So. A lot of people don’t know what’s going on with me, what’s
going on with me and Gage, or anything about anything that has happened.
Because it’s not really their business, and we havn’t been ready to talk. Well
as far as me and Gage are concerned, we’re ready to talk, we’ve just been
waiting until things were better between me and my sister, so we could do all
the talking at once. Since I don’t see that happening, I don’t know, I think I’m
just going to say you know what, screw you, I’m getting this out there, and you
can find out like everyone else. The few people that do have some sort of
insight as to what’s been going on, they don’t know the reasoning, they don’t understand
why this has all happened. The only people that know that is me and Gage, and
his understanding probably isn’t all there. So this is my side of things, my
part of the story, the reason as to why I got to this point, what ultimately led
to EVERYTHING that has happened. Hold onto your whitie tighties boys and girls,
this is going to be a long one…
I have depression. If you’re reading this from my blog, you
already know that. But if you’re a friend or acquaintance reading this because
I made it available to you to read it, then you may not have known that. But I
have depression. I’ve had it for quite some time. While I was pregnant I had it
a little bit, it got worse when Alara was about 4 months old, and got really
bad when she was about 6 months old. She’s know almost 11 months. I’ve seen a
therapist once, and she told me I’m all kinds of screwed up J Thanks. No I’m not on
medication, I can’t afford it. I would gladly be on it though, because I hate
feeling this way. I’ve had my ups and my downs. I have my good days and my bad
days. My bad days consist of I don’t want to live, nothing in the world
matters, and the only thing between me and jumping off the Veterans bridge is
my kids. The ONLY thing. And on my REALLY bad days, even that’s hard to hold
onto. Bad days are like a black out, nothing matters, the house could be
burning down around me and nothing would matter. I just want to crawl into a
hole and hide. My mild days, I’m just in a fog, I’m aware of everything, I just
don’t really feel like doing anything, I just want to sleep it all away. And
then my good days, I’m me. I’m the same person I’ve always been. I’m fully
functional, I can laugh, I can have a good time. I never really have a GREAT
time, I don’t really get like overly excited or anything, that hasn’t happened
in quite a while, but I kind of just consider that as being me. Normal.
Depression is not an excuse for anything, like some people want to say, but it
does affect every part of my life. My day can go from being great to being
dreadful on the flip of a switch. It does alter my way of thinking at times. It
affects every aspect of every thing. But you don’t have to treat me
differently. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. You don’t have to
treat me like I’m broken. Because I’m aware of when people make that change, it’s
instant, you hear I have depression and it’s like I’m this fragile doll. Don’t
do that fucking shit I want to punch your face off. Don’t apologize either. You
didn’t make me this way. There’s nothing you can do to fix it. So what are you
apologizing for? Don’t apologize for shit that ain’t your fault, EVER.
Second. Me and Gage are broken up. This has been for about a
month now. That is ultimately what this post is about, what led to that.
You may want to take a pee break here…
The story begins about 4 years ago. As we all know me and
Gage have been together for 6 years. And people that know us personally, know
the beginning was VERY rocky. Breaking up all the time, fighting all the time,
typical teenage relationship really. Well about 4 years ago, maybe 5, I’m not
actually sure I try not to keep track, I moved, making us have to be in a long
distance relationship. And yes I do mean making us, I basically forced him into
that shit. Uuuggghhhh I hate reliving this. Shortly after I moved away, and I
do mean shortly, he started seeing someone else. I found out about this about 6
months after it started. So for about 6 months, Gage had a full on relationship
with someone else. He loved her even. His family loved her, hated me. His
friends loved her, hated me. His friends flat out lied to my face when I would
question them, because I had my suspicions. I don’t remember how I found out, I
think I saw in his phone that while I was with him he received a text from
someone and then went into the bathroom and called her. I also remember that
shortly after I found out and started putting the pieces together, I realized that
one of the times that I went to visit him and I asked him to stay longer, and
he couldn’t because he was grounded or some shit like that and wasn’t even
supposed to be with me, he actually had to go to her graduation. I was visiting
for my birthday. So that fucking sucked. Anyways, I found out about this whole
affair thing in May. I got pregnant with Taya around June. I found out I was
pregnant with Taya around August. I didn’t really get the chance to heal from
this happening, we were barely together when I found out I was pregnant with
Taya, then we had to deal with being 17 years old and being pregnant. There
wasn’t really time to deal with that happening. I forgave, but I never forgot.
