Loss Comes in Threes
The first week was the hardest. The days dragged on at a pace I had never experienced before. Sleeping felt like a chore, and going from one extreme to the next made it impossible to focus on anything other than what had just happened. My heart hurt and I didn't know if I could ever forgive myself for the tremendous amount of anguish I put someone through recently. Some made excuses for me saying that I had a hard life, which made it okay to lose control every once in a while, or that I had handled things way better than they ever could. But truthfully, that was not the case. I was very good at persuading people to be on my side; to think I was strong and in control of my life. I had never really been honest about what this disease had done to me because that would be admitting I needed help. That was no excuse, though, for the actions I had taken to hurt people I loved so dearly. When I finally felt content with my life, that was when I tended to screw things up and made my biggest mistakes. When I picked fights that went too far and thought I was going to lose someone, I got scared and tried to fix things. But my immediate fix-it actions were what drove those people away even more.
I know I messed up. I wasn't honestly willing to admit so until I had driven away a third person that meant everything to me. That was when I knew I needed to take a step back and question why I did the things that I did. During the last five years, two people I loved walked away from me. I tried so hard to figure out what was wrong with them instead of what was wrong with me. When I finished picking apart everything I thought they did wrong, it wasn't long before my subconscious turned on me and I put all the blame on myself. I did that a lot growing up. I did everything I could to be the opposite of who I was during those friendships. I turned my back on everyone, never asking for help and only depended on myself. I didn't think I needed anyone's help. My theory was that I would never get hurt again as long as I never became too dependent on other people, because when I was, and they left, I felt like I had nothing else to live for. It took me three years to finally get one of those friendships back. And even though we are friends again I find myself being very cautious of what I do or say around her to prevent the shattering of our friendship for a third time.
When I was in junior high and high school and my brother used to hit and verbally attack me, I hated everything about myself because he drove me to think I had so many things wrong. So often do we let the abuser win. I hated my appearance and my actions. I was paranoid. I thought everyone was out to get me. When I got some of the same comments from other people that matched those of my brother's, I thought there was definitely something wrong with me. I figured if everyone felt that way toward me then I didn't need to be here, this world would be a better place without me. And when I was diagnosed with cancer, the combination of the two took control over my life. I started hating more about myself and felt like I deserved this pain for the terrible person I had become. I wanted so badly to believe that I had a right to be depressed and angry at my situation and that Ichose to be that way. I convinced everyone, and myself, that if I truly did not want to be mad at the circumstances I had been given then I could easily stop. However, I recently came to realize this was much bigger than I led on...
I always had this picture of the perfect guy I wanted to be with; he would be a Christian, loves the outdoors, hard working, likes sports, loves music, loves to cook, a family man, makes me laugh, can admit when he's wrong, accepts my flaws, loving, athletic, intelligent, honest, romantic, open, kind, loyal, goal oriented, protective, and patient. But what guy would have every single one of those qualities? He does not exist. And even if there were a guy out there that fit my exact description, there would still be certain things I would not like about him. Because love is not perfect. It is the imperfectness that makes life real and fulfilling. Those are the things you continue to work on. Those are the things you can laugh at. What I had was way beyond what I thought I wanted for myself.
He cared about me long before I ever really noticed him for more than just a guy in my class. I can still remember times from last spring when I would come to class in pain and all he wanted to do was make sure I was okay. The way he looked at me during the following months confirmed just how he really felt about me. Over and over again I tried to convince myself, and others, that nothing was ever going to happen between us. But when I let my guard down and finally opened up to him and exchanged stories, I knew I was only kidding myself. He earned my trust, which can be very hard to do.
The beginnings of relationships are always the best. You get butterflies in your stomach, you can't stop thinking about them, you bring them up in everyday conversations when you are with your friends. It's new and fun. But as time goes on you get to see who they really are. And in my case, you wouldn't want to know who I really was. I got mad at the people I loved most, and even though I try hard not to, sometimes I still do. If I knew the reason why, I would let you all know right now, but I don't. When enough bad things happen in a relationship it becomes hard to pick out the good times. He said he would never leave me and I took that for granted thinking that no matter what I did he would never leave, but a person can only take so much. I had pushed it too far and lost my best friend.
I never thought I would see the look on his face he gave me the evening things ended. It was cold and heartless like he had never loved me during those previous months. All of the bad moments and negativity came shooting out of his mouth, things he had been keeping to himself for a long time. At that moment I was completely wounded by the hurt he felt he needed to lay upon me. But after some time had passed, I knew I had made him feel the exact same way many times before.
