Last year, in about August, my baby's father and I decided to go our separate ways. It seemed pretty mutual - things hadn't been great for about a year, although we'd soldiered on and tried counselling and going on dates and all that.. But, in the end, we both felt as though we deserved more than we each could give, and so he moved out.
A few weeks later, I forced myself to stop moping and go out to a friend's party. I was standing inside, talking with a friend, and a guy next to me introduced himself. There was something endearing about the way he came right out and said it, it made me giggle. And from there, we became virtually inseparable.
After a week, we declared our love for each other. He said that he wanted me as his wife, that he wanted us to have siblings for my little girl. I couldn't believe that I'd been so lucky as to find the perfect person for me, someone who wanted everything that I wanted, and so soon after my last relationship had failed.
The timing was a bit off, a bit too soon. And I began to notice his insecurities, and how sometimes his manner with other people made me uncomfortable. That I felt criticised, unnecessarily and often. That the way he talked himself up made me cringe. But I made excuses - when he was insecure, I'd make extra effort to let him know I loved him. When he criticised me, I thought it would be good, that I'd keep myself at a high standard and not let myself slack off. That when he bragged about all manner of insignificant things, it was just his insecurities coming out, and that it was my place as his girlfriend to assure him of his worth, and, as always, that I loved him.
I finally broke it off last weekend. I was determined to wait until after his birthday on Thursday - I wanted to go about it with as much dignity and kindness as I could muster. After 9 months of being criticised, undermined, treated as a hobby, ignored, yelled at and told that I am too moody and too depressed, I have never in my life doubted myself as much as I do right now.
Well - slowly, slowly I'm doubting myself a little less. If I can choose what is best for myself and my darling girl, if I can see that we were being taken for granted and that I can do better for us, that gives me a little bit of respite. Even though, by some stupid law of nature that goes directly against any kind of logic, I feel as though my heart has been ripped out and torn to shreds. And then stomped on and eaten and puked out and stomped on again.
I'm not sure how long I'm going to feel like this, but it might be for a little while yet. In which case, I am going to record my own little "How to get over a broken heart" ideas. Just in case this sort of hideousness happens to me again, or in the event that the steps I'm taking will give somebody else a bit of respite from being stuck under the crappy Cloud of Love Gone Wrong.