Below is a ton of random emotions I couldnāt fit into any personal comics because they were too long. It is a vent, but not a dire one. I am doing so much better now. If youāre reading this, go take your meds or drink some water, or just do something good for yourself today <3
I donāt think I realised until basically now just how much damage emotional immaturity and projection actually does to a person. When my ex and I broke up, I started out thinking I was a massive asshole, so I tried to get evidence of what I did for therapy, but the more I searched the list of accusations they levelled against me against the messages that were actually sent, the more I realised that. No. They were the one who did that. Literally all of it was either stuff they legitimately made up completely out of the aether, or stuff that they did extensively. In some cases, I had actually said and done the exact opposite of what they said I did. And then I looked harder and realised that the times they attacked me worst and twisted my words the hardest were all around the times I had important grade-defining deadlines, or serious medical procedures, or was sick. I donāt think they did it intentionally, honestly I donāt, but it feels so weird to go into something thinking you were a monster only to come out of it realising that everything they accused you of was a confession on their part, and there was a really good reason that you started feeling 10x less suicidally depressed and started gaining weight the second they were gone.
Itās a really strange kind of abuse, to be painted as an aggressor, with a huge in-depth narrative to back it up, while the true aggressor looks you in the eye and enacts exactly the abuse theyāre weaving their web of lies from. Was I ever more than an object to them? Just a thing that they could project their own self-hatred onto? Were me, and my thoughts, and my feelings, and my opinions truly worth so little that they had to paste their own assumptions over my face and create an entire new narrative without me in it? I suppose I was always worth very little to them. Itās pretty obvious now. They didnāt even bother keeping track of my time zone, or my work life, or my schedule, or my current health status, or my other relationships, or really anything I was going through at the time. They didnāt bother to listen to anything I said; every single point I made during our million arguments were twisted to fuel their selfish self-hatred further. I wonder if they even remember the actual words I said, or if not even so much as a shadow of my actual self exists in their mind because their fictional version of me constructed entirely by their own self-loathing is taking my place and wearing my skin to boot. I shouldāve listened when my friends and family pointed out they were doing the worst of this specifically around important dates. I shouldāve told someone when my doctors and loved ones started asking why I hadnāt been eating or sleeping for months. I shouldāve listened to my alters instead of dissociating to escape what they were doing to me. I shouldāve noticed that I was always the one taking their health and schedule and important events into account before I even so much as opened my mouth. I shouldāve kept track of all those tiny personal insults, all those little comments they snuck into our arguments that I wilfully threw into our static headspace because theyād never hurt me. They say Iām the hurtful one, so it must be true and I must just be getting defensive and being manipulative and selfish. I stayed up so many nights wondering why my inner voices started calling me stupid and worthless every time I talked to them. To this day, phones buzzing make me nauseous. I have panic attacks at the sight of the discord logo. Even now I want to delete all of this, call myself the insensitive burden and retreat from all future relationships.
My friends keep telling me to stop clarifying my intent and overanalysing their messages, because, to quote one of them, āIām not going to just assume youāre evilā. My ex kept track of the punctuation marks I used. I lived every day in fear of doing a secret offensive thing, of not begging for enough forgiveness for existing to be considered polite and acceptable and not abusive. I physically flinched every time I sent a message. I would start trembling and hyperventilating if they took too long to reply, because what if Iād been a horrible, evil person again? What if I hadnāt been delicate and perfect enough? How many invisible sins did I commit this time? I canāt take much more of them bringing up and twisting all my previous faults as I try in vain to talk perfectly enough to make them stop. My heart rate and blood pressure physically couldnāt handle being called manipulative for my attempts at survival anymore. I passed out and had heart rate crises for hours every day toward the end. I hyperventilated so much and so often that my physiotherapist commented on my standard respiratory rate getting noticeably higher. I was so stubborn to stay with them even through all of this. If nothing else, I suppose Iām glad Iām loyal.
To end whatever this is, Iāll include a poem our beloved primary anxiety holder wrote about this a couple of weeks ago. Featuring a real human anatomy fact.
I keep catching myself doing these weird little things. Things I never used to do.
I apologise for everything. I fawn and placate everyone immediately if thereās so much as a tiny perceived hint that I might be about to do something wrong. I clarify my intent a thousand times per sentence. I feel sick when my phone buzzes. Every time I finish talking I physically brace as I wait for the other personās response.
I told myself you werenāt that bad. I keep etching into my brain excuse after excuse about how awful I was and how you didnāt mean any of it. How I deserved it. How I invited it into my life with my carelessness. But the human brain doesnāt have any nerve endings for pain.
No matter how deeply I carve into my own grey matter, my body canāt seem to forget.
I donāt know whoād want to read this, this is really just for catharsis and emotional processing. But thank you to anyone who does. I hope your day is as good as it can possibly be.
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