I Died In Her Mind…

I have recently been losing the plot a bit… maybe a lot. I was dumped, although the term ‘confirmed unrequited’ may be a better description. I told in a past post how I had met a wonderful woman who had grabbed me like no other before; well, that wonderful woman let me go, and I have hit the floor and gone through it.

Despite my current low mood at watching my self esteem and heart gathering in a pile of broken bits, I still feel I can say that I have never had a relationship with another; not in the way it is commonly meant. I felt deeply, but it wasn’t felt deeply by her. I shouldn’t really say that though. I don’t know what she felt then, or feels for me now. All I know for sure is that we shared ourselves; and now we don’t. I died in her mind. I suspect quite a while ago.

I begin to wonder that I am really not cut out for emotional ties. I want to help and care for the women that I fall for. The first woman whom I loved used me as her ignorant pimp. We would accompany each other most places, but she expertly excluded me from her dark side. I would hang about local while she smoked crack and pleasured strangers. I was naive though, I didn’t know I was being used as an intimidation. I did look intimidating with my shaved head and without glasses. I thought I was just waiting for her while she talked to a friend. How many times did I wait? Countless. They were all punters and dealers. I was a fool. Why would a friend of a friend need to keep a distance? I found out how bad things really were for her when I had to face down a bar full of geezers in a pub. They were hostile and abusive towards her and under no illusions as to what she had been doing. I heard all the horrible stuff. I heard her life being torn to shreds in front of me. She later confirmed it as all being true after I managed to get us out of the pub. I then saw it all. I had been so blind and then I could see. She was in a real mess, and the only way I could see of getting her away from it all was to buy her a ticket to Cyprus where she could stay with her grandparents. I wanted her away from all her bad memories, her addiction, her temptation, and all the horrible bastards in pubs. I took her to the airport. We hugged long and hard and she got on the plane. I received one message.

Thanks Dave, I know that you are always there for me. Even though it seems I take the piss, I am not. I can’t explain how I feel about anything because I have made myself numb. I don’t have any emotion now. I ain’t happy. I will never be happy no matter where I am. I am just too chicken to fuck it all off. I can keep running, but I will never get away from me. You got it wrong when you said I wasn’t evil. I am evil to the bone. I have made myself this way and I can’t change it. I don’t know how to.

I never heard from her again. I did hear from a girlfriend of hers, whom I also got out of the pub that same night, that she had found work in a bar out there. Years later I also heard she had become a mother. I don’t know what is true and what is not. Regardless, I really hope she is happy and at peace with herself. Despite the drama, this parting was not so traumatic. We both wanted it… sort of. I don’t know exactly why I shared that story. I suppose I just wanted to highlight that I’m not a complete pup.

I am in a similar place now. I fell in love again. This time much faster and much harder. I will not go into it too much, but this woman is the first woman I have ever known who has made me want to be more than I am. Every time I think of her I love her more. I felt ambition and aspiration beyond what I could muster for myself all because of her. She is beautiful, empathetic, compassionate, funny, exuberant, intelligent, joyful and full of life. She made me happy and feel beautiful inside. She inspired me. She lit me up.

But she also fights with her esteem. It is persistently undermined and detrimentally exacerbated by illnesses, disorder, consumerism, comparative identity, indoctrination, and subjective expectation. She reached out to me after we had been conversing. I believe she saw my compassion and non-judgement towards her. It would be really unfair and out of order to document her story, but suffice it to say it would all only highlight what a strong woman she is that she is able to be who she is, and able to do what she does. I admire her.

I tried supporting her through the rough times. Actually, I will say that I did support her through some rough times. She credited and thanked me at the time, so I must credit and thank myself now. I was terribly frightened for her and it really did feel like life and death jeopardy. I was an outlet for her; and I loved to be able to do that for her. I am glad I was there. However, it soon became apparent to me that I was unable to supply all her needs. I tried to bury my head in the sand, but I knew deep down that I wasn’t fulfilling her.

I had declared my love. I had showered her with my feelings. I had embroidered her with my obsession and infatuation. I was madly and deeply in love with her. I desperately want to be with her. Consequently, I had backed her into a corner. I had become the subjective expectation, the unnecessary pressure, and she began hiding herself from me. I had felt myself entitled to her love. I wasn’t. She had told me she loved me, and I had become drunk on that thought. I wasn’t entitled. That is it basically. It did not end as abruptly as that summary might lead you to believe. I still want to care for her and be there for her. I know she still struggles, but I don’t think she wants or needs me anymore. In fact, I feel I am only deluding myself if I do not say that I have died in her.

I will never be too sure though. Our communication with each other has been passive, clandestine and shielded. We should have a lot to talk about, but I died. There’s no point talking to a ghost, especially when that ghost is only a reminder of bad times, false entitlement and a rusty cage. I am that ghost. There is no aeroplane like before. No physical loss to accompany the emotional wrench. She is still here. I wander around her avatars like a spectre waiting for her to think about me, to mention me, to remember me.

So it comes down to what is next. I will explore in this post a way for me to get on with my life. A wordy and ephemeral counselling session with myself. The beginnings of my recovery from love. It is important to note that we are definitely going to meet each other in future. It is inevitable. We have ties beyond our shared emotional experience. I will see her. I will be in the same room as her. What will I do?