It wasn't all bad. I know he brought out the best in me. He taught me not to take life so seriously, even though I did most of the time. The good moments we had together are all that I can hold on to in hope that we might get them back again someday; eight-hour Facebook chats, walking the beach at night, sneaking off from class so no one would see us kiss, stealing me away to get me alone, shocked when we found out some of the things we had in common, laughing when we repeatedly said the same things at the same time, smiley faces, saying "miss u" after teasing each other, listening to the noises my "imaginary" neighbors made, applauding ourselves for a dirty joke, making racist jokes with my friends, our little sayings rubbing off on each other, laughing during awkward times, car accidents and running stop signs, seeing Christmas lights and having glitter fights, making holes in the wall and horseback riding, "to-do" lists, making pancakes, laughing and whimpering while freezing on the parade route, bailing and sleeping in the car, the way he could look at me and make me feel like I was the only girl alive, taking him places he had never been and getting to see the look on his face when he did something for the first time, and watching him interact with his family in a way that was so foreign to the dynamic of how my family spends time together, but so refreshing to see how much they all really care about each other.
I tried looking through my journals and emails to see just where things went wrong, but the truth was things went wrong a long time ago. Only in my journals did I admit and own up to how merciless I acted at times. I found myself incredibly sorry and embarrassed for my foolish behavior, and surprised that he hadn't ended things sooner. Our fights were pointless and ninety-nine percent of the time my fault. I ruined days that were supposed to be special and lied about things I didn't want anyone knowing. In emails and text messages I read things like, "I'll never stop loving you," and "I don't wanna take some time off. I want to be with you." This just made things harder because I was sure he meant those words. But the damage had already been done, and I lost someone that I cared for very much. Initially, I made a long list of all the things I needed to fix and change about myself, but knew after a week or so of trying on my own that I would most likely be back to my old ways.
My sadness led to anger, my anger hurt the people around me, and when I hurt those people I felt completely shameful. I had them constantly worrying if I was going to do harmful things to myself, which no one should have to feel responsible for. I could easily tell them that it wouldn't happen again, which I had, but they stopped believing me. I stopped believing me. That was how I knew I needed help. And for the first time I was honest with my friends and my doctors about those constant thoughts of hate toward myself, and my life, and finally allowed myself to get help.
I would like to say that I got better right away, but it has been much harder than I thought. I do a lot of exercises and meditation that allow me to be in control of my thoughts and emotions. I finally let my doctor prescribe a medication that helps with the depression. There are still things I have to learn. It’s going to be a trial and error way of living, but that is the only way I will learn what works for me and what doesn't. After being stable with bone cancer for two years and feeling like I would be stuck like this forever, I finally feel like I am mentally on the path to recovery.
I never thought this was the way things would go. I know we both feel that way. On our first date he looked at me and asked, “Why me?” But with all the turmoil I put him through, that question was constantly on my mind. With the tainted friendships I lost before, I thought I would have learned from my mistakes. I thought I could change things by telling myself I would be different. Now I know better. I would like to say I was only doing this for myself, but it is much more than that. I still love him very much and would do anything to repair and erase the bad memories of the past few months. I am not sure if this will change things, but like he said, "Only time will tell."
I know I messed up. I wasn't honestly willing to admit so until I had driven away a third person that meant everything to me. That was when I knew I needed to take a step back and question why I did the things that I did. During the last five years, two people I loved walked away from me. I tried so hard to figure out what was wrong with them instead of what was wrong with me. When I finished picking apart everything I thought they did wrong, it wasn't long before my subconscious turned on me and I put all the blame on myself. I did that a lot growing up. I did everything I could to be the opposite of who I was during those friendships. I turned my back on everyone, never asking for help and only depended on myself. I didn't think I needed anyone's help. My theory was that I would never get hurt again as long as I never became too dependent on other people, because when I was, and they left, I felt like I had nothing else to live for. It took me three years to finally get one of those friendships back. And even though we are friends again I find myself being very cautious of what I do or say around her to prevent the shattering of our friendship for a third time.
When I was in junior high and high school and my brother used to hit and verbally attack me, I hated everything about myself because he drove me to think I had so many things wrong. So often do we let the abuser win. I hated my appearance and my actions. I was paranoid. I thought everyone was out to get me. When I got some of the same comments from other people that matched those of my brother's, I thought there was definitely something wrong with me. I figured if everyone felt that way toward me then I didn't need to be here, this world would be a better place without me. And when I was diagnosed with cancer, the combination of the two took control over my life. I started hating more about myself and felt like I deserved this pain for the terrible person I had become. I wanted so badly to believe that I had a right to be depressed and angry at my situation and that Ichose to be that way. I convinced everyone, and myself, that if I truly did not want to be mad at the circumstances I had been given then I could easily stop. However, I recently came to realize this was much bigger than I led on...
I always had this picture of the perfect guy I wanted to be with; he would be a Christian, loves the outdoors, hard working, likes sports, loves music, loves to cook, a family man, makes me laugh, can admit when he's wrong, accepts my flaws, loving, athletic, intelligent, honest, romantic, open, kind, loyal, goal oriented, protective, and patient. But what guy would have every single one of those qualities? He does not exist. And even if there were a guy out there that fit my exact description, there would still be certain things I would not like about him. Because love is not perfect. It is the imperfectness that makes life real and fulfilling. Those are the things you continue to work on. Those are the things you can laugh at. What I had was way beyond what I thought I wanted for myself.
