Here I am, two years after breaking up with my Borderline disordered ex-girlfriend. I never imagined that I would make it; that sounds so crazy now. For the first six months, I was an absolute wreck. There was nothing I could do to get away from it. The breakup was like a barbed-wire thread that was needled through every part of my life.
I’d go to sleep at night replaying our relationship, the things she said and did, and the breakup over-and-over-and-over again. I’d wake up in the morning (or sometimes in the middle of the night, sweat-soaked) and continue ruminating. I was obsessed and trapped in painful cyclone of mixed emotions. Emotions that had no boundaries and ran together like different colored paints smeared on a canvas.
My emotions had no distinction. There was no love, hate, sad, happy, bad, or good. Everything was a paradox then. Good felt bad and bad felt worse. Happiness became flash-moments when I recognized the old me. I was perpetually depressed and shaken and teeming with anxiety.
Thinking back on those days now, they seem dreamlike. It feels as though I watched all of that happen to someone else; it certainly wasn’t me. It really wasn’t me. I am not that crumbling heap-of-a-person anymore. I cannot imagine ever being that person again. I am forever changed.
I know I will never give someone that much of myself again. That is both good and bad I suppose. I am still struggling to truly let go and let myself love another fully. I will never open myself up to that wall of hurt again. Maybe that will change with more time, but I’m still not there yet I suppose.
Nearly two years to the day now… My ex has little to no grip on me whatsoever. I have occasional thoughts about her, but they mostly come and go quickly. There is no pain associated with the thoughts of her. I have reached indifference, curious indifference.
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