We didn’t mention it really after that. It was obviously a sore subject. It
still is. It still greatly is. It affected me, for years, up until very very
very recently. It haunted me. I would think about it all the time. I would have
nightmares about it, dreams about it, day dreams about it, everything. I was
horrified while living in the city that we would run into her. It made it
unbearable to live there. We didn’t have sex for 6 months after I had Taya. And
even after that, it was still very rare that we would have sex. I always blamed
it on it hurting, which it did, but it hurt more than physically, it hurt
mentally. It was hard to get my head into it, to not think about what had
happened, even though at this point it was so long ago. I just couldn’t let go,
I couldn’t forget, I couldn’t move on. It truly did haunt me. It even got to a
point where I would think about it so much, I would get disgusted when he would
touch me. I would get turned off and repulsed and have to turn away. And we’re
talking very recent with these feelings, so years after it all happened, I
still could not just move on from it. You could only imagine that over the
years, this would eventually break a person down. I couldn’t help when I would
think about her or think about the situation, nothing triggered it, it kind of
just happened. And I never told him. I never told him it was bothering me. I
never told him I still thought about it. I never told anyone. I just tried to
push it away and force it down and try to bury it because I knew that bringing
that up would hurt. It would hurt both of us. And I didn’t want to deal with
that, I thought I could just make it go away. I thought with time I could make
myself forget. Force myself to forget. Then one day I realized I couldn’t. I
couldn’t force those thoughts away, they were there, she was still there, still
haunting me, still haunting our relationship. It made our sex life suck. I couldn’t
get my mind into it, so I couldn’t get my body into it, so it would just be so
uncomfortable. So we would just rarely have sex. That breaks down a
relationship. And he was so supportive about that, because he knew it
physically was uncomfortable and hurt, and he was so supportive and great about
that, but I know it was hard on him, he is afterall a guy. It didn’t matter
what I did, I couldn’t move on from his affair. Eventually, after not really
having sex, and then never really going on dates, it all kind of fell apart. I
fell out of love. The sparks were gone. The passion was gone. The chemistry was
gone. The excitement was gone. It was basically like we were just roommates who
happened to be best friends who happened to have 2 kids together. But there was
no romance. I’m pretty sure there was a damn near year period where I didn’t
say I love you to him. Because we would talk about very small things, and he
knew I was falling out of love, he knew that it wasn’t there. He didn’t know
why. He just knew it wasn’t there. And he knew I felt uncomfortable saying I
love you if I didn’t mean it. That was hard. And it hurt. For both of us, not
just for him like you would think. It was hard for me to not love him. To not
be in love with him. Specially when everywhere I looked, every time someone met
him, they would tell me how great he is and how lucky I was. I knew that. I
still know that. I know he’s one of a kind. But that isn’t enough to be IN love
with someone. Having kids isn’t enough to be IN love with someone. None of it
was enough to make all the bad things go away. It wasn’t enough to make me
forget. But through it all, I was still looking at wedding stuff. I was still
trying on dresses and deciding on things. Eventually one day, it donned on me…
I was planning a wedding, for someone I wasn’t in love with. I was planning a
wedding with someone who had no idea how I was feeling or what I was thinking.