He cared about me long before I ever really noticed him for more than just a guy in my class. I can still remember times from last spring when I would come to class in pain and all he wanted to do was make sure I was okay. The way he looked at me during the following months confirmed just how he really felt about me. Over and over again I tried to convince myself, and others, that nothing was ever going to happen between us. But when I let my guard down and finally opened up to him and exchanged stories, I knew I was only kidding myself. He earned my trust, which can be very hard to do.
The beginnings of relationships are always the best. You get butterflies in your stomach, you can't stop thinking about them, you bring them up in everyday conversations when you are with your friends. It's new and fun. But as time goes on you get to see who they really are. And in my case, you wouldn't want to know who I really was. I got mad at the people I loved most, and even though I try hard not to, sometimes I still do. If I knew the reason why, I would let you all know right now, but I don't. When enough bad things happen in a relationship it becomes hard to pick out the good times. He said he would never leave me and I took that for granted thinking that no matter what I did he would never leave, but a person can only take so much. I had pushed it too far and lost my best friend.
I never thought I would see the look on his face he gave me the evening things ended. It was cold and heartless like he had never loved me during those previous months. All of the bad moments and negativity came shooting out of his mouth, things he had been keeping to himself for a long time. At that moment I was completely wounded by the hurt he felt he needed to lay upon me. But after some time had passed, I knew I had made him feel the exact same way many times before.
It wasn't all bad. I know he brought out the best in me. He taught me not to take life so seriously, even though I did most of the time. The good moments we had together are all that I can hold on to in hope that we might get them back again someday; eight-hour Facebook chats, walking the beach at night, sneaking off from class so no one would see us kiss, stealing me away to get me alone, shocked when we found out some of the things we had in common, laughing when we repeatedly said the same things at the same time, smiley faces, saying "miss u" after teasing each other, listening to the noises my "imaginary" neighbors made, applauding ourselves for a dirty joke, making racist jokes with my friends, our little sayings rubbing off on each other, laughing during awkward times, car accidents and running stop signs, seeing Christmas lights and having glitter fights, making holes in the wall and horseback riding, "to-do" lists, making pancakes, laughing and whimpering while freezing on the parade route, bailing and sleeping in the car, the way he could look at me and make me feel like I was the only girl alive, taking him places he had never been and getting to see the look on his face when he did something for the first time, and watching him interact with his family in a way that was so foreign to the dynamic of how my family spends time together, but so refreshing to see how much they all really care about each other.
I tried looking through my journals and emails to see just where things went wrong, but the truth was things went wrong a long time ago. Only in my journals did I admit and own up to how merciless I acted at times. I found myself incredibly sorry and embarrassed for my foolish behavior, and surprised that he hadn't ended things sooner. Our fights were pointless and ninety-nine percent of the time my fault. I ruined days that were supposed to be special and lied about things I didn't want anyone knowing. In emails and text messages I read things like, "I'll never stop loving you," and "I don't wanna take some time off. I want to be with you." This just made things harder because I was sure he meant those words. But the damage had already been done, and I lost someone that I cared for very much. Initially, I made a long list of all the things I needed to fix and change about myself, but knew after a week or so of trying on my own that I would most likely be back to my old ways.
My sadness led to anger, my anger hurt the people around me, and when I hurt those people I felt completely shameful. I had them constantly worrying if I was going to do harmful things to myself, which no one should have to feel responsible for. I could easily tell them that it wouldn't happen again, which I had, but they stopped believing me. I stopped believing me. That was how I knew I needed help. And for the first time I was honest with my friends and my doctors about those constant thoughts of hate toward myself, and my life, and finally allowed myself to get help.
I would like to say that I got better right away, but it has been much harder than I thought. I do a lot of exercises and meditation that allow me to be in control of my thoughts and emotions. I finally let my doctor prescribe a medication that helps with the depression. There are still things I have to learn. It’s going to be a trial and error way of living, but that is the only way I will learn what works for me and what doesn't. After being stable with bone cancer for two years and feeling like I would be stuck like this forever, I finally feel like I am mentally on the path to recovery.
I never thought this was the way things would go. I know we both feel that way. On our first date he looked at me and asked, “Why me?” But with all the turmoil I put him through, that question was constantly on my mind. With the tainted friendships I lost before, I thought I would have learned from my mistakes. I thought I could change things by telling myself I would be different. Now I know better. I would like to say I was only doing this for myself, but it is much more than that. I still love him very much and would do anything to repair and erase the bad memories of the past few months. I am not sure if this will change things, but like he said, "Only time will tell."