head. Once I realized my mistakes, I developed perspectives that would prevent me from repeating them – comforting.

    I’d be lying if I said that love no longer exists, but I now know that it was never really for them. It was for a person I imagined them to be. Of course, I was genuinely the good guy in the situation; my mistakes were minor. I hate to say it, but perhaps you were the bad guy here. If you were, just face it, and commit to change – thats the only solution.

    That aside, enjoy the hospital. I know most people hate it, but theres something about it I like. I honestly don’t know what it is. Maybe its the cleanliness combined with the gravity of people’s conduct. Em.

    Liked by 1 person

    • “but I now know that it was never really for them. It was for a person I imagined them to be ”
      That’s probably true in my case, and it helps to think of it that way. Maybe I won’t stop being head over heels for the person I thought she was… but I can make peace with the fact that she’s gone by realizing that she isn’t that person. That seems like a more attainable step.

      I’m not a huge fan of the hospital, and last night in the ER was awful, but today hasn’t been too bad. I’ll be glad to get home, though.


      • Em, ya. Main point was that I had to go over everything that happened between us, slowly building up my evidence for why they weren’t for me. Was tough. I wanted to believe it would work. Very much blinded by love.


  2. Okay so first up, you’re absolutely beautiful. I hope that isn’t too bold to say. Your post is heartbreaking. Losing your “so called” soulmate is extremely painful, I know this. Throughout all the pain you’ve been going though, I’m so happy you chose life, it is absolutely worth it! The problem with this world is women are born with everything they need in life, it’s the world that tells them otherwise. I hope you’re okay Hun and I sincerely wish you the best, especially in your recovery (both physical and emotional). Sending you love from half way across the globe. =]

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Thank you so much for your comment. Haha I definitely don’t feel beautiful with my hair a mess, wearing the same shirt I wore on Friday. But thank you.


  4. I know how hard it is to deal with the pain. Your pain and my pain is most likely different but it is pain to you and to me notheless. You’ve survived what you think is the hardest part and you called for help. That’s a sign you are going to get better very soon. Something and someone way better is waiting for you, just ride though this for now. Hope you get your roomie to bring you better food!


    • Thank you so much. My lovely roommate did bring me coffee and donuts, and today I heading home to all the regular food my heart desires. And hopefully I do feel better soon. That’s the goal.

      Liked by 1 person

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