I was planning a wedding with someone who had no idea his past actions still
hurt every day. I was planning a wedding, and I felt trapped. I felt like this
was it for me, this was the rest of my life. I was going to be in this loveless
marriage for the rest of my life. I was 22 years old, and felt like I was 40,
and that was going to be the rest of my life. My life was over. I looked at the
future, and I saw nothing exciting. I saw the same routine, every single day,
nothing ever changing. And I couldn’t take that. It broke me down. I didn’t
want my life to be like that forever. I didn’t want my life to be over. I didn’t
want to know that it was going nowhere and that I had to stay on this monotonous
road. It freaked me out. It scared the living shit out of me. And so then all
these other thoughts and emotions started rushing in: I didn’t have a
childhood. My childhood consisted of modeling and acting and dance, and while
now I’m grateful for that, I fucking hated it too. I didn’t get to just be a
kid. I didn’t have friends. I didn’t do normal kid activities. I didn’t have
preteen years. My mom had my youngest brother when I was 12. And from that day
forward, I was the second parent. I helped raise him. At 12 years old, I was
the parent in the house. My mom god bless her was a single mom to 4 kids. That’s
heavy duty. But she wasn’t there very often. She worked 3rd shift
and slept all day. My sister was too selfish to step up, so I felt like I had
no choice, I had to take on the responsibility, I had to cook, I had to clean,
I had to change diapers, I had to take care of everyone else. I gave up
everything to make sure that everyone else was taken care of. I didn’t have
teenage years. I was still taking care of my little brother, helping to raise
him. And then I had some drama with my sister, so that affected everything
whether she likes to realize that or not. It took a toll on all of us. Not only
was I this young kid in highschool trying to find my way, I was also still
making sure my family was taken care of, and I was always having to watch my
back, and make sure nobody was fucking with my family. I RARELY went out in
highschool. I had few friends. I didn’t get to experience much of those
highschool years. All the while, while going through all of this, I was putting
EVERYONE before me. My family came first. Their needs came first. I made sure
everyone else was taken care of. And it took me years to realize, while I was
making sure everyone else was taken care of, nobody was taking care of me.
Nobody was making sure I was fine. And while back then I thought I was fine, I
can look back now and realize I wasn’t fine. That was a huge burden. And my
moms addressed it, she’s expressed her gratitude and that she doesn’t know
where we’d all be if I wasn’t there to help out, and it’s kind of like, I don’t
know. All I can say is whatever. And I know that’s lame, but for me it is
whatever. I felt like I had no choice. Someone had to step up. I wasn’t going
to leave my family screwed. I wasn’t going to let it fall apart. I had to make
sure everyone was taken care of, even if that meant putting myself last. And
back then, I didn’t care. I figured as long as everyone else was fine, I would
be fine. I didn’t realize the toll it would eventually take on me. But then my
young adult life, I had my own kids. So sitting in my closet one night, crying
for no apparent reason, I realized all of this. That I hadn’t had the chance to
live my own life. I had my whole life taken away from me. I spent my whole life
taking care of everyone else. And the whole rest of my life I was going to
spend taking care of everyone else. I never had a life. I never had a chance to
live. I never had a chance to fuck up. I never had a chance to learn from my
mistakes, because I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. I never had a chance to do
anything that a normal kid should be allowed to do. Like I said, I felt like my
life was over, I was going nowhere else. All of this, all of this collectively,
I snapped. It became too much. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t deal with
knowing that this was it for me. Anytime I even remotely expressed this to
someone, that I just wanted live and make mistakes and fucking experience life,
I was told too bad. I wasn’t allowed. Do you have any idea how aggravating that
is?! For people over and over and over again to tell me I’m not allowed to live
my own life and make my own mistakes and freaking grow? I felt so lost. I didn’t
know who the hell I was anymore. I still don’t know who I am. I don’t know me.
I’ve spent so long taking care of everyone else, that along the way I was
trampled on and crushed and broken down into this nothingness, this empty
shell, this robot that took care of things. I wasn’t my own person. I didn’t
know what I wanted out of life, all these plans that I had made I was
questioning. I was questioning every direction that I was going. And all of
this just weighed so heavily on me. It was so much. I felt smothered and
suffocated and I would start thinking about all of this and start thinking
about the future and I would literally just get to the point where I felt like
I was drowning, I felt so overwhelmed, I felt like I couldn’t breathe, I just
felt over and empty and dead. That’s terrifying. That’s the point where I
snapped and I decided to say fuck this shit, I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t
take this feeling of being over and of having nothing and being nothing. I couldn’t
take knowing that this was it. It was too much it was too heavy. I had to
figure things out. I had to figure my life out. I had to figure out who I was.
