I don’t know what to say.
A lot of things are clear to me now. One is that I started this blog so that I would remind myself of how intelligent, witty, and good I am. Because I started to realize that I need to love myself.
I don’t know what to say, but nearly a month has gone by and I haven’t recorded any update of my life here.
I started antidepressants. They’ve really helped. I’m not afraid to go out in public anymore. I am to a degree, but it’s manageable. I panic much less frequently, and when it does happen, the medicine fights it. Or my faith in the medicine fights it. I don’t know, or care.
I broke up with my boyfriend. It was never right. I knew it from the very beginning. We had sex the night we met, and from that moment on I was lying to him. Lying to him because I’d given him a very real part of myself without everything that comes before it. And we never built a relationship. What we had was based on sex, and silence. I don’t think I can say I never cared about him, but I always knew it was wrong. No amount of sugar coating made that any better. I had moments where I felt things were going well, but they were brief and infrequent. I just always knew it wasn’t right. He doesn’t challenge me. He doesn’t improve me. We’re not meant to be. I finally accepted this, and did what was best for myself. From his perspective, I’m a monster, and he can rightly feel that way, but I have to put myself first. I have to love myself with every fiber of who I am, and sacrifice nothing to be with someone. I’ll find the right guy.
And that’s it. That’s life. It continues. After two years of numbness and denial, it finally continues.