It seems to be a two post kind of night. I’ve been perusing WordPress. I enjoy blogging, but I also enjoy reading other peoples’ blogs. One thing I’ve realized is that there are a whole lot of broken hearted writers are on here. It seems to be a very common coping mechanism. I read these posts, and I do yearn to help these people feel better. To let them know that they aren’t alone. I feel the same way. I’m doing the same thing.
I realized that I haven’t written much about P. My musings have been mostly centered around D so far. P is hard to think about, let alone write about. We haven’t spoken in three months, but he’s still on my mind all the time. I’m so angry and very hurt. Sometimes I wonder if I’m ever going to heal, if I’ll ever stop hurting. I feel like that’s not going to happen until I fall in love again. They say it takes you half the amount of time you were with someone to get over them. Does that mean I have two years to wait? That feels much too long to me. But at the same time it hasn’t gotten much better in three months. I don’t cry anymore. I honestly don’t think I’m capable of shedding more than a few tears over anything anymore. My heart just aches. It literally hurts. I get a giant lump in my throat like I’m going to cry, but I don’t. I just lay in bed at night in this state.
My life has been frustrating. All I want is to be happy. I don’t need anyone else. I just want to be happy. I haven’t been truly happy since fifth grade. I grew up suffering from severe depression. The funny thing is as soon as I got a handle on the depression, I started dealing with the emotional pain of this break up. I do prefer to understand why I’m hurting so much. It was very disheartening to be in so much pain for no reason. I can’t say that I didn’t consider suicide at the same time. Luckily, that’s gotten better.
I know exactly where the pain in my heart is coming from right now. I think the largest part is the betrayal of trust. I trusted P more than any person in the entire world. He raped me. And many more horrible things that I may one day disclose in this blog. It took my mind two months to accept the fact that it was rape, and another month for me to tell someone. I’ve told three people: D, my roommate A and my mom. At this point, I doubt I’ll ever tell anyone else. Perhaps a future partner. It’s just not worth it. People don’t understand. I don’t even think my mom believed me. I guess I can’t expect people to empathize who have never been there. But I was expecting a little more sympathy then I got. In fact, my mom and A seemed awkward about it so I quickly stopped talking about it. D was much more understanding. He knows more about what P has done to me then anyone. He felt bad for me, but at the same time I could tell he was resisting saying, “I told you so.” It would have been completely valid. He always told me if I got back together with P it would get worse. I should have listened to him. But I guess some lessons you have to learn for yourself.