I tried to explain this to Gage. That I didn’t know who I
was anymore, that I felt like my life was over, that I felt so consumed by
things. He didn’t understand, and I cant really blame him, but I also don’t
know how hard he tried to understand. I asked him for a break, for time to
figure out who I was and what I wanted out of life. Because not only did I not
really get to live, I also had never really had other relationships. He was my
only serious relationship that I had ever had. I didn’t know what else was out
there. I didn’t know any of that. How can I know that I want to spend the rest
of my life with this person that I’m not even in love with if I don’t even know
what the hell else is out there? I just felt like none of it was enough. I
needed more. I needed answers. I needed time. I needed experiences. I needed a
break. I needed time to figure out what I wanted out of life and figure out who
I was. He couldn’t give that to me. He said I had to commit 100% to him, or
nothing at all. I couldn’t do that. I know he doesn’t understand it, but to me,
I cant commit 100% to you if I’m not in love with you and I don’t know if I
want to be with you. That’s not 100%. It just wasn’t fare to him. I can’t give
you my all, if I don’t know what my all is and I don’t know what I want out of
life. I can’t figure that out if I’m attached to you either. It just wasn’t
right. It’s not what I needed. So we broke up.
I’m trying to figure out who I am. What I want. Where I’m
going. I don’t know when that’ll be. I don’t know when I’ll be better. I don’t
know when I’ll know what I want. I know I can’t do it alone. I know I can’t do
it until I’m on medicine and in a better mindset. And I don’t think I can do it
still living with Gage. But the thought of not living with him, I don’t know. I
feel like it’d be too much, it’d be too overwhelming. It gets very hard living
with eachother, but at the same time, it’s the only comfort and security I
have, and at times I feel like the only thing keeping my grounded. I still love
Gage. I always will. But I’m not in love. And its not fair to be with someone
your not in love with. He deserves better. It hurts to see him talking to
someone else. It hurts to know when he’s out with her. And that usually drives
me in the other direction. But I do still love him. And I do hope that one day
I can get all of this figured out and I can get better and we can fix this. But
in the meantime, we’re working on building a friendship. We realize that we can’t
just simply pick up where things left off just because we miss eachother. That
can never go back. Right now, it’s making sure we’re there for our kids, and
that I get the help that I need, and that we can learn to function
independently, and build a foundation to grow. Build a friendship that works.
And then if that happens to lead into more, it will come with time. All of this
has to come with time. But first, I need to figure my life out. I need to have
my life. And that is going to include a long bumpy road of making mistakes to
figure out what I want. This breakup could very well be a mistake, but it’s
what has to be done in order to figure out the rest of my life. I need to grow
some. I’ve already grown some, I’ve crashed and burned, and I think it was good
for me. I went through it alone, but that’s probably a good thing.
It’s going to be a long long long road from here. Full of
who the hell knows what. I need to build myself, and that’s going to involve
some messy times. But I’m doing that with few people in my life, I know who
matters. I know my choice in friends is questionable to those around me, but if
those people that are questioning my actions, stopped and looked and saw the
bigger picture, they would see that I’m doing everything I’m doing on my own
account. Because I want to. Because I need to. Because I need to learn from it.
I’m not putting myself in danger. I’m not putting my kids in danger. I’m not
doing anything to hurt anyone. My friends and the people that I hang out with, truly
aren’t influencing me. I choose to do every “questionable” thing that I’ve
done, not them. But also stop and realize, that those people know what’s going
on in my life. They know about my depression. They know about the breakup. They
know about a lot. And they’ve stood by my side and just want me to be happy.
Can you say the same for everybody else? I can’t.
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