Archive for November, 2017|Monthly archive page

My Big Fat Life – Fields of Weeds *breaking up blog

In Uncategorized on November 17, 2017 at 3:23 pm

As of last night, I am no longer with him. I haven’t slept since yesterday morning and my eyes are swollen. I’ve cried a lot, begged for sleep to find me and thought a lot about the past two and a half years of my life.

When I met him, I truly thought I had found my life partner. I loved him and felt at ease with him in a way I had never experienced with a guy. At first it was amazing, and I wanted to share with the world this amazing love I had. It was immediately complicated by what would become a field of hurt that I tried to just work through because I do care, but honestly the past year I have spent trying to get my courage to just walk away. In fact, within an hour of him showing up at my place last night I was telling a friend that I wanted to just end it with him. Not because I didn’t love him, but because I realized he didn’t love me.

When we first started dating he told me with in the first few months that he has an ex that sometimes comes to stay with him, for no reason other than to come stay with him. She’s married, with a kid, and for some reason this is jive with everyone except me. I have had my trust tested before and I know enough that love doesn’t do that. It doesn’t put you in a position to prove your trust or test it, because it cares for what you are building and protects it. He knew my story and the hurt I had endured, hell it’s all on here. Yet he still threw that at me. I was honest with him and told him that was not something I could do and if he wanted to continue dating I needed him to not have her stay with him. He resented me for it, which again makes no sense because he always said he didn’t want her to stay and he didn’t care if he saw here again, he just wanted the option and it hurt to know he didn’t love me enough to just want to say “no” because he considered how it might make me feel. Hell, this should have never been brought to the table. He should have just brought it up if it came up, or just said no because he wanted to not hurt me. But that wasn’t the case.

The seeds of pointless plants sown next was the fact I wasn’t allowed to tell people we were dating. He said for privacy, but his public and private Facebook was littered with photos of his past lovers so it made no sense to me. I tried talking to him about it, because when you are faced with something like that, you tend to make assumptions whether right or wrong. I loved him enough to not want to assume and so I asked him why he posted no pics of us, or I wasn’t allowed to mention our relationship. Instead he got mad at me and told me I had no business looking at his old photos and I was deleted from his friends list on both Facebook profiles. When he saw I had mentioned we were dating he shot me a message on Skype that said “You sure like to tell people we are dating don’t you?” I had only mentioned it twice at that point, and beside why wouldn’t I? I loved him. I wanted the world to know.  I was hurt, and left with this feeling that I was somehow not pretty enough or as comparable to his past and that is why I was denied.

The weeds growing were reaching tower height. I became insecure and jealous of the women who were in constant communication with him, including his exes that he kept comparing me to with “I never had this problem with anyone else I dated.” He was so offended by my assumptions, but honestly up to that point did nothing to squash them. Instead he let them grow and shamed me for it. Over time I learned that it was better for me to let the shit grow instead of asking to pull it up by the root. It wasn’t unusual to get a day or two of silent treatment and accused of arguing when I would try to talk, because I was looking desperately for some validation; Some way to kill all of the stuff growing around me. He let this garden of weeds grow and then scoffed at me for wanting some flowers planted. Yet he didn’t see those women he dated before me were superficial romances he had, and of course there was no real life confrontations. Instead I was being compared to people who didn’t have the time and space invested we had, or I thought we had. How can I compare with a superficial short relationship that still has the waters of new to tread?

I am not claiming innocence here. I owned my part and always apologized for ruining his day, talking about it, or putting him in a bad mood. I would write it off as my hormones, and stress; anything that shifted it onto me so there would be peace because the peace was amazing. When he held me I felt safe, and loved.  When he held my hand he could tell me the sky was a lazy deep purple and I would believe him. When he put his arms around me and told me he loved me, I would shame myself for ever having doubted him and would melt into his words as they wrapped their way through my ear canals and into my soul. Nothing could touch that moment for me, not even doubt.

Over time those weeds kept growing, because we never really dealt with them. I would ask, he would push back, I would be ignored and then the process would start all over again with a few more weeds of doubt taking root each time. I was slowly becoming lost in the very space I was trying to dwell in, and supposed to nourish something beautiful.

Then the rejection. It was often that I would try to initiate advances, and he would not respond. Or, he would respond and the evening would end up with him pleasured, but no offer to help my body get where it was wanting to go. More weeds planted. I tried talking to him about it a few times, and of course it wasn’t something he responded to, because it never changed. I started to feel ugly, undesirable, ashamed of, and just not up to the standards of the other women he obviously openly adored. I was even being rejected in private. My insecurities grew and I would look for verbal affirmations just to hear something to help me forget the jungle growing at my feet. I wanted him to touch me, make love to me and help me forget for even a moment that as soon as he got up and left in the morning that the weeds would still be there. I remember one time telling him while sitting on his bed that sometimes I needed to hear him say something nice, like tell me I am pretty or that he appreciates me. But that was just a road to the fields of weeds, and there was no beaten path, just a road not traveled. And it sucks knowing that just a word here or there would have made all the difference in my world, and he just didn’t want to give it to me.

