Breaking Up With Yourself

I broke up with someone recently. He was a bit too reckless and he started to do things that undermined everything I have been working for. No, I’m not talking about a gay lover, I’m talking about myself.

Sometime early this summer, I fell into a trap and I had been treading water ever since. The problem started back in June when the girl I had been dating for a week cut things off, coupled with the fact that this project I had been working on the last few years almost was about to happen, but then eventually it stalled and has gone nowhere. (again) I just felt like things were never going to work out in my professional life, let alone my dating life. I was alone, broke, and all out of inspiration. I figured, what’s the point to all of this? Why doesn’t it seem to ever work out the way I want it to, especially when I sacrificed so much these last two years?

Now, I’m sure we’ve all had moments like this is life, but this time instead of getting a drink with a friend, bitching about life for a day or two and then getting back on the proverbial horse, I allowed that thought to consume me and take me down a dark spiral pretty much all summer. I started drinking more, I stopped working out as much, and I started making a string of bad decisions. You know, the ones you make at 10pm on a Tuesday and are still dealing with at 6am on a Thursday when you haven’t gotten to sleep yet? Those are the ones that really hurt.

I was torturing myself, and I fell back into old patterns of self inflicted pain and suffering. I didn’t care anymore. I would allow my laundry to pile up along with all the dishes in the sink. I would smoke cigarettes in the house because it was 95 degrees outside and just the thought of opening the door to the outside world was too much for me to comprehend. I would eat nothing for two days, then gorge myself on pizza and fast food because it was easier than eating healthy. I felt like shit, because that’s how I wanted to feel.

I had been looking for something to pull me out of this rut since late June. I figured, a good lead on a job, some unexpected money, or a trip away would help me to clarify what it is that I am doing here. I even contemplated leaving L.A. for good and I put into motion the plans to do that, although I needed to rely on someone else to help me, so I contacted two of my ex girlfriends who don’t live here.  Both told me they would help me out, but when it came down to “I’m about to book a flight to Wherever, USA”neither one of them gave me the confidence I needed to pull the trigger.

One of them text me last week and told me she was in town for one night and we should meet up. I said that would be a good idea and she said she would text me later. Then….I never heard from her. Did she make the whole story up? Was she even in Los Angeles at all? Did her plane crash and will I never see her again….Oh no, there she is on Instagram going to some fucking wedding back in Ohio. Guess she’s not dead. She wasn’t really known for telling the truth a lot when I dated her, but I mean, what kind of a game is that? And by the way….if it is some silly game you’re playing with my emotions, I’m too fucking old to play it anymore, so grow the fuck up or get out of my life. Say what you mean, and mean what you say. It’s that fucking simple.

My best friend has been trying to help me, and she has been going through a tough time herself. We used to live together, but she moved out back in December and I’ve been on my own since then. It scared me to be on my own because I know my past and I know what traps I fall into when I live by myself and I have too much time on my hands. So here we are.

Last night, something changed in me. I have been bunny-sitting my best friends’s rabbit and through their antics, he and my cat have really helped me this past week and have made me smile, even when I wanted to cry. I started drinking a bottle of wine around 6pm, and about an hour later I found myself texting my guy to see if he was around. I didn’t get a response….until 9pm.

Now, I could have easily called him, gone out, picked up my shit and I would not be here writing this blog entry at all. I’d probably be washing my face for a third time trying to get the blemishes off, and I’d probably be cursing myself for not getting to sleep again, and wasting away this holiday weekend jerking off or staring at the TV or computer screen until my eyes dried out.

I just thought to myself, I can’t put these animals through what we would have gone through if I had picked up the phone and text him back. I could have put myself through it, I know this because I’ve done it so many times this summer, but this time, I just felt like I had a responsibility to that rabbit and that cat to stay sober. I would feel absolutely awful if at 8am on Labor Day morning I was sitting on the floor of my living room full of doubt and regret, and they ran up to me wondering what the fuck I have been doing and why the fuck I haven’t played with them in two days. I just couldn’t do it to them, and in some way, I knew I couldn’t do it to myself either.

It’s Labor Day morning around 11am and I spent last night eating pizza and hanging with my attractive female neighbor and winning money from online poker. I haven’t smoked in my apartment in three days and it’s starting to smell like a Bed Bath & Beyond instead of the bathroom at some trashy gas station on the I-15 North. I’d say I had a good night, and perhaps I won this battle. But I know there will be more tests.

There’s going to be more opportunities for me to win, and even more for me to fail. The rabbit is sitting under the table looking out the window, the cat is meowing because she always has something to say, and I’m about to go to the gym after I made myself some steak and eggs for breakfast. I still don’t know what the next few weeks will bring, but at least I’ll be of sound mind and body to take all that it has to offer.

My ex girlfriends aren’t going to save me. I realize that. I had to save me from myself… and to do that, I needed to break up with this alternate reality version of me because he has spent far too much time freeloading, infiltrating, and sucking out my life this summer.   I can’t be with someone like that anymore.  He had no focus, was going off the deep end, and when it comes down to it, I know I’m better than that.    

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10 thoughts on “Breaking Up With Yourself

  1. Pingback: Liebster Award | Psychochromatic Inception

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