I must know I will never be with her… I am having problems with this already. I know that if she wanted me tomorrow; I’m hers. I still hope. I see this as a major part of me not being able to move on. This is why I now tell myself I have died. No one comes back from the dead. I have always known that I can get over her if I want to, but I do not want to. I have told her numerous times that I will always be hers. I wasn’t lying. I meant it. How do I switch that off?

The answer is; I can not. I am only torturing myself by thinking about her. Wondering what she is doing, how she is feeling, who she is with, where she is, whether she thinks about me, whether she thinks about me thinking about her. That is omitting those questions regarding my own esteem. Does she think I’m ugly? Does she think I am a bad person? Does she hate me? Why doesn’t she want me? What’s wrong with me? It’s endless. I must stop! I feel like the walls are closing in.

I wish so bad we had a relationship. It seems crazy hearing myself wish. I never wished before I knew her. But, there may be obvious reasons why a relationship was always off the cards, but these are mostly ignorant, archaic and irrelevant hangovers of tradition and culture. She is bold in her convictions, the same as me, and I can not see those remnants as having the ability to stand in our way. Not if we both wanted it to happen. I did; I still do. She doesn’t. I respect her. It is her decision and all must be well. No matter how hard I wish and want; my love, my infatuation, and my obsession are now unrequited.

I still imagine sleeping next to her, playing with her hair, kissing her neck, holding her tight, making love, my hand in her hand, breathing her scent, brushing against her, feeling the warmth of her skin. I think about her before I sleep, in my dreams, and first thing after I awake. I think about everything we ever said to one another. I read the texts and messages we sent to one another. We had something once, and we could have had something more. Alas, there are no hidden meanings left to examine. There must be no hope for me. No unfulfilled dreams. Only dreams. There is only a glimmer. Only she can revive me. Though, to me, I died in her mind. I am finished. Never to be. Unrequited!

It is important I drum this home. I exhaust myself with questions that I have no possible way of answering, and imaginings that I have no way of achieving. They make me weak. They make me cry out for help. They make me behave strangely. They tire me. They frighten me. Those overly intricate thoughts and fantasies are sapping my capacity for logic and reason of available energy. Even the thought of my death in her is exhausting.

I try to keep myself on the level. I’ve been tempted to hit the bong, but I know that it is no solution. Just paper over the cracks. I won’t drink while I’m like this. I know from past experience that bad feeling and drinking are not good for me, or those around me. I’ve been trying to keep myself fit physically. Every week I’ve been running 15 miles cross-country, and walking 14 miles carrying 40lb in my weight vest, but this is no new regime; only a continuation from when I wanted to be fit for her. The exercise does seem to help, though there is a nadir that follows it. Playing my guitar and listening to music also seem to distract. The one thing that I used to do a lot a few years ago, which used to help me after my psychosis safari, is self-hypnosis. I just need to calm my mind enough before I sleep to calm my mind further. I think about her so much in the evenings. I will definitely try these though. I’ve also contemplated mindfulness meditation in the past and may look more into it. I think I am a positive person. I feel better when I am searching for solutions. I may not be able to find a solution to the dreams, but I can help myself. I must grieve though. It would be impractical to think I could lose so much without lament and mourning. I will be alright though.

What did I do before all this? I honestly can’t remember. I spent a lot of time thinking about thinking, and participating in activism and being a concerted presence against injustice and prejudice. I don’t think I’m bigging myself up too much. I was content being alone and being those things. I was a good man. I am a good man. I will always be a bit of a social retard, but that has never really bothered  me. I have only become so self judgemental because I don’t know why the one person in the world I wanted to like me doesn’t like me enough to want to be with me. I am a good man though. I am thoughtful and caring. I am a good man.

I do not really know what I am going to do with my life. I have never really had any personal ambition. I had ambition of a shared existence with her, but alas. I have ambition for society though. I care about society. I know I’ll make a difference there as long as I keep myself on the level. I can be an asset to progress. It might be negligible; still it will still be a difference. I have compassion and I have care. Without my negativity I will have more energy to be the better man I want to be. I may be alone and lonely, but I know I can cope with that. I was content with it before and I can be again. I also now know that I have a capacity for love that I did not know I had before. I am less naive. And I am not ashamed to love like a newbie. I really enjoyed it. I don’t want to be cynical, or deny how I feel. I am privileged. I am aware of my capacity for entitlement and entrapment, and can now try to circumvent them with knowledge of their existence within me. There is hope.

I am sorry if I have bored anyone who has read this. I hope you got to the end. I have been in severe need of a helping hand recently and doing this feels it has helped ease things. I am going to publish this straight away. It will be a draft so please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes. I intend to read my words often over the forthcoming days, so I’ll be editing pretty much constantly. Oh! Any suggestions you can offer please feel free to leave a comment here, or on my Twitter account.

 

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2 Responses to I Died In Her Mind…

  1. Pingback: Changing The Unchanged Lack of Happy | TheArtisanTheory

  2. Pingback: My Social Media’ing is Moving Nowhere Too Fast | TheArtisanTheory

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