The weeds were planted with little jabs. One day when I was reading a story about this lady who got a “good morning beautiful” text, he responded to me with “Ah, maybe one day you’ll have that”. My heart sank because I knew he was telling me that it wouldn’t be him, and it never was. I tried talking to him about the passive jabs,  only to be left with the accusation of starting an argument and told to leave him alone, and after a day of the silent treatment I fell back into his graces again but with even more weeds of insecurity and hurt growing around my feet. In the beginning I could at least walk around it all and find some space that felt beautiful without tangles under my feet, but it’s become more and more difficult over time. The man I fell in love with became my pain, insecurity and tears that watered the mess I was left standing in.

I love him. That will take time to change, but god help me I love him. I’ve already grieved the loss of the love I thought we had months ago, yet I haven’t even been to bed because my eyes are swollen with pain from crying all night while my head is shouting every single promise he ever made to me. The last few years of investment and hope that he was a man of his word when he said he loved me, gone. Now I see he isn’t and it hurts more than what I imagine a million bee stings feel like.  I fell for everything he promised, and said. I hung his words of forever around my heart like a cloak and kept my hopes warm that somehow in the madness of this world, I had managed to find my prince. But for now, I just want the pain to stop. I want the sounds of his words to leave my mind and let me sleep. I want him to hug me and make me stop hurting. I want to be carried over this field of weeds into the Fields of Gold, with sun rays and flowers to where I feel loved, cherished and desired as he tells me I am pretty and he is proud that I am his woman. Reality is I look like shit and I’m lying in the bed where I can still smell him. I am between wanting to not sleep on this bed, and keeping the sheets here for a few more days so I can feel him around me as much as I can, or stripping the bed and burning the covers that quietly mock me as I lie here with nothing more than a loud ghost.

So many more moments that could have swept me away from the weeds, or even cleared it out, that contributed. So many more moments the realization became I wasn’t good enough for him and what he wanted, and he felt I was undeserving of his time and space. So many moments he could have apologized and owned his part in all of this, but didn’t and made me feel compelled to own it so I could absorb it for both of us in hopes he would invest in me. I was such a fool. I hate love. I hate it all. My heart just hurts.  Knowing he doesn’t care and likely never did, chokes me. I feel I was just used this past year especially for nothing more than a good story to tell the courts, and lay witness to his good character for everyone else but me.

I’ve waited a long, long time but I’m starting to believe the Fields of Gold is nothing more than a song I heard long ago. Fuck it.


My Big Fat Life – People Change  

In Uncategorized on November 1, 2017 at 3:40 am

People I used to believe were best for my life: 

People that only said the good things about me and tickle my ears with smiles.

People that would agree with me on everything.

People that made me feel good.

People that didn’t expect anything from me.

People that didn’t bother me, and wouldn’t try to find me.

People that didn’t mind that I was flighty, and often flighty themselves because there was nothing more exciting than the chase, catch, release, chase, catch, release, chase…

People that made everything feel “easy” and didn’t challenge me to do better.

People I’ve come to learn that are the most valuable in my life: 

People that make sure I get home okay.

People that are honest with me, even if it’s not something I want to hear but need to hear.

People that ask how my day is going.

People that value me. That’s not just applicable to significant others.  *bizarre fact – Someone once told me to find someone who values me when I decided to date, and I seriously had no idea what that meant or looked like. I had to Google it. Just in case you’re as lost as I was, here’s what it’s supposed to generally look like, but for friendship value I’m sure Google has that covered. I kinda disagree with the last sentence in #9. Sometimes we just don’t enjoy the other for whatever reason. Romantic love comes and goes in waves in relationships, and that last sentence boarders more on what I perceive as romantic love notions:


People that challenge me when things feel difficult and I just want to retreat, because they want to see me do better and they believe in me. 

People that encourage me.

People that are consistent.

People that look for me.

People that make me feel safe, protected, secure, stand up for me, and stand with me. 

I’ve been laying here looking at the ceiling thinking about my youth, and remembering how much I wanted to be loved and valued, and love and value. I never had that, and didn’t know what that looked like so I just moved on with life while living the definitions I had written myself. I believed that being loved and valued meant someone made you feel good all the time. They came when you wanted, and left when you were done. I didn’t understand at the time that the definition I had written myself out of ignorance and inexperience was in fact the furthest from what it’s supposed to read.

It’s wild how one moment can rewrite everything.